Memoir of a Russian Punk

33

Eddie-baby afterward takes a circuitous route home, skirting the vehicle maintenance lot and going along the edge of the Russian cemetery just to be sure. He knows that it costs money to call out the militia dog, and that they won't call it and its special militia handler out just for twenty or maybe thirty stolen rubles. But following Kostya's instructions, he scrupulously wanders for a whole hour in order to throw the dog off the scent, and when he finally does reach home, he's terribly sleepy.

Ever since the Perevorachaevs built their room on the balcony, it has been very difficult for Eddie-baby to climb up to his own room. It's a wonder he hasn't broken at least one of their windows with his feet – it would be easy to do – but he still uses their window frame for support, uses it only to reach up with his hand to the frame on his own balcony, but uses it nevertheless.

After fifteen minutes of slipping and muffled swearing, Eddie finally manages to climb up to his room, where he stuffs the stolen coat under the cot and lies down in his sleeping bag. His mother, thank God, has not heard him. She's still quietly asleep in her room.

Already falling asleep, Eddie-baby thinks that the crook-manager will probably use the unsuccessful burglary to write off the loss of thousands of rubles that he has in fact embezzled and squandered himself, and in a couple of days all of Saltovka will be buzzing about the huge sums of money taken in the cafeteria burglary. The bastard!