Expectation is everywhere

      An expensive and luxurious house. Here lived this rich old man who borrowed ten thousand from me five years ago. At that time he was not so old and rich, but due to receiving a house from relatives as an inheritance, he unexpectedly quickly became taller than me and everyone else, taking a favorable place in this stratum of society. The old bastard fancied himself a nobleman, changed for the worse, showing himself as he really is. It wouldn’t bother me, but only this moral freak is not going to repay the debt. Sooner or later I will beat all this nonsense out of him and return my money, since it is not enough for the publication of my new book in the publishing house. In addition to the accumulated funds, I would like to return what should rightfully belong to me.       Walking along the short corridor of the first floor, I stopped at the door to his office. After knocking, he entered under the word “enter”, which sounded in a hoarse voice from this room. The old man was sitting at the table, sorting through some papers with notes. His musical education allowed him to understand the art of music, and he always used it. Looking at me through the lenses of his glasses, he smiled, delighted with a familiar face. — What a meeting, Georgy! — he exclaimed, getting up from the table and forgetting about the case for a while. — It’s been a long time since you came to me. Did you want something? - You asshole, you know why I come to you every six months, — I replied, walking up to him and looking around the office, which has hardly changed all these years. — How many times have you promised to return the money to me? Promised, promised… I won’t leave you alone. - There will be money, there will be, — the old man said, shaking my hand. — I explained to you why there weren’t any for you. Explained? Well, that’s it. I have everything planned out: money there, money here… — Yes, I don’t give a shit where you put your free money, — I began to get angry. — When will you return the money? Eh? — I will return, I will return everything. Yes, you sit down, why stand there? They don’t discuss business standing up. — What the fuck is there to discuss if there is no money? I didn’t come to you to drink tea and not to discuss business. There are no such cases. Where’s business? Last time it was the same, but he left with nothing, fuck. — Don’t swear, Gosha, don’t swear, — the old man went to his place at the table and sat down on a chair. — And you sit down. Here is a free place. Sit down. — Sit down, fuck… — I muttered discontentedly, sitting down on a chair located opposite the old man. — Well, I sat down. What’s next? Are you going to rub the fuck in me again? About charity and all this shit is yours. You’re fucking up money, you know that? — Not shit, but good deeds, — the old man replied, putting the papers in a single pile so that they would not get in the way. — For orphans, for example, I gave it to them last week… I gave away five thousand! They are children, they need help. — What the fuck is this help for them, huh? Did they personally ask you to do this? Fucking help… do you think I don’t need help? — It is necessary, it is absolutely necessary, — the old man agreed, taking off his glasses and laying them on a stack of papers. — This time I thought about you, don’t worry. — Thanks, fuck, this time… — Don’t swear at me. You’re swearing for nothing. Look out the window, it’s a nice, sunny day. Look at the sun and don’t be angry, smile. — Don’t get off the subject. I don’t need your fucking sun, let it shine, don’t shine, what difference does it make to me? Give me the money. — Yes, there will be money, even more. They will, but don’t be angry just. You’re angry for nothing. And everyone needs the sun, and you first of all. Yes, it shines brighter on you than on anyone else! Rejoice! — Fucked with your sun, where’s the money? Where are they, I ask? — Let there be money! Here’s a look, what’s the deal… I have a daughter. Do you know her? — Nastya or something? And what about her? — She’s whore. She has money! She has ten thousand! You go up to the second floor, knock on her door, ask… you have to give it, no other way! — And what if he doesn’t? And why does she have money when I came to you? You don’t want to spread your own, do you, Grandfather? — I have everything planned out! She works as a prostitute. I agreed with her that she would give you ten thousand. Do you understand? She’s a fucking prostitute. I’ve arranged everything with her, she agrees to pay you back. She will give her money, but consider that I gave it to her. — That bastard, — I smiled maliciously, realizing what it all leads to. — You’re not going to give me my money back. Did you decide to leave me alone through your daughter? — I’m telling you, I have everything planned out. All funds, all income and expenses. It will be easier this way, I assure you. My daughter? Mine! What is the problem? Will you return the money? You’ll get it back, fuck it all! — Okay, fuck it, I agree. Since you have everything planned out there, as you say. Well, what if he doesn’t? — I have to give it back. He will give it back. If not, ask her to give it in the ass. She certainly won’t give up on that. — Fuck me her ass if I need money? Are you trying to fuck me again? Fuck, what then? He’ll give you an ass, but he won’t give you money? — If he still gives his ass, so be it, I will sacrifice the funds that are planned. See? A solid benefit! She’s your ass, and I’m the money! — Are you completely fucked up? If you can, repay the debt now. What the fuck are you making me wait for? — This is only for an emergency. That’s it, come on, go and fuck her so that everyone is happy and happy. I know her, she’s a whore, so it’s better to give her ass, and keep the money for herself. — I can’t fucking understand you. She has to give money, but only if she doesn’t give money. But if you know she’d rather give you an ass, then give me that money already! — Well, what if she still gives money? And I have everything planned out! Charity, construction, joint-stock contributions. It all needs money. Why does this whore need money? That’s right, she doesn’t need them. You need them, I need them, but she doesn’t need them, she spends all sorts of shit. — Everyone needs money. Prostitutes are also People, even if they are female. But you’re fucking right, man. She’s still a whore, and you and I are spending money on business… — That’s right! Right! Does she fucking need the money? And we? You and I are busy People, we have everything planned out. I have everything planned out, do you too? Or am I saying the wrong thing? — All that, fuck, all that, — I had to agree, getting up. — I don’t want to admit that you’re right, but sometimes you say normal things. Where to go to this whore? — So, it’s like this: you go up to the second floor, go down the corridor and the third door on the right. She should be there now. I talked to her half an hour ago. — I see… well, I’m off. — Go, go, have a good trip…       Leaving the office, I went to Nastya. A good girl, but a fool, everyone knows about it. Loves to suck cocks, give a fuck to her ass and vagina. Many people love her only for her natural beauty, but as a person and a person, no one is interested in her, including me. I’m not interested in women at all, masturbation is quite enough, but if necessary, I can fuck, somehow it doesn’t matter.       I followed the indicated route and knocked on Nastya’s door. Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door and went inside. On a soft sofa, located against the left wall, a bearded man with a beer belly fucked a girl in the dog pose. — Oh, hello, Gosha, — the prostitute smiled when she saw me. — Did you come for the money? — Hello, Nastenka! — I smiled, walking up to the sofa and squatting down next to him. — I came as your father said. You’ve already agreed on everything with him, haven’t you? — About everything, — Nastya confirmed, arching her back in bliss from the penetration of the man’s penis. — You wait for now, we’ll finish soon. — You’re working, right? By the sweat of my brow, as they say. Is it good to fuck at least? — Excellent! Yes! Yes! Faster, deeper ah! — Is the fuck good? What do you say? — I turned to the man. — Fucking great, I won’t say anything bad, — the man replied, working on her vagina even harder. — How’s the money going? I asked the prostitute. — Or will you give me your ass? — Ass, — Nastya nodded her head. — I’m saving money to move from here to another country. You know, such a country… Japan… The land of opportunity. You can’t think of a better one, can you? And I won’t be a prostitute anymore… — Where are you going? A prostitute and a prostitute in Japan. Will you move, so what do you want to become? — Voice acting! This is my dream job! I know Japanese, I have an excellent voice. I’m sure of it. I will voice any anime girl! — Yes, where have you seen Russian Japanese cartoons voiced? Some kind of bullshit. You’ll be a whore, they’ll never take you in marriage. Keep your dreams to yourself. — No, I’ll be a voice actor… — Fuck. You will not work there by anyone. Who needs you there? You’ll be a whore, just like now. Fuck you, get over it already. — No! — Nastya shouted, starting to shed tears. — I don’t want to put up with it! I don’t want to! I want to be a voice actor! I want to sleep with dakimakura! I’m tired of being a prostitute, I’m tired… — What are you doing? Someone has to be a prostitute, right? Don’t cry, are you lucky girl! Is it bad to be a whore? — Fuck you, stop calling me names! — Nastya pushed me weakly with her left hand. — I’m a woman! Treat me normally!       The man slapped the whore on the buttock and finished in it. Taking out his penis, he silently dressed and left the room. I watched him for a while until he disappeared. Nastya buried her face in the blanket, sobbing loudly. Sighing, I got up, stripped naked and turned her over on her back. Spreading his legs, with a quick movement he entered her anal hole with his already erect penis. — Woman, fuck… — I said, forcefully entering Nastya. — No matter who you are, everyone should be treated equally. Do you think I’m only treating you this way? With everyone! And I fuck men, if necessary. There is a point, so it can be used, and I don’t care who this point belongs to. — Faggot! — the prostitute called me through tears. — Faggots fuck men, do you understand?! — I know it perfectly well without you… And you’re fucking. You fuck with all the men. No better than me. — Go to hell!       Suddenly the door opened and a naked old man entered the room. In his hands he held butter and sunflower oil, as well as a small wad of money. Putting them on the table near the armchair in the corner and humming some song, he went to the sofa, looking at how I have his daughter. — Still an ass, — grandfather smiled. — There’s your money, Georgy, on the table. Are you going to finish with the whore or what? - Well, since I’ve already started, let me finish, — I replied, not taking my eyes off the long-awaited money. — You finally got them back. It would have been so long ago… —Come on, let’s move on to the chair, — the old man said. — I don’t mind spending time with my daughter myself. She’s been avoiding me more and more. — Old pervert, — I said, taking out my penis and lifting the prostitute in my arms to carry her to the chair. — It’s called incest. — Fuck it, it doesn’t matter, — the old man waved off, going to the table and unpacking the butter. — She’s a whore, and a soul mate in this case is not a hindrance.       Taking enough oil in his palm, he began to smear his daughter’s right breast with it and suck it, massaging the left. — I fucked up in nature, old man, — I said, opening a bottle of sunflower oil and pouring it over the prostitute from head to toe. — What are you doing? — crying whore, not resisting. — Please stop… - You’re lying, — I grinned, — because you want us to continue. — No, I don’t want… I don’t want anything else…       There was a knife on the table. Taking it, she cut her throat. The old man smiled, and I saw his impotent penis start to get up. — Well, fuck her yourself, — I spat on the floor. — I don’t need her dead. — In vain, — the old man inserted a penis into the vagina of a dead whore. — The dead are even better. — Well, I’m off, — I began to dress in my clothes. — I hope I won’t see you again. You’re completely fucked up, I see, so I won’t take another step here. And you won’t get a “thank you” for returning the debt, I’ve been waiting for you for too long.       I took the money from the table and walked out of the room. Obviously, the old man got indescribable pleasure from a prostitute smeared with oil and blood. — Well, fuck your dead daughter next, — I said, leaving. — Bye. — Get lost! — the old man answered, without distracting himself from the case, and I learned forever what his attitude towards me really was.

***

      The next day, a friend who works as an editor at the publishing house where I have been publishing for several years came to my apartment. A profitable meeting, you can’t say anything. He often helps me to write a book for successful publication. After every chapter he writes, he comes to my house and we discuss what he has written. Because of my habit of avoiding all censorship, he often corrects me in those places that need to be removed or replaced with something else. I can’t even imagine what I would have done without him, and in what direction my creative path would have gone.       We said hello and sat down at my desk. Dmitry behaved like at home. His bald head and clean-shaven face did not distinguish him from other People of the same type. Clear intelligent eyes studied the manuscript of the last chapter, and I explained the situation to him: - You know how it feels, — I told him. — Absolutely nothing comes into my head. How am I going to continue writing anything when I’m not in the mood? — Well, how is it, Georgy? A month has passed, — Dmitry said, reading the tenth chapter. — You told me yourself that you know what you want to see in the next chapters. Why don’t you write anything? Just sit down and start. — Yes, I’m telling you, I’m not in the mood. Motivation, inspiration… These are not empty words. Yes, and in life these fucking problems… You’re always waiting for something, and what you’re waiting for, fuck knows. Either victory or defeat, do you get into the essence? There is a problem, there is… — Well, what’s the problem? Tell me about her. — Yes, it’s bullshit for you, you won’t understand. I’ll tell you something now, and you’ll think I’m complaining. I’m not going to tell you anything, explain… — What is it? Are we friends or what? Just explain what the problem is. — Waiting, you know? You expect it every day. It would be fine if this expectation justified itself, because it drives you crazy, you brute. I thought recently that here, soon, freedom from expectation, and fuck. One problem after another. — So what’s going on? Maybe to a psychologist? — I don’t need these psychologists… fucking fuckers. I want to stop waiting. To do what I’ve been wanting for so long, but it doesn’t work out. We must wait. You can go crazy. Yesterday I got rid of one expectation, I returned the debt. And now? You can’t imagine, I wanted to be dead. Yesterday, when I saw it, I thought, “Fuck me, is a dead woman? But I fucking want her and that’s it. — A tendency to necrophilia? An unhealthy desire. Where did you see a dead woman? - You know her. Nastya is the prostitute of that old man, from whom I could not take a debt in any way. - His daughter? What happened to her? — She died. She cut her throat, a prostitute. Right in front of our eyes. The old man and I were there together. And he doesn’t give a fuck that she’s dead. Okay, I’m not related to her, but grandfather, in short, gave a fuck, his penis rose on the dead. — Fucked up. What’s going on there anyway, I wonder? Well, it’s none of my business. Is that what’s bothering you? — Exactly. I want to fuck her. I want to fuck. Especially smeared with that blood and oil. See, I fucked up too. It’s a nightmare. — Forget about her. It’s better to think about how to finish the book as soon as possible and better. Agree, it’s cool, isn’t it? Here is the mating of three little kangaroos, and philosophical thoughts, acute social and psychological themes, and lyrical digressions are magnificent… These ten chapters are perfect! True, it’s a little bit to correct the grammar, but in general, it’s a fuck yeah! — I can’t, I can’t. Nothing is written at all. I take a pen in my hands, start writing something, and shit comes out. That’s how it turns out. — Fuck is what you wrote today. Have you read this story yourself? I have no words, it’s just the most infernal fucked up. — I already told you, it somehow turned out by itself. I decided to throw out feelings, thoughts. That’s how art affects me. And this strange dream that I had today, I decided to embody it in literature. I myself am in awe of what I have written. Do you think I liked it? Well, what is it?       I picked up seven pages of the manuscript of today’s story and read them from beginning to end. Shaking his head from the utter ahuevaniya, with quick movements he turned them into shreds and threw them into the trash. Slamming his palms on the table, he solemnly declared: - To hell with this fucking waiting! I’ll take up the book tomorrow! — Keep it that way! — my friend smiled, putting the manuscript of the last written chapter of the novel on the table and sprawling on a chair. — That’s where we should have started!