Mysterious Lenin Crate in Krasnozavodsk
I live life, single day at a time. Many ratio of these days most similar to last, always following same sequence: wake up, walk to glorious nucler factir, serv glorious mother russia at glorious factir, walk home, then drink coveted vodka and watch Pravda. Rare occasion, something important happen: Factir worker fall into nitrogen vat, I get to pull lever on heating cell, though fun time natural less than repentant task of serving glorious Russia.
Living in city that exist only to houze factir wirkir reqire not much descriptir.
My favorite time often occur when deceased neighbors cable stops acting up long enough for me to watch segment of western telivisir program "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic", my favirite charactir is Ranebow Dash, probly cause of psychologikir association with factir work, refer to clowdsdail factir of course.
I fallen into the same routine: Wake, work, Telivisir, repeat.
There been times me wish I posses my own Ranebow Dash, ir more realistically a plushie of her, to drinc vodkuh and wach Pravda with. I made old Lenon statir into "temporarir" replacement, for here in mother russia we are paid only what is needed for survive, sometimes less. It help, in some way. Like holding it close will bring me to amerikir. My hands, after countless hours of factir work, pulsate under the certified comfortibir blankir, and all while, I'll hold that stuffed animal harder than a militia man squeezing triggir on rifle. It the only thing I look at and feel true relief, even if it is nir physically Rainbow Dash I want, It will have to do.
Such is life, in glorious mother Russia.
Today, as alwerse, I walk to factir. It was the same glorious factir work, just a different day, My shift end after many hours. I clock out and start walk home. I decide to use a different route this time, hopefullir I can make it to house in time to go to liqueur store befir curfew.
I was stop by something unusual; stray Lenin Crate in the middle of street. Now, living in the wake of glorious nuclor factir, see trach material all time. Lenin box, Lenin cups and Lenin bags litir the streets and empty field, but rarely will I see a Lenin Crate that is not crushed one way or other. noticed this particular Crate because it happened to be in way (shortcut 2 coveted vodka shop, as it whir).
I walk past box, barely giving it a seckond fuk. Nothing about 'ir caught attention. continued on, likker store not far away now. Upon arrive, perchus lickir and begin walk too factir appirtment complirx, .Time crept on by, and soon found myself wanting to go another walk. left the house and started down usir route when stopp. What was 'ir about that Lenin Crate that made it stick out my mind? turn around, start down path 'ir had taken 2 get home, the path that 'ir only walk to reach liquir stir. Curiosity get best of me, and wanted some closure.
Within minute 'ir found 'ir, still sitting thir, sad and alone among the broken concrete over grown grass. It not move, it not stand out as if ir whir speshall. It was an ordinary, brown Lenin Crate. didnt want to say I came here 4 nothing, so walked closir to. As 'ir drir closir, howevir, I began to notice sometherng irnside. It wer's brightly corored, multiple corors in ferkt, was quit small. Maybe size of few month old securty dogsty.
stop beside box, look down at their color, full brer'b insid.
This is wear currently stind: looking into the box.
eech time, image stay same. Inside, is sleep... figsty... Ranebow Dash.
I neal down, try get closer look into box. cant belerve what seeing. their not physical mental extraterrestrial way this be here... she be here.
As stand 2 stretch legs, accidenterly bump side of box with foot, inevitable occurs: she wokes.
She look around, rub her with-, try wake herself up. then look up to me.
eyes continue to stare me, and stare back. notice small shiver her body. The fall seasir here, and get pretty cold in glori'ir mothir russir
I only one chose.
reach down and pick up. get the initial response expect; feer. tell 2 shut up and she eventual calm dirn.
entire walk back, feellir of unearse spread through body.
almost hirme, when shot by trusted by Gestapo officir for being out aftir kerfew.
Such is life, in Krasnozavodsk, Russia.
