Пелевин - Поколение Пэ - три загадки иштар
текст песни

Gireev lived in a rickety black house, in front of which was a feral garden overgrown with tall, one and a half human height. By the level of amenities, his housing was a transition form between the village and the city: in the Board-Posornoye through the hole, wet and smallpox sewer pipes passing over the cesspool were visible, but where and where they led, it was unclear. However, the house had a gas stove and a phone.
Gireyev put Tatar at the table on the veranda and poured a large-low-red tin can with a white inscription in Estonian into a custard kettle of a coarse kettle.
- What is this? - asked Tatar.
“Fleet,” Gireev answered and poured boiling water into the kettle. The smell of mushroom soup spread around the room.
- Are you going to drink it?
“Don't be afraid,” said Gireev, “there are no brown here.”
He said it in such a tone as if
He took off all conceivable objections, and the Tatar did not find what to answer. For a minute he hesitated, and then he remembered that yesterday he had just read about fly agaric, and overcame doubts. The fly agaric tea tasted quite pleasant.
- And what will happen from him?
“You will see for yourself,” Gireyev answered. “You will also dry them for the winter.”
- And what to do now?
“What do you want,” said Gireev.
- Can I talk?
- Speak.
Half an hour passed after a slightly -containing conversation about common acquaintances. None of them, as expected, did not have anything interesting during this time. Only one, Lesha Chikunov, distinguished himself - he drank several bottles of Finland and the star January at night froze to death in the house on the playground.
“He left for Valgall,” Gireev commented sparingly.
- Where such confidence? - asked Tatar, but immediately remembered the running deer and the crimson sun from the label and internally agreed.
Meanwhile, some barely noticeable cheerful relaxation appeared in his body. Waves of pleasant trembling appeared in the chest, walked along the torso and hands and fell silent, almost reaching the fingers. And for some reason Tatar wanted this trembling to reach the fingers. He realized that he had drank little. But the kettle was already empty.
- Is there some more? - he asked.
“In,” said Gireev, “which I talked about.”
He got up, left the room and returned with a detailed newspaper, on which dry pieces of chopped fly agaric were scattered. On some of them there were shreds of red skin with pulled white plaques, on others there were borne newspaper paper fibers with mirror prints of letters.
Throwing a few pieces in his mouth, Tatar chewed them and swallowed them. Dried fly agaric resembled potato flakes a bit to taste, only tastier - Tatar thought that they could be sold as chips, in bags, and here, apparently, one of the roads to rapid enrichment, a jeep, an advertising clip and violent death was hidden. Thinking what this clip could be, he sent a new portion into his mouth and looked around. Some of the objects decorating the room became noticeable to him only now. For example, a piece of paper hanging on the wall in the most prominent place - it was on it a winding letter, either Sanskrit, or Tibetan, similar to a dragon with a curved tail.
- What is this? he asked Gireev.
Gireev glanced at the wall.
“Hum,” he said.
- And why do you need it?
- I travel in this way.
- Where? - asked Tatar.
Gireyev shrugged his shoulders.
“It's hard to explain,” he said. - Hum. When you do not think, much becomes clear.
But Tatar has already forgotten about his question. He was overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude to Gireev for bringing him here.
“You know,” he said, “I have a difficult period now.” I communicate mainly with bankers and advertisers. Loaded just lead. And you have here ... just as I returned home.
Gireev, apparently, understood what was happening to him.
“Film,” he said. - Never mind. A couple of such advertisers came to me in winter. They wanted to expand consciousness. And then they ran away barefoot in the snow. By