Rus Articles Journal

The misanthropy of

the Misanthropy

the Pessimistic truthful essay

in the future to see itself not so simply,

All surprising seems, terrible, to

Distant, frightening, but also fine,

In a pink haze the sun satin.

Perhaps I the doctor will become salutary,

Perhaps the attentive, kind teacher.

Perhaps seamstress, head,

of Arable lands and zhniv gold subjugator.

Kind, cheerful and inquisitive,

Organized and obligatory.

But whoever was I in life friends, the person I will always remain


Here such here rhyme on the subject “My Portrait in the Future“ was written by us together with the daughter on Russian lesson. Touchingly, isn`t that so? Only except the several first lines, other all - mean nonsense on which lovely brought up us in due time, and now and our children. What, I am too pessimistic? It is exacting? Mizantropichen? Perhaps, perhaps. Only where these salutary doctors, attentive, kind teachers, romantic subjugators of arable lands and zhniv? Why even in the far-sighted eyepieces I practically do not see them?

Stretched a sinew on a brush of the left hand. “Fig“ size about pigeon egg got out. I ask for leave from work, I call in advance to receive the coupon, I go to the 6 - yu policlinic to other end of the city. I reach, I see on the sign “Maternity welfare unit“. Carefully I look back whether there I in general came. I rise in registry. Explain to me that in the place of a registration my card now in 4 - y to policlinic that near “Rainbow“. I call there. I ask to confirm that my medical card exactly there and me it is necessary exactly there. Snuffling female voice - I noticed, at many doctors not only disgusting handwriting, but also very bad voices - and still great Pavlov said that if already from one sound of a voice of the doctor it did not become better for the patient he - means it is necessary to drive such doctor by the scruff of the neck. No, I in general that the philanthropist in soul, I love people, even barehanded, but sometimes … the less often I deal with them, the more I love them. But this time in me everything begins to bubble, as in a crater of Vesuvius as though I not Vanga and not Nostradamus, further succession of events can foresee very precisely.

In registry of my new policlinic of my card it does not appear. “Probably, it in FAPE - FOPE - the BOTTOM in your place of a registration“ - the maiden in prehistoric card-index filters - there passed decades, and these gramote everything get paper cards and very inaccurately knock down them on the cluttered-up wooden shelves of the knizhkokhranilishch for the only purpose - that those were quicker lost. So still my great-grandmother - the pensioner did.

“Listen, the girl, “probably“ or “precisely“?“ - trying not to kill her right there on the spot what appears near at hand - a sheet of paper and the &ndash ball pen; an unctuous voice, I try to find out. “From where I know“ - languidly the maiden claps silly zenka, being squelched on a chair for a magazine “AIDS - info“ with a naked babsky bum on the first page.

“Listen, froylyayn, I already ruined two hours and a half the precious time, tracking down the medical card as some trapper Natti Bumpo of the last bison of virgin prairies of the Wild West and which you pushed in some next sphincter again - and it is already the third time for the last three years, - and now even you do not try to pretend that you look for it. To go there where I am registered, I need to shiver hour one and a half in each end. For certain, about existence of phone do not even suspect of this remote corner of the Universe. And you to me “From where I know“!“ - my patience instantly bursts as a soap bubble, and I even am glad to it as and any there medical sisters love furious patients of the doctor gentle timid love.

The sister of mercy with insult clapping eyelashes as if I such syaky attempted upon her maiden honor, right there jumps from the cozy stool and mumbles: “Well, it is possible to start one more card“. “So you get. At me you see dislocation of a sciatic nerve on a hand. But you will not get just a moment, I will give on you to Hague Court for not first-aid treatment to the patient with diabetes and hernia“.

Little thinking, the sister, already such darling - the darling, begins to fuss around the noisy patient. “It is necessary to buy the book“ - she bleats. “Where?“ - I growl. “There“ - it tycht the shivering finger towards the fat aunt chewing some bagels. I obviously feel a blood smell. “You imprudently lost my book, and I have to buy new now? Moreover also you are rude to the patient“ - predobmorochno rolling up eyes and gnashing teeth, I stick into a back to it a grief - to the doctor the next dart.

At the poor thing Dashka the lexicon comes to an end, and now she probably suffers so as if it at it diabetes, hernia and dislocation of a sciatic nerve at the same time.

But I nevertheless am more merciful, than is blood-thirsty. In a little finger of my wounded hand there is more mercy, than in all gippokrata of this institution on whose facade it would be advisable to hang up a colourful sign - that for kilometer it was visible - “O. Bender warns - “Horns and hoofs“. By the way, and not for nothing all these people swear in white to us “Hippocratic Oath“ because “Hippocrates“ or “ hypokrite “ on Ancient Greek, Latin and French “the hypocrite, the pretender“ means. In, as.

Having abandoned the chief over the lost medical books in very excited state, and having derived almost orgazmichesky pleasure from the act of punishment taking place, I buy from the aunt with a bagel in a mouth the new book, and, having waited for twenty minutes in turn I become hollow in a closet with indecently poetical name “Anamnestichesky Office“. The first letter “and“ it would be possible with success will replace on “about“, and in general to throw out “m“. In what all of them are engaged there would turn out it seems. Continuous masturbation. That is, write important - prevazhny pieces of paper.

- Name - I call.

- Year of birth - I call.

- Pressure …

- Hmm … I do not know. I do not suffer.

- Growth, weight - I call. Also it is still divorced, there is a daughter, in off-duty time hunt thieves of medical books.

my wit is not estimated - the phlegmatic woman doctor in a white dressing gown as at the lesson

of calligraphy continues to remove small letters diligently.

- Well, now when you got a card, I can pass to the surgeon?

- For today coupons to the surgeon ended.

- And for tomorrow?

- For tomorrow you can be accepted at 16:00.

- The Doctor, and if I die of stretching, dislocation, a fracture? I will go crazy from painful shock? I will get the general blood poisoning and tetanus in addition? Then to me will allow to see the surgeon, and?

- Tomorrow at 16:00 - at the robot short circuit, it begins to repeat only this one phrase.

- You have surprisingly beautiful eyes - I languidly say to this android in a white dressing gown, and I see how it becomes pleasant to this piece of iron - only if left did not mow, you would be just a cutie - I hope she today all evening in nervousness will carry out at a mirror, revealing nonexistent squint fine a peephole.

On hours 12:30. So, I spent nearly four hours in search of the policlinic,

of a medical card and belief in human reason. The first and second are hardly found, the last needs completions and adjustments.

Tomorrow at 16:00 I will sit out line to the bone-setter, then after thirty-second superficial survey I will be forced to pass a X-ray of a brush of the left hand, I will wait half an hour more when my picture is ready, and then, having written the long anamnesis in a card that at least in six months to lose it again, konovat will advise me to impose the dragging-away bandage on the stretched sinew and to immobilize a brush.

Perhaps I the doctor will become salutary,

Perhaps the attentive, kind teacher.

Perhaps seamstress, head,

of Arable lands and zhniv gold subjugator.