Spring Festival: a new beginning.

The Beautiful Far Away

- The album’s downloaded, the video’s uploading, kystyby will make your mouth and nose dirty. Strength and faith, love and gerbera, talk to girls, do not stay a virgin. - Arundor sang as he finished yet another computer game.
Hearing someone unlocking the apartment door, Arundor was not alarmed at all: “One of the relatives came home,” the gamer thought, and turned up the sound in his headphones. A kick to the head came as a huge surprise to our hero. The headphone cord was yanked out, the chair flipped over, and Arundor himself ended up on the floor. Raising his head, he barely had time to see two shaved-headed thugs before one of their boots struck him in the stomach, while the other shaved-head sat down in the chair.
- Aaaaaaaaah, - Arundor screamed, - guys, do not beat me, piss on me instead!!!
Soon something warm poured onto Arundor, but unfortunately for us it turned out to be tea from his cup, which had gone cold while the kystyby guy was gaming.
- Listen, Murad, do you guess who we are? - asked the shaved-head sitting in the chair.
- You are nationalists and want to beat me up because I am not Gussian?
- NOT RUSSIAN, BITCH! - shouted the standing thug, and his boot struck Arundor’s stomach again.
- Ahahaha, - the seated one laughed, - no, of course not, we are cosmopolitans actually, this is just a style. Any other guesses?
- You want to rob me? - Arundor muttered, coughing and breathing hard.
- Ahahaha, what is there to rob here? All right, I will not torment you. Basically, we were hired by the people who finance you...
A shiver ran through Arundor’s body. He had not expected such a turn of events at all. His pulse quickened even more, his heart was pounding out of his chest, his palms grew damp, and his little hands began to shake.
- W-w-why, w-w-what for? - Arundor muttered in a trembling voice.
- Calm down and listen carefully. Our employers are tired of you living off them for so long. They are not going to tolerate it anymore, so they sent us to explain a few things to you.
- W-w-what things?
- It is very simple. You have to get a job and support yourself.
- In the name of Huwe! Not that! I cannot...
- Shut up and listen! If you do not get a job within a month, we will sit you on a bottle, throw you out of the apartment, and you will end up on the street. And there will be no your computer, no comfortable chair, no tea. And there will be no kystyby there either.
- But...
- You have one month. By the way, how old are you? Just curious.
- Forty-five, - Arundor answered sadly.
- Ahahaha, [Moderated: OBSCENE LANGUAGE in the message] you loser! Living on someone else’s neck at forty-five. All right, we are off, au revoir.
The kystyby guy spent a long time coming to his senses. And as soon as he did and realized how serious the situation was, he lay down on the floor, curled up, and started crying.
- Be harder, believe. Be harder, believe, - he muttered under his breath through tears and snot. After crying like that for some time, Arundor pulled himself together and decided to act at once. After all, he did not want to end up on the street.

***

Arundor sighed heavily. He was not used to asking friends for help. But now he simply had no other choice. He still had not found work, the internet and phone had been cut off for debts, and the deadline was only three days away. The kystyby guy gathered his thoughts and rang the bell. No one opened. But the noise coming from behind the door clearly showed someone was home. Arundor rang several more times, and finally they opened.
- Who are you? - asked the man who opened the door.
- I need Laken.
- Who who? - the man asked again, breathing fumes into Arundor’s face.
- Laken, - Arandor repeated loudly.
- Aaaaaah, Laken, he croaked from an overdose three years ago. May the Kingdom of Heaven be his, - the man replied, crossing himself incorrectly.
Without saying anything, Arundor turned around and headed to the next person on his list.

***

This time the door opened quickly. Saver greeted Arundor happily. In the kitchen, the host listened to his guest’s story, sympathized with him, and treated him to doughnuts and tea.
- Yeah, a real two-chairs situation, or rather two bottles, - Saver said.
- I am in no mood for jokes right now! Better tell me whether I can live with you for a while.
- Oh, probably not, buddy. You see, I am married now...
- Married?! - Arundor was surprised.
- Well yes, what is so strange about that?
- Well, sort of...
- Come on, I will introduce you to her, - Saver said and led Arundor into the big room.
- Arundor, meet Saber.
- Hello, Arundor, - replied the life-size computerized robot doll.
- Um... hello...
- Isn’t she beautiful? - Saver asked.
- Yes, yes, of course...
- Forgive me, but unfortunately I cannot help you, - Saver said as he showed his guest out.
- Well, uh, can you at least lend me some money?
- Of course I will, no problem. Just return it in a month. My girl will have a birthday then, - Sav whispered, taking out the money, - I want to give her a new dress.
- I will definitely return it.
After saying goodbye to Saver, Arundor headed to the next person.

***

- Arundor, what are you doing here? - Plisen asked quietly, peeking out through the half-open door.
- Hi, Plis! Please let me in, I need to talk to you.
- This is not the best time...
- Who dragged themselves here? - came a rough female voice.
- Darling, it is for me, - Plisen answered timidly.
- Some woman?
- No, of course not...
Pushing Plisen aside, the woman opened the door all the way and looked askance at the visitor. She was a head taller than Arundor, and her hands were bigger too. She looked like some kind of athlete.
- What is this creep? Looks like a bum.
- Darling, this is my...
- Stop mumbling, answer properly! - the woman said, hitting Plis in the shoulder.
- My friend, Arundor.
- Never heard of him.
- We talk on the forum.
Plis fell silent, realizing that this slip would cost him.
- Talked! Talked! I have not gone there since you forbade me! I swear!
- You filthy scum, so you secretly sit on that disgusting forum behind my back!
- I do not want to interfere, - Arundor began, but he was interrupted.
- What are you yapping about there?
- I only... - Arundor did not have time to finish before a one-two hit landed and he ended up on the floor. Blood flowed from his nose, and his head spun badly. He heard Plisen begging her not to do something to him, and then the door slammed shut. After sitting for a bit, Arundor got up and headed to the next person.

***

- What else do you want from me?! I already told you everything! For God’s sake, leave! - a trembling woman’s voice came from behind the door.
- I am Mant’s old friend, please open.
The door opened a crack and Arundor saw a frightened woman.
- You are not from the FSBR?
- No, of course not, I am just Mant’s old friend.
The woman hesitated for a few seconds, but still let Arundor in. It turned out that Mant had been sent to Subiria a year ago because of his articles, in which he had dared to criticize President Kedyrov. Once a prominent scholar, he now swung a pick and shovel somewhere in Subiria.
- I told him not to write anything, so what if we work for sweet bread and beef anuses, what is so bad about that, but he... - without finishing, the woman began to cry.
Arundor felt awkward, apologized for disturbing her, and hurried away.

***

No one opened the door for a very long time. Apparently the loud music playing in the apartment prevented the owner from hearing the bell. But luck smiled on the kystyby guy and the door opened. Arundor barely recognized Revon, shaggy and unshaven. He had a joint in his teeth and a bag of garbage in his hands.
- Here, bum, - Revon said, shoving the garbage bag at Arundor, - maybe you will find something useful in there for yourself.
- Revon, it is me, Arundor!
The apartment owner looked carefully at Arundor.
- Ahaha, exactly, it is you, come in!
Entering the apartment, Arundor saw a large number of people. Some were just lying on the floor, some were enjoying a high, and some were drinking and smoking weed. Revon led Arundor into a small room. On the writing desk was a pile of junk and a line of white cocoa, and on the couch lay a pair of stoned Asian girls.
- As you can see, Arundor, I am a bit busy here, so make it quick, say what you need, - Revon said, then sat at the table and snorted the white line through a 500-thousand-ruble banknote.
- I wanted... um... lend me some money, please.
- Sorry, Arun, but I am broke myself right now. Barely making ends meet. You understand.
- Yes, I understand. All right, then I will go.
- Hey, do you not want to stay? We will have some fun, - Revon said, nodding toward the bed.
- No, thanks, I need to go.
- As you wish.
- Bye.
- Bye.

***

This time the door opened rather quickly.
- Who do you need? - asked the bearded man.
- Nyabo, it is me, Arundor.
The bearded man doubted it and stared closely at the visitor.
- Arundor, you say. Put on your hood.
Arandor put on the hood.
- Ahaha, exactly, it is you. You do look like a bum, though. Even more than I do.
- Stop messing around. I have a serious talk for you.
- Well, come in if it is serious.
Nyabo’s apartment was rather empty. There was almost no furniture or household appliances, and the walls were covered with some writings in a language unknown to Arundor. In Nyabo’s bedroom there was no bed, no wardrobe, no television, only a small table, a couple of chairs, a pull-up bar, and a calendar where today’s date was circled in red.
- Good timing. I was just about to drink tea, - Nyabo said, pulling some rope from under the table. - Be a friend, go to the kitchen and brew some for me and yourself. If there is none in the kitchen, look on the balcony. The main supplies are there.
Arundor did not find any tea in the kitchen. He put the kettle on and went to the balcony. Among a small amount of junk he easily found a bag of tea and returned to the kitchen.
- Nyabo, your fridge is empty. Maybe I should go to the store and buy something to ea...
Entering Nyabo’s room, Arandor froze. Nyabo was hanging from the pull-up bar in a noose. His body was still twitching, but after a few seconds it went still. And the room filled with an unpleasant smell.
- F-f-fuck!
Arandor bustled about and began frantically wiping everything he had touched. After that incident with the schoolgirl, the cops had his fingerprints. When he finished, he hurried out of the apartment.

***

When the apartment door opened, a sharp smell hit Arundor’s nose. It stank of cats.
- Arundor! - Kisha exclaimed, delighted by the arrival of an old friend.
There were a huge number of cats in the apartment. All the walls were covered with posters of Lik. The disheveled hostess offered Arundor tea with gingerbread cookies. The kystyby guy did not refuse. That number of cats affected the taste of the tea and cookies. Apparently there was not a single thing in this apartment that did not smell of cats. Kisha silently listened to Arundor’s story and sympathized with him.
- It is all sad, - she said, - but you know what? I think you deserved all of this. You were always a vile person.
Arundor was surprised by this turn, since he had not said a single bad word to Kisha.
- W-what is wrong with you?
- Yes, a vile bastard! I always hated you! Get out! - Kisha shouted, grabbed a broom, and began beating Arundor with it. Under the blows of the broom, the kystyby guy left the cat lady’s apartment.

***

A fat man sat in an armchair smeared with who knows what. With his left hand he ate chips, and with his right he held the mouse, searching gagle for his favorite hentuy videos.
- Oh yes! - he muttered. - Those are the babes. I will take care of you now.
But before Zheroist could put his hand into his pants, the doorbell rang.
- [Moderated: OBSCENE LANGUAGE in the message]! What the [Moderated: OBSCENE LANGUAGE in the message]! Who is that now?
Looking through the peephole, Zheroist barely recognized Arundor. Opening the door, he greeted his old friend and invited him into the kitchen.
- You came at a bad time, - Zheroist said.
- Sorry to distract you, but I have problems.
Arundor told Zheroist what had happened to him, hoping that he could shelter him for a while.
- [Moderated: OBSCENE LANGUAGE in the message] all of that, Arun. I would gladly let you in, but the apartment is not mine. If the owner finds out I brought someone, he will send Chachens after me. And you know yourself it is better not to mess with them. The only way I can help is to give you some money.
Taking the money, our hero went on.

***

Behind the door one could hear swearing and a child crying. But that did not stop Arundor, and he rang. The door was opened by a woman holding a child in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.
- Are you from child protective services? - Naira asked, frowning.
- Naira, it is me, Arundor.
Naira looked closely and did recognize the kystyby guy.
- Yes, it really is you! You look awful. Like you came from a dump. Well, come in, do not stand there.
- Who came? - a drunken voice came from the room.
- Dear, this is my old friend, Arundor.
- What? Your ex-lover? I will get the shotgun!
- What are you saying!
Sitting in the kitchen, amid the screams of five children and the cursing of Naira’s husband, Arandor told the story of his difficult fate.
- How awful. You have had no luck. Just do not go looking for trouble, or they might kill you.
- Mommy, mommy, I pooped! - shouted the little kid who ran into the kitchen, waving hands smeared with something brown.
- Son, we do not do that in front of guests! Sorry, Arundor, I will be a minute.
While Naira was washing her child, her husband entered the kitchen with a shotgun at the ready. He sat opposite Arundor and pointed the barrel at him.
- What, anus clenched? - Naira’s husband began.
- I-I-I should p-p-probably go.
- Sit down, bastard! Answer me, was there something between you two?
- I do not understand...
- You understand everything. Talk, bitch!
- What are you doing?! - the returning Naira said indignantly.
- Stay out of it, woman!
- Arundor, leave, I will deal with him myself.
- Yes, get lost, bum! And I had better not see you here again!

***

This was the last address. Taking a deep breath, Arundor rang. The door was opened by a woman in a black headscarf.
- Hello, I need Alyaks. I am his old friend.
Arundor sat in the kitchen and looked at Alyaks. More precisely, at his photograph with a black ribbon. Beside the photograph stood a glass of vodka and a saucer with a pickle. The mustached soldier in lieutenant’s shoulder boards looked sadly into Arundor’s eyes.
- He has been gone for half a year now, may the Kingdom of Heaven be his, - Alyaks’s widow said, crossing herself. - During exercises in Ristov he shot himself in the head three times with an assault rifle. Such grief. I had to sell the apartment to pay the priest for the funeral service. You know, they do not just give funeral services to suicides. Ah, he was a good man, even though he beat me often. But our priest always said: if he beats you, it means he loves you. I miss his heavy hand...
- So this apartment is no longer yours?
- No, it is not mine. Soon I am going back to my mother.
- I sympathize with your grief, forgive me for disturbing you.
After apologizing, Arundor said goodbye and left with a heavy heart.

Three months later. An elite district of the city.

Some bum was rummaging through the trash bins, hoping to find something edible or at least bottles. An expensive SUV drove up to the dumpster. A respectable man got out. He opened the trunk, took out a bag of garbage, and walked up to the container to throw it away.
- Sir, in the name of our Lord God, give God’s servant something for food, I beg you, - the bum addressed the man.
The man was about to spit at the vagrant, but something stopped him. He took a thick wallet from his coat pocket, pulled out three dollars, crumpled them, and threw them to the bum. The vagrant could live a whole month on that sum.
- May the Lord bless you, sir, happiness and health to you and your whole family.
- Listen, how do I know you? - the rich man suddenly spoke.
- No, sir, we do not know each other.
- No, you remind me of someone, - the man looked closer. - Exactly! Murad, is that you?
- I-I-I am not...
- Remember me? You and I were in the same group in college.
- Y-y-yes, I remember...
- So what, are you, like, a downshifter now?
- Yeah...
- And I work at the “CJSC” ROC. I recently bought myself a new car. Premium class, - the rich man said, nodding toward his SUV.
- Sweetie, how much longer are you? - came a female voice.
A woman whom Arundor also knew looked out of the car window.
- I met Murad here. Remember him? We studied together.
The woman looked closely at Arundor.
- Yes, I remember, hi Murad!
- H-h-hi, - Arundor answered quietly, waving his hand.
- You really liked her once, didn’t you? - the rich man asked.
- W-w-well, not that much, - the kystyby guy faltered.
- Come on, I know! Ah, life is an interesting thing. Well, I have to go, good luck, Murad, bye.
- Bye...
The car started moving and drove away, and Arundor kept looking and looking after it until it disappeared behind the house. Evening was falling.