Little Lulu In the late summer of 1883, the small town of Cedartown, Tennessee, big number visitors attracted by the desire to see with their own eyes incredible feats attributed to 14-year-old Lulu Hurst, the timid, fragile daughter of a local

Small round basket You will need: thick wrapping paper Brown, cardboard, measuring tape, ruler, pencil, instant glue, scissors. Progress of work If necessary, smooth the paper and cut into strips of 30 X 3 cm.

28. I will not work for you because the salary is low Intention: this is not your only criterion when looking for a job… What else? Redefinition: yes, the salary is slightly below the market. And ... Separation: let me talk about work, prospects, then accept

Little sad story

Early 80s Three inseparable friends live in Leningrad: Sasha Kunitsyn, Roman Krylov and Ashot Nikoghosyan. All three - up to thirty. All three - "litsedei." Sashka is a "ballerina" at the Kirov Theatre, Roman is an actor at Lenfilm, Ashot sings, plays, deftly imitates Marcel Marceau.

They are different and at the same time very similar. Sasha from childhood conquered the girls with his "smoothness, grace, ability to be charming." Enemies consider him arrogant, but at the same time he is ready to "give away his last shirt." Ashot is not distinguished by beauty, but innate artistry and plasticity make him beautiful. He speaks beautifully, he is the ancestor of all plans. The novel is caustic and sharp on the tongue. On screen, he is funny, often tragic. There is something Chaplin in it.

In their free time, they are always together. They are brought together by "a certain search for one's own path." They vilify the Soviet system no more than others, but "the damned question of how to resist dogmas, stupidity, one-linearity pressing on you from all sides" requires some kind of answer. In addition, it is necessary to succeed - not one of the friends suffers from the lack of ambition. This is how they live. From morning to evening - rehearsals, performances, shooting, and then they meet and relieve the soul, arguing about art, talent, literature, painting and much more.

Sasha and Ashot live with their mothers, Roman is alone. Friends always help each other, including with money. They are called "Three Musketeers". There are also women in their lives, but they are kept somewhat aloof. Ashot has a love - a Frenchwoman Henriette, who is "training at Leningrad University." Ashot is going to marry her.

Sashka and Ashot rush about with the idea of ​​putting on Gogol's "Overcoat", in which Sashka is to play Akaky Akakievich. In the midst of this work, foreign tours "fall" on Sasha. He flies to Canada. There, Sasha has great success and decides to ask for asylum. Roman and Ashot are completely at a loss, they can’t come to terms with the idea that their friend hasn’t said a word about his plans. Ashot often visits Sasha's mother - Vera Pavlovna. She is still waiting for a letter from her son, but Sashka does not write and only once gives her a parcel with a bright knitted jacket, some little things and a big - "miracle of printing" - album - "Alexandre Kunitsyn". Soon Ashot marries Henriette. After some time, they and Ashot's mother, Ranush Akopovna, are given permission to leave: it is very difficult for Henriette to live in Russia, despite her love for everything Russian. Despite the fact that Roman is left alone, he approves of Ashot's act. Roman's last picture is on the shelf, and he believes that it is impossible to live in this country. Ashot madly does not want to part with his beloved city.

In Paris, Ashot gets a job as a sound engineer for television. Soon Sasha performs in Paris. Ashot comes to the concert. Sasha is magnificent, the audience gives him a standing ovation. Ashot manages to get backstage. Sasha is very happy with him, but there are a lot of people around, and

friends agree that Ashot will call Sasha at the hotel the next morning. But Ashot cannot get through: the phone is not answered. Sasha himself does not call. When Ashot arrives at the hotel after work, the porter informs him that Monsieur Kunitsyn has left. Ashot cannot understand Sasha.

Gradually, Ashot gets used to French life. He lives rather closed - work, home, books, TV. He eagerly reads Akhmatova, Tsvetaeva, Bulgakov, Platonov, who can easily be bought in a store, watches the classics of Western cinema. Although Ashot becomes, as it were, a Frenchman, "all their elections and discussions in parliament" do not touch him. One fine day, Romka Krylov appears on Ashot's doorstep. He managed to come to the Cannes Film Festival as a consultant for his own money, and he did this because he really wanted to see Ashot. For three days, friends walk around Paris, remembering the past. Roman says that he managed to trick the Soviet Minister of Culture and "smuggle", in essence, an "anti-Soviet" film. Roman leaves.

Soon Sasha appears, flying to Ceylon, but the flight is delayed in Paris. Before Ashot is the same Sashka, who is "executed" because of what he did. Ashot understands that he cannot be angry with him. But there is so much rationality in what Sasha is now talking about art. Ashot recalls the "Overcoat", Sashka claims that the rich American "balletomaniacs" do not need the "Overcoat". Ashot is offended that Sasha never asks about his "material well-being".

More friends do not meet. Roman's film, not without success, passes through the country. Roman envies Ashot because there is no "Soviet mura" in his life. Ashotik envies Roman because in his life there is "struggle, sharpness, victories." Henriette is expecting a baby. Sasha lives in New York in a six-room apartment, tours, he constantly has to make important decisions.

From the publisher. While the text of the story was being typed in the printing house, Ashot received a telegram from Sashka with a request to immediately fly to him. "Costs are being paid," the telegram said.

- No, guys, Canada, of course, is not so hot, but still ...

Ashot did not finish the sentence, he simply made a sign with his hand, which meant that Canada was, after all, a capitalist country in which, in addition to super-profits and the unemployed, there are 24-hour grocery stores, free love, democratic elections, and, whatever you say, the Klondike - you can’t forget it - the St. Lawrence River and the trappers might still be preserved.

They understood him, but did not agree. Preference was given to Europe and, of course, Paris.

- Well, what are you doing with your Paris! Give them Paris. Paris is the end. And Canada is a warm-up. Test of strength. Test of strength. This is how Canada should be started.

It was already three in the morning, things were not packed, and the plane was at eight in the morning, that is, at six you should already be at the theater. And not very drunk.

- Set aside, Sasha, dry tea is nonsense, try my Tibetan or Buryat-Mongolian weed, the devil knows, beats clean.

Sasha sucked grass.

- Well, breathe.

- Fairy tale. Pure lily of the valley…

We talked about Tibet. The novel was once on tour in those parts, from where he brought her, weed, and the famous mummy. I got it from former lamas.

Drinking began immediately after the performance, it ended early, before eleven. Ashot stocked up on vodka and beer in advance, his mother made vinaigrette, and they got some export sardines from somewhere. They drank at Roman's - he divorced his wife, lived as a bachelor.

Ashot was drunker than the rest, and therefore more talkative. However, no one was drunk, just in high spirits - Sasha was included in a foreign trip for the first time.

“Enough about Tibet, God bless her, with the roof of the world,” Ashot interrupted Roman, who was prone to exotic details, and spilled the rest of the vodka. - Staff! Then suck again. So, most importantly, do not start. Don't get carried away with wine and women. Not because spies...

“Oh, Arkady, don’t speak beautifully. We all know ourselves,” Sasha raised his glass. - Went. For friendship! Peoples and developing countries!

- Bhai-bhai!

We drank. Ate the vinaigrette. Sasha again began to stretch his calves. It was hot and everyone was in shorts.

- Why are you massaging them all, - Ashot could not resist and immediately pricked: - They won’t become longer.

“Nijinsky also had short legs,” Roman retorted for Sasha, he knew everything about everyone. By the way, do you know how he explained why he had such a phenomenal jump? Very simply, he says, I jump up and stay in the air for a minute, that's all ...

“All right,” Sasha interrupted, “we need to move. We pull on the trousers.

They began to dress.

- How much currency did they give you? Roman asked.

- Not at all. On the spot, they said they would. Pennies, what to talk about.

“Get some sardines, they’ll come in handy.”

- And I'll take it, - Sashka put two flat, unopened boxes in his pocket. - Bastard! “It was about power.

“But I’ll still call Henriette, whether you like it or not,” Ashot said. - Extra towers never hurt. What airport are you landing at?

- On Orly, they said ...

- So he will find you on Orly.

- The first trump card for Krivulin.

- You stay independent. This is important, they are instantly lost. They think there is someone behind them.

Henriette trained at Leningrad University. Now she was on vacation. Ashot was going to marry her. Oddly enough, just out of love, without any ulterior motive.

“You’ll understand,” Sasha grumbled. - Do not bury yourself, then you slip a foreigner to a Soviet citizen.

I'll still call.

- Well, it's crazy.

This ended the discussion. We went out into the street, it was already quite light. White nights have begun. The dawns, according to all astronomical laws, were in a hurry to replace each other, giving the night no more than an hour. Couples clung to the embankments. On the Liteiny Bridge, Sashka suddenly stopped and, clutching the railing, recited terribly loudly:

- I love you, Peter's creation, I love your strict, proud look ...

“Not proud, but slender,” Romka corrected. - Still need to...

- I must, I must, I know ... By the way, I love you bastards too! Sasha grabbed both of them by the shoulders and hugged them tightly. - Well, what can you do, I love you, that's all ...

- And we? Ashot glanced at Romka, freeing himself from his embrace.

- Just jealous, elementary jealous ...

- Now it is customary to say - in a good way you envy. Okay, so be it, I'll bring a pair of jeans.

Bring a sip of freedom. And don't forget Lolita.

Ashot raved about Nabokov, although, apart from The Gift, he didn't read anything. I read all four hundred pages in one night.

Sasha kissed them both on their rough chins.

Brother's love, brother's love! he sang.

- To the bath!

– Soulless pseudo-intellectuals. I'll bring you Lolita, don't worry. Risking everything.

At home, it turned out that Sashka's mother had packed everything. She begged from the Korovins - he often travels abroad - a luxurious suitcase with zippers so that Sasha would not be ashamed, and neatly packed everything. She also took out a foreign jacket, with gold buttons. Sasha tried it on, everything fit well on his ballet-sports figure.

- Well, why is that? He fished a sweater out of his suitcase. - It's summer...

“Summer is summer, and Canada is Canada,” Mom grabbed the sweater and put it back into the suitcase. - The same Siberia ...

“It is hotter in Siberia in summer than in Moscow, dear Vera Pavlovna,” Roman explained. - The climate is continental.

Nevertheless, the sweater remained in the suitcase. Sasha waved his hand, it was already half past six.

Mom said:

- Well, then, sat down in front of the road?

They sat down on something, Sasha - on a suitcase.

- Well? .. - he hugged and kissed his mother. Mom christened him.

“They say there are a lot of Ukrainians in Canada,” she said for no apparent reason, apparently to hide her excitement, “more than in Kyiv ...

“Perhaps…” Sashka walked over to the desk, took out from under the thick glass a photograph of the three of them, and put it into the side pocket of his jacket.

“I’ll take a look somewhere in Winnipeg and burst into tears… Let’s go.”

The theater was already worried.

- Probably drunk all night, Kunitsyn? - Looking suspiciously, said the party organizer Zuev. - I know you.

- God forbid, who do you think we are? Been cramming about Canada all night. Who is the prime minister, how many residents, how many unemployed...

- Oh, I wouldn’t joke, - Zuev was dead and hated all the artists. - Run to the director's office, everyone has already gathered.

“Run so run,” Sasha turned to the guys. - Well, look here without me ... Substitute your lips.

They bumped noses, patted each other on the back.

“Hi Trudeau,” Romka said.

“And Vladimir Vladimirovich,” Nabokov implied.

- OK. Be there! - Sashka made a pirouette and cheerfully ran down the corridor. At the end of it he stopped and raised his hand, a la Bronze Horseman:

- Neva sovereign current, its coastal granite ... So jeans, then, are not needed?

- You go...

And hid behind the door.