Elena Sokolskaya
Shameover

Opening remarks

I could talk for a long time about how alcohol intoxication has a bad effect on our health, etc. But

you must admit that some of the most memorable and funny stories in our lives occur precisely at

those moments when we are relaxed and defenseless.

At the same time, we are happy and carefree, isn't it funny? Then we can conclude: is alcohol so bad if it

is moderate and generally makes us who we are? So I

thought, why not tell you a story about what can happen to completely ordinary guys on a

completely ordinary day or holiday when they decide to celebrate a particular occasion? And that

sometimes things can get out of control or just

become unexpected, which will change their ideas about the world in which they live. This story is

about two friends: Ignat and Igor. In general, they are outstanding and funny guys who, in general, have already managed to get settled in life.

1.

Igor

Igor is of medium height, with a slightly careless hairstyle (which he unsuccessfully tries to style), with brown eyes, in which a mixture of irony and fatigue

often flashes. He usually dresses in comfortable but low-key clothes: jeans, T-shirts with silly prints

(which are given to him for the holidays) and his old favorite leather jacket. He often wears glasses, which give him the appearance of a tired intellectual.

He is a skeptic by nature, but deep down he is a romantic who believes in miracles (although he denies it in every possible way). He has a sharp mind and a

sarcastic sense of humor, with which he often tries to

hide his fear and insecurity. In normal situations, he prefers to stay away, but at critical moments he

shows unexpected courage and resourcefulness. He's pretty lazy and doesn't like change, but he's always

ready to help his friends, even if it means getting into another crazy adventure. He works… as an archivist in the city library.

2.

The choice of profession is determined by several factors:

Love of books: Igor really loves books, their smell, texture, and the stories they hold. Working in the library allows him to be surrounded by his favorite subjects.

Calmness and routine: the work of an archivist is a fairly calm and routine activity, which generally suits Igor, who strives to avoid stress and unpredictability (until, of course, he is dragged into another crazy adventure).

Access to knowledge: working in the library provides Igor with access to a huge amount of knowledge. This can be useful when investigating another paranormal case (for example, when you need to find information about trolls, unicorns, or Baba Yaga).

Stability: Yes, unfortunately, working as an archivist does not bring a lot of money. But Igor has enough for a modest existence, books and beer. The main thing is stability and the opportunity to do what you love.

The ideal place for reflection: the silence of the library encourages reflection, which helps Igor analyze the

events happening to him and come up with plans to save the world (or at least to save himself from another trouble).

3.

In general, working as an archivist is not just a random

choice, but a conscious decision by a person who values

silence, knowledge and books. And, oddly enough, it is this calm and routine work that allows Igor to be ready for the most incredible adventures that constantly happen to him. Ignat

Ignat is a boring IT guy who is generally optimistic and understanding of his friend and is an amazing listener. He is tall, handsome, with blue eyes. He often wears

comfortable clothes and is generally practical. He chose his profession for the money it brings him. He always

treats his friend with understanding and skepticism. He will always help and will never turn away at the right moment.

And so

And then one morning, after a stormy night, they met to listen, as always, to these funny and sometimes absurd stories, in which you, dear readers, will also take part, albeit as a simple spectator…

4.

May 23, 2023.

–Oh, buddy, don't ask," I croaked, burrowing deeper into the armchair and taking a sip of scalding coffee from my

favorite thermocup with the "Lord of the Rings" logo. The

morning sun beat mercilessly on the window, and I tried my best not to look in his direction. My poor skull was

throbbing to the beat of the alarm clock, which I had set for

damn 7 a.m., having completely forgotten to turn it off. —

Yesterday was… an epic evening. Epic in the most catastrophic sense of the word.

My friend Ignat raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, looking at me through the screen of his MacBook. —I knew you weren't going to do any good when you said you were 'just' going to have a couple of craft ales at the Lame Unicorn."

–Ignat…" I chuckled. – My friend, the "couple of craft ales" turned into a ritual drinking of tequila with the bartender,

who, as it turned out, used to work as an IT specialist and

knows a couple of hacks that might interest you in general…

but although… okay, let's leave it at that. Anyway, after

the tequila, I felt like I could fly. Well, I was sure that I could fly and shoot a small stream for Instagram.

5.

I rolled my eyes and put my hand to my forehead, remembering what happened next. – The first thing I

decided to do was prove it to the police officers who were patrolling the street. They weren't thrilled, you know.

Especially when I tried to record a TikTok with them to demonstrate my love for the law and the patriotism that

was pouring out of me… or was it something else?… Well, let's not recall this feeling, perhaps.

Ignat chuckled without looking up from the code. "You and the cops?" It's always a ridiculous sight.aragraph text

I sighed. – It gets worse. As you know, I've always wanted to learn how to play the ukulele. And so, passing by a local club where someone was trying to throw a Hawaiian party, I heard

music coming from there. Of course, I decided that the world was eager to hear my improvisation, which I would later post on YouTube, and the whole world would be able to see it.

"Oh, no," I said.… You're kidding, right? Ignat said almost without emotion, but his face clearly expressed bewilderment as he continued to work.

6.

– Oh, yes! I snatched the ukulele out of the hands of a poor hipster, who, by the way, looked quite scared and confused, wearing a strange Hawaiian shirt and with a

pierced nose. Although, I guess I seemed strange myself, not fitting into the dress code of this event. And he

started playing. What did I play? I don't know! It sounded

like a grinder grinding on rusty iron, but I was sure it was a future hit. However, the audience did not agree with me.

Plastic cups, napkins, and, I think, one vape were thrown at me. I'm not sure, really, but it was definitely smoking. I rubbed my ears. – But then I became friends with the homeless. They appreciated my avant-garde style. It seems. By the way, they had their own boombox, sot cooperation was inevitable.

Ignat shook his head. – Homeless people are always a colorful audience. – His answers were always

"meaningful and full of epithets." —Then… then, and then what happened?" Oh, yes… there was a chase. I

don't know why, but I was running away. Maybe from a

hipster, maybe from cops, or maybe from guilt and toxic

comments on Instagram. I just remember climbing up on the monument to Yuri Gagarin and starting to read Brodsky's poems to him.

7.

It was unforgettable and sometimes unintelligible. I think he would have been happy for me if he hadn't been a bronze and hadn't been stuck in the Soviet past.

I took another sip of coffee. – The last thing I remember is the couriers from the Delivery Club carrying me home. I think they confused me with a large order of food.

Ignat burst out laughing, finally looking up from his

MacBook and giving me a piercing look. "Couriers?" Seriously?

– It couldn't be more serious. They also tried to take tips from me later. And here I am. With a headache, guilt, and

the question of how I'm going to explain to the boss why I overslept the morning brunch with his wife, which was scheduled two months ago.

I sighed, finishing my coffee. – In general, Ignat, the moral of this fable is: never, do you hear? Never tell me that I can only drink "a couple of craft ales."

Ignat smiled, snapping his MacBook shut. "I'll keep that in mind. But, frankly, I'd be interested to know what hacks that IT guy knows.… 8.

I shrugged my shoulders. – We won't find out, obviously.…

God, I was exhausted. And those black eyes of mine… Half of it just slipped my mind. But Ignat didn't stop

encouraging me all this time, while I was just trying to

come to my senses. Summoning all my willpower, I ran to a meeting where I was clearly no longer expected.…

But well… sometimes you have to take responsibility for your actions, I thought, running away in a taxi.…

9.

November 28, 2023

–Damn, Ignat, don't even start," I moaned, leaning back in my chair in the coffee shop and massaging my temples. Six months have passed since our last conversation, and,

frankly, I hoped that this topic would forever remain buried in the depths of my hangover consciousness. – I'm still ashamed.

Ignat, who was sitting opposite, sipped his latte with habitual calmness and a funny grin and gloated: – Come

on, admit it, were you waiting for me to ask? Six months have passed, and it's time for the annual report on your drunken adventures.

"Annual?" Ignat, to be honest, it's more like a monthly disaster. I grimaced, remembering the events of six months ago. —Okay, okay. Just promise me you won't take this on camera. The last time you did that, my social media was on fire for weeks. And my boss was just furious.

Ignat raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. —

Honest pioneer. No videos. Just an oral recitation of your sins. It's just a pity that I forgot my cassock," he laughed.

I sighed. – In general, do you remember that startup for creating VR games that I was trying to promote?

Ignat nodded. – The one where you promised mountains of gold and a breakthrough in the industry, but in the end it all

ended with you playing a "Virtual Bruiser" with yourself?

– Yes, that's the one. So, after a disastrous speech to investors, I decided to drown my grief in the good old bar

"The Lame Unicorn".

Ignat smiled sarcastically. – How "unpredictable".

"I know, I know. But there's a catch. Unfortunately, the bar found itself in a zone of turbulence due to a new trend – alcohol yoga. Yes, that's what you're thinking. Yoga and alcohol.

I paused to enjoy the look on his face, which was puzzled, and he was just trying not to laugh in my face. – And, as you can guess, my attempt to keep my balance in the

lotus position after three shots of tequila ended badly. I ran right into a group of novice yogis, disrupting their meditation and breaking a couple of candles. "It's a masterpiece,– Ignat commented.

– That's not all. After that, I decided that I needed enlightenment. And the fastest way to get there is, of course, to participate in a local stand-up comedian contest. You know, I've always dreamed of sharing my humor with the world.

–Oh no, not stand—up," Ignat groaned, shaking his head.

"You're telling jokes at the Flatlander level."

– Well, how to say it. After a few mugs of "fire dragon" (a local cocktail made from a hellish mixture of everything that burns) My jokes have become even more…

experimental. So experimental that the audience fell silent, and then tomatoes flew at me. Real, juicy

tomatoes, or so it seemed to me. At least, I hope so.

I rubbed my face. – And to top it all off, I decided that the stage is a great place to showcase my parkour skills. You know, jumping over tables, doing somersaults.…

Ignat burst out laughing. – Is parkour in your performance? It must have been epic and, as always, unpredictable.

– Epic failure! I broke my finger when I got caught on a microphone stand, and ended the evening at the nearest

trauma center, where I tried to convince the doctor that I was a superhero and broke my finger saving the world.

"And the doctor believed you?" Ignat asked.

"He prescribed me a sedative and told me not to drink fire dragon anymore," I replied. – The funny thing is that the

next day I woke up, and my story had already gone viral on TikTok. Now I am known as a "Yoga Parkour Comedian", and I was offered to star in a social advertisement against alcohol.

I sighed, finishing my coffee. – That's it, Ignat. I'm trying to live a normal life, but apparently fate has prepared me for the role of a city lunatic.

Ignat smiled. – Well, what can I say? You make my life more interesting. But next time, maybe we can just try to sit at home and play chess?

I looked at him suspiciously. – Well, if it's ordinary chess, which will have real pieces, and not B-52?

Ignat shrugged his shoulders and said with a grin, "I promise nothing." 13.

March 12, 2024.

– Ignat, my friend, hold on tight. This story claims to be the craziest of all," I began, sipping orange juice in

the hope that vitamin C would restore my brain activity at least a little. —Yes, it has something to do with my birthday, and yes, there are goblins involved. From the sewer. Don't ask me how it happened.

Ignat, as always, settled into an armchair with interest. – Every time I think about whether you can surprise me. Tell me."

– Anyway, in honor of my birthday, my friends decided to have a "Back to the 90s" themed party. Imagine acid

colors, rave music, and a bunch of food that I'm sure was

discontinued long ago. Naturally, alcohol was necessary. And yes, I went a little overboard with the Turbo Hedgehog cocktail, a nuclear blend of energy drinks and Blue Curaçao liqueur.

Ignat grimaced. – It sounds in your repertoire.

14.

– Dangerous is an understatement. By midnight, I was sure that I was a live disco myself. I danced breakdancing on the table, rapped about tamagotchi and tried to convince

everyone that pagers were back in fashion. At some point, it seemed to me that the party lacked a real underground. And then I came up with a brilliant idea.

I paused to gather my courage. – I suggested that everyone move… to the sewers.

Ignat coughed. "Into the sewer?" Are you taking the pills that your doctor prescribed for you?

– Absolutely. Intoxicated, it seemed to me that this was the perfect place for a rave. Damp, dark, dirty – real

hardcore! To my surprise, some of my friends supported

me. Apparently, the Turbo Hedgehog didn't just affect me.

I sighed. – We found the nearest manhole and went downstairs to the general shouts of "Yes, bitches!" Of course, after arming yourself with flashlights and a portable speaker with techno music.

15.

Ignat grinned. – Sewer rave. It sounds like the beginning of a bad horror movie. – It was, but with a comedic touch. Imagine me and my friends in acid suits dancing to techno in sewage

streams. The smell, of course, was peculiar, but we tried not to pay attention to it. And then… We saw him.

I lowered my voice. – In the light of a flashlight, something looking at us from the darkness. It was small and green, w pointed ears and an evil grin. A real goblin!

Ignat, trying to hold back his laughter, clenched his teeth, gr – That's a twist!

– At first I thought it was a hallucination. But the goblin w enough. He was standing with his arms crossed over his ches

clearly wasn't thrilled with our party. "What are you doing h he growled in a raspy voice similar to that of a smoking wom

her fifties. "You've clogged the entire sewer system with presence!"

It turns out that the goblins have their own sewer system that works like a subway. And in general, all our ideas

about sewage are wrong, they are the real masters here.

And they really don't like it when tourists invade their system. Especially with a rave.

16.

– I tried to explain to him that it was just a holiday and we didn't want to offend anyone. But he didn't seem to

understand raves and themed parties very well. He started waving his arms and threatening us with some spells.

"And what did you do?" Ignat asked impatiently.

– In a fit of friendliness, I offered him a Turbo Hedgehog.

And, to my surprise, he agreed! After a couple of sips, the goblin relented. He started dancing to techno and even tried to sing along. True, his singing was more like the screams of a cat being strangled, but that's the details.

I grinned at him. – Anyway, the party in the sewers ended with a sudden friendship with a goblin. He even showed us

secret passages and told us about his problems with rats

stealing his carrion. And in the morning I was woken up by a

call from the police – it turns out that one of the neighbors heard screams from the manhole and called the squad. So I

had to explain to the officers that we were just celebrating a birthday with a goblin. Of course, they didn't believe it. But after paying the fine, we were released.

17.

Ignat laughed. – Wow, you've outdone yourself!

Friendship with a goblin from the sewers is something new!

"Yeah, Ignat. Now I'm wondering if it's worth celebrating a birthday at all. I'm afraid that next time I'll meet aliens or summon demons from hell. It's better to just sit at home and watch TV.

–Well, well, don't swear," Ignat smiled. "Maybe next time you'll be able to make friends with a unicorn." Or at least with an Internet troll.

–Unicorns and trolls… I'm afraid to even imagine what it might lead to,– I muttered, finishing my orange juice. Each time the stories became more absurd, I seriously considered consulting with a specialist. – Anyway, after that sewer, I decided to give up alcohol and crazy parties. At least for a while.

A week after…

18.

Ignat, as always, listened with a half-smile. "So you've really become a good guy?"

–Well, almost. I tried. I signed up for meditation classes, started running in the mornings, and even tried

vegetarianism. However, he didn't last long – the bacon

won. You should know how delicious it smells after a week of abstinence," I confessed. – But in general, I was on the path to enlightenment. Until fate intervened in the person of my new neighbor.

Ignat raised an eyebrow. "A neighbor?" And what, he turned out to be some kind of supervillain?

– No, it's worse. He turned out to be… a drummer," I whispered, as if uttering a terrible curse. – And not just a drummer, but a death metal drummer. At three o'clock in the morning. Every day.

Ignat nodded sympathetically. – It sounds like a personal hell.

"Exactly. I tried to talk to him, asking him to moderate his enthusiasm at least a little. But he only replied that

"music is his life" and "art requires sacrifice." My complaints to the police also led to nothing – the noise was within the acceptable level.

19.

I sighed. – Anyway, I decided that I need a plan. An ingenious plan that will allow me to get rid of this drum hell. And then I remembered my new friend. Ignat grinned. "A goblin from the sewers?"

–A goblin from the sewers." And anyway, he has a name,

Breivor, I hope I pronounced it correctly. I thought that he probably had connections in the criminal world of the

Underworld. And who better than goblins to deal with a noisy neighbor? I explained. – I went down to the sewer and told about my problem. He listened to me sympathetically and promised to help.

"And what did he come up with?" Ignat asked, without losing his enthusiasm.

– Breivor said that he knows a rat band. Rats, he says, are very musical animals, especially if they are properly

motivated. And then one night, when the neighbor drummer was particularly upset, I heard… music. No, not death metal. It was a cacophony of squeaks, screeches, and screeching. A rat band performing jazz improvisation on trash cans," I said.

"Rat jazz?" It sounds like the apocalypse," Ignat commented.

20.

– That was the case with my neighbor. The rats surrounded his house and staged a real concert. The drummer ran out

into the street in a rage and tried to disperse them. But the

rats were smarter. They started gnawing on his drums, his car, and even his favorite death metal raincoat," I continued.

– And what happened to the drummer? Ignat asked.

"He moved out the next day. He left behind only a hole in the wall and the smell of rat urine. And I took a huge piece

of cheese to the rat orchestra as a thank you," I replied. – That's the story, Ignat. I think I've got myself into a crime situation after all.

Ignat laughed. – Yeah, you have a talent for attracting trouble! But, frankly, the rat orchestra is brilliant. We will need to take this into account.

"Just remember that you have to pay for rat jazz with cheese,– I warned. – And also… it seems that animal welfare agents are watching me now. They say it's cruel to use rats for musical purposes.

"What are you going to do?" Ignat asked.

– I'll try to negotiate. Maybe I'll offer them rat yoga classes. Or, at the very least, I'll escape into the sewers

and become a citizen of the underworld," I said, sighing. – In general, it's probably time to start another hobby.

Knitting, maybe?

Ignat nodded. "Knitting?" That sounds good. Just imagine:

You're knitting a sweater for a goblin. It's going to be epic! And then my phone rang. I looked at the screen. An unfamiliar number. "Hello?" I replied.

– Hello. It's from the Unicorn Protection Society. We have learned that you… have been in contact with the underworld. And that you were seen in the company of goblins.

I felt cold. The Unicorn Protection Society? How did they know about the sewers?

–Um…I… it's some kind of misunderstanding," I stammered.

"You don't have to lie, mister. We know the truth. And we offer you a choice: either you help us find the missing unicorn… or we'll tell everyone what you were doing in the sewers.

I felt my hands start to shake. The missing unicorn? What kind of nonsense is this?

"What unicorn?" I asked, barely able to keep the tremor out of my voice.

– A unicorn named Rainbow. He disappeared a few days ago. And we suspect that he was abducted by trolls," the voice on the phone replied.

"Trolls?" Why do they need a unicorn? – I asked.

"We don't know. But trolls are treacherous creatures. And they can use the unicorn for their own dark purposes," the voice replied.

–And what do you want from me?" – I asked.

– We want you to help us find the Iris. You are the only one who knows how to get to the underworld. And we are sure that you will be able to help us," the voice replied.

I thought about it. On the one hand, I didn't want to get involved in this crazy story again. On the other hand, I had no choice. The Unicorn Protection Society knew too much.

"Okay,– I said. "I'll help you find the Iris." But with one condition. You will never bother me again. And you'll forget about everything I did in the sewer.

–We agree,– a squeaky voice replied. "I'll meet you at the park tomorrow." At midday.

And the voice went dead.

I looked at Ignat. "I think we're in trouble again,– I said.

"What is it this time?" Ignat asked. "Did the trolls steal the unicorn?"

–Yes,– I replied. "And they're asking me to find him."

Ignat laughed. – That's a twist! The unicorn! The trolls! It seems that the world has finally gone crazy!

"Don't laugh,– I said. – This is serious. If we don't find the Iris, the Unicorn Protection Society will tell everyone about my adventures in the sewers.

Ignat stopped laughing. —Okay, I get it. So tomorrow we're going to look for a unicorn. Well," he sighed, —at least it's

something new. Let's go save the Iris from the clutches of evil trolls. It sounds like a good script for a movie.

And so Ignat and I found ourselves embroiled in another crazy adventure. This time we had to save the unicorn from the

clutches of evil trolls. And I knew it wasn't going to be easy.

After all, since I've been in the sewers, my life has turned into an endless nightmare. And I was afraid that this nightmare would never end.

The morning turned out to be gloomy and rainy, matching my mood. Like a character in a cheap detective story, I was walking to the park where I was supposed to meet with representatives

of the Unicorn Protection Society. I walked under the umbrella, nervously adjusting my collar and feeling both an idiot and doomed.

At the appointed time, a woman was waiting for me at an old oak bench. She was short, dressed in a formal suit, with short hair and thin-rimmed glasses. She was holding a unicorn umbrella in her hand.

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