Syedyshev Oleg
Syedyshev Oleg

Humorous Essays Based on students' memories

"All have died
except for those who are alive, and those whom we remember"Confucius

Essay 2. Mini-dorm

Right after my ahead of schedule enrollment to the institute my parents became concerned by the necessity to find a decent place for me to stay at, as it was a long way to travel from Kedrovka every day, and the trips took a lot of time. Now I do not even remember, but I was introduced to four guys, three of who were the second-year students: Kolya Kozlov,

Petya Kozlov

Zhora Chernobai and Vadim Severin, and one, Zhenya Romashov, was supposed to be at the same course of study with me. Funny enough that Zhenya and I happened to study in the same students' group # 218. These guys were occupying two rooms in a house and agreed to make room for me. It was later when I had come to a conclusion that it was better for a student to live alone, but at that time I was impressed that the second year students would give me pieces of advice about "what and how" at the institute.

Though here is what I wanted to write about. The guys had an agreement that they ate at the place where they lived, and after I joined them, we developed a schedule (my day was Wednesday, on Saturday and Sunday each of us could eat where and how he wished, for example, I used to go to Kedrovka to my parents) and agreed about the amount of money, which each of us had to spend to buy food. The tastiest days were when Zhora Chernobai was on duty. He himself loved to eat and spoiled us as well. He could make pancakes for the whole gang and make some of them with stuffing. Or he could bake pies filled with liver sausage or make a real borsh. Two or three Saturdays in a row I was frying tons of potatoes (what I could do) on lard. And though the guys were praising me, I felt that I was repeating myself.


I've always loved a Czeck writer Yaroslav Hasek. Those who read him - remember, like Schweik made up his mind to give "horizontal" pleasure to lieutenant Lukash and made chicken soup for him.

Under the impression of this fact I decided to make the guys happy with a chicken soup. I bought a chicken in a store. I chose the bigger one. I bought egg vermicelli - it was a hard-to-get thing at those times. Well, it produced the right effect. When the guys came home, there was such delicious smell of chicken broth from the kitchen which was in the semi-basement, that they became very excited, rubbed their hands, saying - come on, treat us! We came down to the kitchen, sat at the table. The owner had a round table in the kitchen. Started eating, all of us ate with appetite asking for another helping. I was on the seventh heaven. I told the guys about the "horizontal" pleasure. To put it short, everything was fine.

Zhora Chernobaj, Eugene Romashov

And then, it was the time, and I took the chicken out of the saucepan, and we charged Zhora to cut it. Zhora was the most fair of all of us. Zhora was also pleased with the credit he was given and that he was well-fed, he started tearing the chicken into parts. And then happened what happened. A limp paper bag fell out of the chicken's chest. The paper was the wrapping one, brown. One won't find it these days. I suspected that something was wrong and quietly while everybody were staring at the paper bag moved closer to the stairs leading upstairs. And I did the right thing by this maneuver. Zhora unwrapped the bag, and a chicken head all in feather, legs with claws and pluck (leaver, chicken stomach and heart) fell out of it. I decided not to wait longer for further events and like a bullet flew upstairs and shut the door, and even managed to lock it. There were shouting and scolding coming from the kitchen. I was sitting upstairs behind the locked door and exhorting the guys, asking them to calm down reminding them of how much they were praising me and asking for a second helping, as it was really tasty. So what, a head and legs! And if one looks into it, there are no chickens without heads. I'd rather not said that to them: they almost appeased when we were talking about a second helping, and after that lost their temper again!

And suddenly I made an excellent move. I apologized and said that I was going to open the door and come down to them to their mercy. So I did. And the guys forgave me. Though Zhenka, a pest, suggested not togive me the chicken meat, but give me the head and legs instead, as there was no chicken without a head. Though the rest of the guys put him to shame, and the dinner was finished in amiable peaceful atmosphere. There were stories about the incident, and all did their best to make it sound as funny as possible.

Yes, everything ended up fine, but in a month I left the guys. Five people are too many to have life.

july 4, 2011

© Copyright: Oleg Syedyshev, 2012
Publishing licence #21202091715

Translated by Viktoria Potykinato content