At the end of the last century, the musician Dima lived in Naberezhnye Chelny.
Dima played at weddings and funerals, earned quite good money for himself, got married and dreamed of children, better than two.
Live and rejoice, but here, in his serene life, without a declaration of war, a black - with a black stripe, I would even say - a black hole invaded.
In the beginning, Dima's wife left for some Tatar, and only then, together with this Tatar, she kicked Dima out of the house.
There was nowhere to live.
And our hero, on reflection, reasoned: it's better nowhere to live in Moscow than in Naberezhnye chelny.
So he collected all his things (which were not useful to the Tatar) - a guitar and a backpack with music discs, bought a reserved seat ticket and went to conquer the capital.
With almost all the money, Dima rented an apartment in a new building - completely empty, without furniture and even without a floor, and from morning till night he ran around the city in search of ways to conquer Moscow.
The conquest began with the tragic loss of his beloved guitar, as a result of a demonstrative massacre on the Old Arbat. New street guitarists are not very popular there, they have nowhere to go.
Dima's face was very swollen and stopped looking like a photo in a passport, and this, of course, is not free, every expert he met in a cop uniform confirmed.
The money is almost completely out, and going to interviews with fingals is just to make people laugh.
Another week and you will have to pay for the apartment.
And then the birthday did not add joy at all - this is not just a birthday, but a serious date - 40 years.
Dima woke up in the middle of the night from the hard, cold floor, pumped up the inflatable mattress, lay down again, thought and decided: to hell with them with the last money. Still, today is my anniversary. What am I, not a man? I'll buy a big, delicious cake, brew some tea and arrange a real holiday for myself. And nothing that without guests, I will get more.
Dima with a knife was sitting on the floor in front of a large chocolate cake and carefully aiming where to stab him, but his heart became so unbearably sad that he even sighed through the window:
- Well, what the fuck is the anniversary? What kind of cake? So many attendants exhausted him. And tomorrow what? A forty-year-old uncle, my face is broken, like a homeless man from a heating main, but I behave like a little boy!
Dima looked closely at the cake box and realized - this is his chance. The cake was one day overdue.
It is necessary to carefully pack it, since the check has not been thrown away, and quickly return it to the store. The remaining money, plus a refund for the cake, should be enough for a ticket to Chelny, there are still at least some people, not like here, the desert ...
No sooner said than done, Dima packed the cake, went down the elevator and left the entrance. Suddenly he sees: a little Toyota is slowly but surely rolling around the yard with the driver's door wide open, and behind her a woman minces and shouts funny:
- Oh! Oh! Ay! Ay! Oh! Oh!
She opened the garage and, apparently, did not put the car on the “handbrake”.
Toyota had already accelerated well and was aiming right at the side of an expensive black Mercedes.
Dima was standing very close to the "Mers", but, with all the desire, the car could not be stopped with his hands and he had no choice but to slip his long-suffering, chocolate cake between the cars.
A light "chvyak" rang out, the cake was flattened by a whole square meter, but there were not a single scratch on the machines, only frozen chocolate splashes.
The mistress of Toyota who ran up for a long time thanked her resourceful savior with a beaten face, and tried in every possible way to compensate him for the damage suffered, but Dima nobly refused:
- Well, stop it, don’t, I won’t take money, superheroes don’t take money.
- Thank you Superhero, but you went somewhere with a cake, now you need to buy a new one.
- Yes, don’t worry, you don’t need it anymore - it’s my birthday today, but there will be no guests anyway, I’m less than a month in Moscow and I don’t know anyone yet.
- Oh, congratulations.
- Thank you, and now quickly wash the door of the Mercedes, before the owner notices the chocolate fireworks, and all the best to you, good luck on the road.
Dima returned to the apartment and, cursing himself for senseless unprofitable heroism, began to count all the remaining money, including kopecks.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door (there was no bell)
Anna, the owner of Toyota, stood on the threshold. In one hand she held a large plate of homemade buns, and in the other a bottle of cognac:
- Dear newborn Superhero, am I late? Let's celebrate and play naughty buns.
On this Dima's black stripe dried up and was replaced by a white one.
Anya arranged for Dima as a sound engineer for our television company, married him and gave birth to two children for him, as he dreamed ...
When a black streak comes in my life, I always remember this story and carefully look around so as not to miss my saving cake ...