One cool autumn day, when the leaves on Nikolskaya Street rustled underfoot, as if someone had forgotten to turn off an old record, a bar on Nikolskaya Street
The most diverse characters gathered. Among them, one stood out - the elusive swindler Semyon, known for his talent for getting involved in adventures and getting out of it dry.
That day, inspired by new Western sanctions, Semyon was developing another plan. His idea was simple and brilliant: pretend to be a descendant
Sergei Yesenin, to get a grant for the development of cultural ties. “These bureaucrats will believe anything as long as it sounds good,” thought Semyon, sipping vodka and snacking on herring.
But not everything went smoothly. At the moment when he was ready to implement the plan, a man who looked painfully like Yesenin entered the bar. "Damn you, talking monument!" Semyon cursed when the stranger sat down opposite him and began to talk about how great it would be to open an exhibition dedicated to the poet.
"Oh yeah, the fish of my dreams!" Semyon thought sarcastically, but suggested out loud: "Well, let's join forces! You're the face, I'm the ideas, and voila, it's done!"
However, "Yesenin" was not so simple. He knew about Semyon's reputation and decided to teach him a lesson. "Listen, friend, don't you want to see with your own eyes how it's all done? I know a place here where you can get inspiration right on the spot," he suggested with a sly smile.
Semyon, not used to retreating, agreed. And now they were walking along the wet pavement, discussing the details of the future grandiose project. The wind stirred their hair, as if inviting them to new achievements.
When they reached the small gallery, Semyon realized that he had been fooled again. It was an exhibition of contemporary art, where instead of the expected portraits of Yesenin there were strange installations made of fish and metal. "Well, damn it!" was all he could say, looking at this "art".
"Don't worry, Semyon," Yesenin grinned, "the main thing is that you learned something new. And I, perhaps, will go on and talk about our great poet." And, leaving Semyon to deal with art, he disappeared into the crowd.
Thus ended yet another of Semyon's adventures, leaving him not only without a grant, but also without lunch. And while he stood in the rain, thinking about life, he could only grin at his stupidity and think about new scams.
***
Of course, this is a joke, and there is no real basis for this story - just a little imagination and for the sake of a smile! And if you are interested in real facts and events, we invite you to the excursions of the "Radius" bureau, where real history comes to life!