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Summary of Moscow-Petushki Erofeev

VV Erofeev
Moscow-Petushki
Venichka Erofeev travels from Moscow to the regional center near Moscow called Petushki. There lives a sweetheart hero, delightful and unique, to which he travels on Fridays, buying a bag of sweets “Cornflower” as a gift.
Venichka Erofeev has already begun his wanderings. The day before, he had taken a glass of teeth, and then – on Kaliayevskaya – another glass, no longer teeth, but coriander, followed by two more circles of Zhigulevsky beer and from the neck – alb-de-dessert. “You, of course, ask: and then, Venichka, and then, what did you drink?” The hero will not slow down with an answer, though, with some difficulty, restoring the sequence of his actions: on the street Chekhov two glasses of hunting. And then he went to the Center to see the Kremlin at least once, although he knew that he would still end up on Kursk railway station. But he did not get to Kursk, but got into some unknown entrance,

from which he left – with a dull weight in his heart – when it was light. With a pathetic tear, he asks: what is more in this burden – paralysis or nausea? “Oh, the ephemeral! Oh, the most powerless and shameful time in the life of my people – the time from dawn to the opening of shops! “Venichka, as he himself says, does not go, but is attracted, overcoming hangover nausea, to Kursky railway station, from where the train goes to the desired Petushki. in the restaurant, and his soul shudders in desperation when the bouncer reports that there is no alcohol, his soul yearns for a very small amount – only eight hundred grams of sherry, and for this thirst – with all his hungover pusillanimity and gentleness – and pushed to the air uh, followed by a suitcase with gifts (“O bestial grin of being!”) .There will be two more “mortal” hours before departure, which Venichka prefers to pass over in silence, and here he is already on some rise: his suitcase has acquired some weight. – two bottles of Kuban, two quarters of Russian and pink strong.

And two more sandwiches, because the first dose of Venichka without snacks can not. This then, until the ninth, he is already calm without it, but after the ninth again I need a sandwich. Venichka frankly shares with the reader the subtle nuances of his way of life, that is, drinking, he spit on the irony of the imaginary interlocutors, among whom are God, then angels, then people. Most of all in his soul, according to his confession, “sorrow” and “fear” and yet dumbness, every day in the morning his heart exudes this infusion and bathes in it until evening. And how, knowing that “world sorrow” is not a fiction, not to drink Kuban? but after the ninth again I need a sandwich. Venichka frankly shares with the reader the subtle nuances of his way of life, that is, drinking, he spit on the irony of the imaginary interlocutors, among whom are God, then angels, then people. Most of all in his soul, according to his confession, “sorrow” and “fear” and yet dumbness, every day in the morning his heart exudes this infusion and bathes in it until evening. And how, knowing that “world sorrow” is not a fiction, not to drink Kuban? but after the ninth again I need a sandwich. Venichka frankly shares with the reader the subtle nuances of his way of life, that is, drinking, he spit on the irony of the imaginary interlocutors, among whom are God, then angels, then people. Most of all in his soul, according to his confession, “sorrow” and “fear” and yet dumbness, every day in the morning his heart exudes this infusion and bathes in it until evening. And how, knowing that “world sorrow” is not a fiction, not to drink Kuban? every day of the morning his heart exudes this infusion and bathes in it until evening. And how, knowing that “world sorrow” is not a fiction, not to drink Kuban? every day of the morning his heart exudes this infusion and bathes in it until evening. And how, knowing that “world sorrow” is not a fiction, not to drink Kuban?
So, after examining his treasures, Venichka was restrained. Is that what he wants? Does his soul yearn for this? No, this is not what he wants, but it is desirable. He takes a quarter and a sandwich, goes out into the vestibule and finally lets out his exhausted spirit. He drinks while the train passes between the stations Serp and Molot – Karacharovo, then Karacharovo – Chukhlinka, etc. He is already able to perceive the impressions of being, he is able to recall the different stories of his life, revealing his thin and trembling soul to the reader.
One of these stories, full of black humor, was thrown off Venichka’s brigade. The production process of hard workers consisted of playing siku, drinking vermouth and unwinding the cable. Venichka simplified the process: the cable stopped touching at all, the day was played in sika, the day we drank vermouth or cologne “Freshness”. But it ruined another. A romantic in the shower, Venichka, taking care of his subordinates, introduced individual schedules and monthly reports: who drank how much, and reflected in the diagrams. They also got accidentally together with the regular social responsibilities of the brigade in the administration.
Since then, Venichka, having slipped from the public staircase, which he now spits on, has gone roaming. He does not wait for Petushkov, where on the platform there are red eyelashes, lowered prostrate feet, and the swaying of forms, and the braid from the back of the neck to the priests, and behind the Petushkas – the baby, the most plump and mildest of all babies, who knows the letter “yu” and is waiting for it from Venichka nuts. The Queen of Heaven, how far back to Petushki! Is it so easy to endure? Venichka goes out into the vestibule and drinks Kuban from the mouth, without a sandwich, with her head thrown back like a pianist. Having drunk the same, he continues his mental conversation with the heavens on which they are worried that he will not reach again, then with the baby, without whom he feels alone.
No, Venichka does not complain. Living in the light of thirty years, he believes that life is beautiful, and, passing through different stations, shares the wisdom gained for not so long term: it studies the drunken hiccups in its mathematical aspect, then unfolds before the reader the recipes of delicious cocktails consisting of alcoholic, different types of perfumes and polishes. Gradually, more and more getting up, he talks with fellow travelers, shines with a philosophical mindset and erudition. Then Venichka tells another bike to the inspector Semenych, who fined fines for free travel of grams of alcohol and a large hunter to various kinds of alcove stories, “Shakhrazada” Venichka is the only stowaway who never failed to bring Semenych, each time heard his stories.
This continues until Venichke suddenly starts to dream of a revolution in a separate “Petushinsky” district, plenums, his election, Venichki, into the presidency, then renunciation of power and an offended return to Petushki, whom he can not find at all. Venichka sort of comes to, but the passengers smirk at something dirty, looking at him, they turn to him: “Comrade Lieutenant”, it’s generally indecent: “sister.” And outside the window is darkness, although it should seem to be morning and light. And the train is most likely not in Petushki, but for some reason to Moscow.

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