A selection of texts for memorization for the competition "living classics". Selection of texts for the competition `Living Classics` (prose)
at the choice of a work of art for memorizing a fragment of the work (competition " Live classics»)
It is necessary to choose those works in which there is a dialogue, there is expression, in which the heroes - boys and girls - are most often peers of modern adolescents, therefore their life and fate is close, understandable and interesting to modern schoolchildren.
The works offered are mainly short stories and stories. They carry a great emotional and educational charge to the young reader. The authors of these works are recognized classics of literature for children and youth of the 20th century.
Belov V.I.Mishuk (a tale for Anyuta) / Tuyesok: a book for children and their parents on the literature of the Vologda region. - S. 301 - 312.
K.D. Ushinsky A hunter for fairy tales / Tuyesok: a book for children and their parents on the literature of the Vologda region. - S. 123 -126.
Mikhalkov S. Fairy tales about animals: Moscow, 2009 .- (White gloves, Hare-simulator, Pelican education, Magic word, Exam and others)
Mikhalkov S. Why mice do not offend cats: fables and a fairy tale. - Moscow, 2003.
Black S. Soldier's fairy tales.
Charskaya L. Sibirichka. - Moscow, 2009. - (for example, chapter XIII-Letter ...)
Astafiev. V. Strizhonok Squeak. / Tuyesok: a book for children and their parents on the literature of the Vologda region. - S. 66 - 74.
Carroll L. Alice in Wonderland - Any Edition.
Bulychev K. Pashka-troglodyte: a fantastic story. - Moscow, 1998. - (Alice and her friends in the labyrinths of history).
In the Land of Legends: Legends past centuries in retelling for children. - Moscow, 2004. - S. - 206 - 222. (Pied Piper of Hameln)
Twain M. The Taming of the Bicycle. / Extracurricular reading (for grade 6). - Moscow, 2007 .-- S. 28 - 38.
Voskoboinikov V. Life of wonderful children. - St. Petersburg, 1999. -
(Short stories within the hero narrative):
Alexander the Great. –S.7 - 20
Avicenna - S. 21 - 32. Newton. - p. 33 - 42.
Suvorov. - S. 67 - 78.
Chaplin. - S. 103 - 116.
Edison. - S. 117 - 130.
Einstein. - S. 145 - 154.
Bill Gates. - S. 165 - 173. and others
Works about the Great Patriotic War 1941-1945 for middle school age:
In the series "Library of Courage" collections:
"Russian character"
Sobolev Leonid... Duel. - S. 21 - 26
Polevoy Boris... The last day of Matvey Kuzmin. - S. 27 - 39.
Kassil Lev. Fire portrait. - S. 40 - 48.
Alexey Tolstoy... Russian character. (From the "Stories of Ivan Sudarev") .- pp. 49 - 61. (if not included in the school curriculum)
Lev Kassil. Hold on, captain !: stories about the Great Patriotic War:
Kassil Lev. Hold on, Captain !: stories about the Great Patriotic War. - Yaroslavl, 2003 .-- S. 51 - 62 .-- (Library of courage)
Kassil Lev. The Story of the Absent - Ibid. - S. 5 - 12.
Kassil Lev. Everything will return. - In the same place. - S. 21 - 30.
Kassil Lev. Rimma Lebedeva's marks. - In the same place. - S. 45 - 50.
"Little Soldier":
Polevoy Boris. Private guard. - S. 5 - 24.
Panteleev Leonid. Nayalike. - S. 25 - 42.
Andrey Platonov. Little soldier. - S. 43 - 50.
Lavrenev Boris. Scout Vikhrov. - S. 51 - 62.
Sergey Alekseev
Alekseev S. Battle of Stalingrad 1942 - 1943. - any edition.
Alekseev S. From Moscow to Berlin: Stories about the Great Patriotic War. - Moscow, 2007. - any edition.
Alekseev A. One hundred stories from Russian history. - Moscow, 2005. - any edition.
Anatoly Mityaev .
Mityaev A. Letter from the front: stories about the Great Patriotic War. - any edition:
Guard teddy bear.
Donkey earrings.
Ivan and the Fritzes. And other stories.
The sixth is incomplete.
Night blindness.
Warm "tongue".
Triangular letter.
A bag of oatmeal.
Valentin Kataev
Kataev V. Son of the regiment. - Moscow: Onyx, 2008. - pp. 68 -70, 71 -73 and others.
Ilyina E. The fourth height. - Moscow: AST: Astrel, 2008. - any edition.
The novel gives a broad picture of the socio-political life of Russia. late XIX century. The Russian intelligentsia is one of the main historical problems of our country. Problems in the sense that this social stratum has never been able to find itself, to determine its own ideals. Intellectuals, liberals, terrorists - after reading the novel you will not have any questions why Russian Empire these concepts were synonymous for many.
2. "Uncle Vanya", Anton Chekhov
Gorky wrote to Chekhov after watching the theatrical performance "Uncle Vanya": "" Uncle Vanya "and" The Seagull "are a new kind dramatic art[…]. Other dramas do not distract a person from reality to philosophical generalizations - yours do it. " What can we say, Chekhov's plays are indeed the strongest in Russian literature.
"Uncle Vanya" is in no way inferior to "The Cherry Orchard" or "Three Sisters". But the Ministry of Education for some reason excluded the play from the list of mandatory books, which affected its popularity today. If you decide to familiarize yourself, then keep in mind that the work is heavy and the narrative in it goes in a serious tone unusual for Chekhov.
3. "Red Laughter", Leonid Andreev
"Red laughter" if it is mentioned in literature lessons, it is only in passing. The main attention is paid to another story of the author - "Judas Iscariot". But "Red Laughter" is such a stylistically verified work that goosebumps run down the skin not from the described horrors of war, but from a sonorous rich syllable.
Nobody wrote about the war like that. Nobody else wrote like that. If you want to clearly and clearly find out what the word "style" means in literature, read Andreeva.
4. "Head of Professor Dowell", Alexander Belyaev
Belyaev's work is entertaining in nature. Therefore, probably, his works were not included in school textbooks. However, the ability to entertain while maintaining a great art style is also worth a lot. Let Belyaev now be assessed as a classic of fiction, but we don't always read in order to reflect on the problems of the world, right? Professor Dowell's Head is a fascinating experiment in science fiction literature for its time.
5. Collected Works, Daniil Kharms
Harms - prankster and daredevil Soviet literature... His absurdist prose is devoid of an obvious moralizing message, which is why schoolchildren receive their certificates without having learned anything about the most original Soviet writer. It is quite difficult to single out the central work of Kharms, so we recommend reading the first thing that comes to hand. For example, here is the whole story "New Anatomy":
One little girl had two blue ribbons growing on her nose. The case is especially rare, for one tape was written "Mars", and on the other - "Jupiter".
This novel needs no introduction. Ostap Bender's phrases have long been disassembled into quotes and have become winged. Even if for some reason you did not have a chance to read the legendary novel about the great strategist, you have probably seen one of its many adaptations. However, this is the case when none of the film incarnations can compare with the literary original. It's like Shanghai leopards compared to Mexican jerboas. Infinitely better.
7. "The Living and the Dead", Konstantin Simonov
The trilogy by Konstantin Simonov is dedicated to the Great Patriotic War. It is based on the author's personal experience, and perhaps that is why it turned out to be so inspirational and sincere. This is a chronicle of the events of 1941-1945, presented through the prism of the view of the participants in the war. The work is fundamental, large-scale, with many deeply written images, strong dialogues and storylines. "War and Peace" of the XX century.
It is strange why Soviet science fiction classics are still not included in the school curriculum. Almost every book of theirs is philosophical and raises a wide range of topics. Roadside Picnic is perhaps the most famous work of the authors. The Stalker series of books originates here. The "Zone", even before it became a popular place for the works of literary epigones, was introduced by the Strugatskys as the deepest metaphor. A metaphor that summarizes all human activities and endows it with the universal meaning of the pursuit of happiness.
9. "Razor's Edge", Ivan Efremov
"Razor's Edge" is a novel in which Efremov expressed his entire worldview. Therefore, it is so multifaceted and touches on a huge number of different topics: science, philosophy, mysticism, love, yoga. The writer carried out such a complex work on the synthesis of materialistic, metaphysical and mystical teachings that his book can be considered not only as a work of fiction, but also as a kind of philosophical treatise. It is not surprising that after writing the novel, Efremov acquired the status of a spiritual guru.
10. Novels, Vladimir Nabokov
Why there is no "Lolita" in the school curriculum, we can understand. But why so little time is given to other works of the author like "Defense of Luzhin" or "Invitation to Execution" is a mystery. Nabokov discovered a completely new dimension of the Russian language - one that was unknown to either Pushkin or Tolstoy. His words sound, smell, feel skin and tongue. This is a synesthetic feast of sounds and colors, where topics that are not the most traditional for Russian literature are raised, such as the relationship between the author and his creation, the illusory nature of the world.
11. "Generation" P "", Victor Pelevin
Generation P is a nineties bible. What is the new Russia, what are the values of the nascent world, where are their origins and what is the meaning of the media - Pelevin, of course, digs much deeper than the level of an entertaining story about the adventures of a talented PR specialist Vavilen Tatarsky. The age-old problem "Who lives well in Russia?" is transformed into “What is Russia? What is good? And what, in the end, does it mean to live? "
Ideologically, Pelevin's work is somewhat outdated: there are already other realities in the yard. However, his approach to explaining phenomena, combining postmodern ideas and metaphysics of Indian and Iranian philosophy, is completely unique. Method of analysis discovered by Pelevin social phenomena endows his creation with a timeless meaning.
12. "Boris Pasternak", Dmitry Bykov
The works of this writer cannot be found in the school curriculum for one simple reason: they have not yet had time to get there. Dmitry Bykov is one of the most prominent representatives modern literature... This is a writer classical school with a good sense of language and a desire for extensive disclosure of characters.
"Boris Pasternak" is a biographical work, however, thanks to Bykov's literary talent, it reads like a work of art and gives a textured understanding life path Pasternak.
And what are the books that remained outside school curriculum, do you remember?
Texts for the competition "Living Classics"
"But what if?" Olga Tikhomirova
It rained in the morning. Alyoshka jumped over the puddles and walked quickly - quickly. No, he wasn't late for school at all. He just noticed Tanya Shibanova's blue hat from a distance.
You can't run: you're out of breath. And she might think she was running after her all the way.
Nothing, he will catch up with her anyway. Catch up and say ... Just what to say? More than a week since they quarreled. Or maybe take it and say: "Tanya, let's go to the cinema today?" Or maybe give her a smooth black pebble that he brought from the sea? ...
What if Tanya says: “Take away, Vertisheev, your cobblestone. What do I need him for ?! "
Alyosha slowed down, it was, a step, but, glancing at the blue cap, he hurried again.
Tanya walked calmly and listened to the rustling of cars on the wet pavement. So she looked around and saw Alyoshka, who was just jumping over a puddle.
She walked more quietly, but did not look back. It would be nice if he caught up with her near the front garden. They would have gone together, and Tanya would have asked: "Do you know, Alyosha, why some maples have red leaves, while others have yellow leaves?" Alyoshka will look, look and ... Or maybe he won't look at all, but mutters only: “Read, Shiba, books. Then you will know everything. " After all, they quarreled ...
There was a school around the corner of the big house, and Tanya thought that Alyoshka would not have time to catch up with her. We need to stop. But you can't just get up in the middle of the sidewalk.
In the big house there was a store called Clothes, Tanya went to the window and began to examine the mannequins.
Alyoshka came up and stood beside him ... Tanya looked at him and smiled a little ... "Now he will say something," thought Alyoshka and, in order to get ahead of Tanya, said:
Oh, it's you, Shiba .. Hello ...
Hi, Vertisheev, - she snapped.
Shipilov Andrey Mikhailovich "True story"
Vaska Petukhov came up with such a device, you press the button - and everyone around only begins to speak the truth. Vaska made this device and brought it to school. Marya Ivanovna comes into the classroom and says: - Hello, guys, I'm very glad to see you! And Vaska on the button - one! “And if it’s true,” continues Marya Ivanovna, “then I’m not at all happy, why should I be happy? I'm sick of you worse than a bitter radish in two quarters! You teach you, you teach you, you put your soul into you - and there is no gratitude. Tired of it! I will not stand on ceremony with you anymore. Just a couple!
And at recess, Kosichkina comes up to Vaska and says: - Vaska, let's be friends with you. - Come on, - says Vaska, and he himself on the button - once! - Only I'm not just going to be friends with you, - Kosichkina continues, but with a specific purpose. I know your uncle works at Luzhniki; so when " Ivanushki - international"or Philip Kirkorov will perform again, then you will take me with you to the concert for free.
Vaska felt sad. He walks around school all day, presses a button. Until the button is pressed, everything is fine, but as soon as you press it, it starts! ..
And after lessons - new Year's Eve... Santa Claus enters the hall and says: - Hello, guys, I am Santa Claus! Vaska on a button - one! - Although, - continues Santa Claus, - in fact, I am not Santa Claus at all, but a school watchman Sergei Sergeevich. The school has no money to hire a real artist for the Dadmorozov role, so the director asked me to speak for time off. One performance is half time off. Only, I think I miscalculated, I had to take not half, but a whole day off. What do you guys think?
Vaska felt very bad at heart. Comes home sad, sad. - What happened, Vaska? - asks mom, - you don't have a face at all. - Yes, so, - says Vaska, - nothing special, just disappointment in people overtook me. - Oh, Vaska, - my mother laughed, - how funny you are; how I love you! - Truth? - Vaska asks, - and he himself on the button - One! - Truth! - Mom laughs. - True true? - says Vaska, and he presses the button even harder. - True true! - Mom answers. - Well, then that's what, - says Vaska, - I love you too. Very very!
"The groom from 3 B" Postnikov Valentin
Yesterday afternoon, in math class, I firmly decided that it was time for me to get married. And what? I am already in the third grade, but I still don't have a bride. When, if not now. A couple more years and the train left. Dad often says to me: At your age, people already commanded a regiment. And it is true. But first I must get married. I told my best friend Petka Amosov about this. He sits with me at the same desk.
– You are absolutely right, - said Petka resolutely. - We will choose a bride for you at a big break. From our class.
At recess, we first of all made a list of brides and began to think about whom I should marry.
– Marry Svetka Fedulova, says Petka.
– Why on Svetka? - I was surprised.
– Freak! She's an excellent student, - says Petka. - You will cheat on her all your life.
– No, I say. - Svetka is reluctant. She was a crammer. Lessons will force me to teach. Will dart around the apartment, like a groovy one and whine in a nasty voice: - Learn your lessons, learn your lessons.
– Cross out! - Petka said resolutely.
– Or maybe I should marry Soboleva? I ask.
– On Nastya?
– Well, yes. She lives next to the school. It's convenient for me to see her off, - I say. - Not like Katka Merkulova - she lives behind the railway. If I marry her, why should I drag myself so far away all my life? My mother does not allow me to walk in that area at all.
– That's right, - Petka shook his head. - But Nastya's dad doesn't even have a car. But Masha Kruglova does. A real Mercedes, you will ride it to the movies.
– But Masha is fat.
– Have you ever seen a Mercedes? - asks Petka. - Three Masha will fit in there.
– Yes, that's not the point, - I say. - I don't like Masha.
– Then let's marry you on Olga Bublikova. Her grandmother cooks - you will lick your fingers. Do you remember when Bublikova treated us to grandmother's pies? Oh, and delicious. You won't be lost with such a grandmother. Even in old age.
– Happiness is not in pies, - I say.
– And what is it? - Petka is surprised.
– I would like to marry Varka Koroleva, - I say. - Blimey!
– And what about Varka? - Petka is surprised. - No fives, no Mercedes, no grandmother. What kind of wife is this?
– For that she has beautiful eyes.
– Well, you give it, - Petka laughed. - The most important thing in a wife is a dowry. This is also the great Russian writer Gogol said, I myself heard. And what is this dowry - eyes? Laughter, and nothing more.
– You don’t understand anything, ”I waved my hand. - The eyes are the dowry. The best!
That was the end of it. But I did not change my mind to marry. Know so!
Victor Golyavkin. Unlucky
One day I come home from school. On that day, I just got a deuce. I walk around the room and sing. I sing and sing so that no one would think that I got a deuce. And then they will ask more: "Why are you gloomy, why are you brooding?"
Father says:
- What is he singing like that?
And mom says:
- He's probably in a cheerful mood, so he sings.
Father says:
- Probably got an A, that's fun for a man. It's always fun when you do something good.
As I heard it, I sang even louder.
Then the father says:
- Okay, Vovka, please your father, show the diary.
Then I immediately stopped singing.
- What for? - I ask.
- I see, - says the father, - you really want to show the diary.
He takes the diary from me, sees there a deuce and says:
- Surprisingly, got a deuce and sings! Is he out of his mind? Come on, Vova, come here! Do you, by any chance, have a temperature?
- I have no, - I say, - no temperature ...
The father threw up his hands and said:
- Then you need to be punished for this singing ...
That's how unlucky I am!
Parable "What you have done will come back to you"
In the early twentieth century, a Scottish farmer was returning home and walking past a marshland. Suddenly he heard cries for help. The farmer rushed to the rescue and saw the boy, who was being sucked into its terrible abysses by swamp mud. The boy tried to climb out of the terrible mass of the swamp bog, but his every movement sentenced him to imminent death. The boy screamed. from despair and fear.
The farmer quickly chopped down a fat bitch, careful
approached and held out a saving branch to the drowning man. The boy got out to safety. He was trembling, he could not stop tears for a long time, but the main thing - he was saved!
- Come to my house, - the farmer suggested to him. - You need to calm down, dry up and warm up.
- No, no, - the boy shook his head, - dad is waiting for me. He's very worried, I guess.
Looking gratefully into the eyes of his savior, the boy ran away ...
In the morning, the farmer saw that a rich carriage pulled up by luxurious thoroughbred horses drove up to his house. A richly dressed gentleman got out of the carriage and asked:
- Did you save my son's life yesterday?
- Yes, I am, ”the farmer replied.
- How much do I owe you?
- Do not offend me, lord. You don't owe me anything, because I did what a normal person should have done.
The class froze. Izabella Mikhailovna bent over the magazine and finally said:
- Rogov.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and closed their textbooks. And Rogov went out to the board, scratched himself and for some reason said:
- Look good today, Izabella Mikhailovna!
Izabella Mikhailovna took off her glasses:
- Well, well, Rogov. Get started.
Rogov sniffed and began:
- Your hair is neat! Not like mine.
Izabella Mikhailovna got up and walked over to the world map:
- Haven't you learned your lesson?
- Yes! - Rogov exclaimed with fervor. - I confess! Nothing can be hidden from you! The experience of working with children is colossal!
Izabella Mikhailovna smiled and said:
- Oh, Rogov, Rogov! Show me where Africa is.
“There,” said Rogov and waved his hand out the window.
“Well, sit down,” sighed Isabella Mikhailovna. - Three ...
At recess, Rogov gave interviews to his comrades:
- The main thing is to start this kikimore about eyes ...
Izabella Mikhailovna was just passing by.
- Ah, - Rogov reassured his comrades. - This deaf grouse cannot hear more than two steps.
Izabella Mikhailovna stopped and glanced at Rogov so that Rogov understood that the grouse could hear more than two steps.
The next day Isabella Mikhailovna again called Rogov to the board.
Rogov turned white as a sheet and croaked:
- You called me yesterday!
- And I want more, - said Isabella Mikhailovna and screwed up her eyes.
- Eh, you have such a dazzling smile, - Rogov mumbled and fell silent.
- What else? Isabella Mikhailovna asked dryly.
“You also have a pleasant voice,” Rogov squeezed out of himself.
“So,” said Isabella Mikhailovna. “You haven't learned your lesson.
“You see everything, you know everything,” said Rogov languidly. - And for some reason they went to school, on people like me, ruin your health. You should go to the sea now, write poetry, meet a good man ...
Bowing her head, Isabella Mikhailovna thoughtfully ran a pencil over the paper. Then she sighed and said quietly:
- Well, sit down, Rogov. Troika.
KOTINA KIND Fyodor Abramov
Nikolai K., nicknamed Kotya-glass, was dashing enough in the war. The father is at the front, the mother is dead, and they don’t take them to the orphanage: they have a dear uncle. True, the uncle is disabled, but with a good job (tailor) - what does he need to warm up the orphan?
The uncle, however, did not warm the orphan, and the sonfront-line soldier often fed from the garbage. Gathers up potato peels, cook in a canning roomanke on a small fire by the river, in which sometimes it will be possible to catch some gudgeon, and so he lived.
After the war, Kotya served in the army, built a house, started a family, and then took his uncle to him -that by that time he was completely decrepit, in his nineties
passed.
Uncle Kotya did not refuse anything. What he ate with his family, so his uncle in the cup. And he didn't even take a glass, if when he himself received communion.
- Eat, drink, uncle! I don’t forget my relatives, ”Kotya would say every time.
- Do not forget, do not forget, Mikolayushko.
- Are you offended in terms of food and drink?
- Not offended, not offended.
- Then he saw a helpless old man?
- I got it, I got it.
- But how did you not take me into the war? The newspapers write that other people's children were taken for upbringing, because the war. People's. Do you remember how they sang in the song? "There is a war of the people, a holy war ..." But am I really a stranger to you?
- Oh, oh, the truth is yours, Mikolayushko.
- Don’t ooh! Then I had to groan when I was rummaging in a cesspool ...
Kotya ended the table conversation usually with a tear:
- Well, uncle, uncle, thanks! The dead father would bow to your feet if he returned from the war. After all, he thought, Yevon son, a miserable orphan, under his uncle's wing, and the crow warmed me with its wing more than my uncle. Do you understand this with your old head? After all, moose and those from wolves protect small moose, and you are not a moose. You are a dear uncle ... Eh! ..
And then the old man began to wail out loud. Exactly two months in this way, day after day, Kotya raised his uncle, and in the third month his uncle hanged himself.
Excerpt from the novel Mark Twain "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn"
I closed the door behind me. Then I turned and looked - here he is, dad! I was always afraid of him - he tore me very well. My father was about fifty years old, and apparently no less than that. His hair is long, unkempt and dirty, hanging in braids, and only his eyes shine through them, as if through bushes. There is no blood in the face - it is completely pale; but not as pale as that of other people, but such that it is scary and disgusting to look at - like a fish belly or like a frog. And the clothes are sheer rags, there is nothing to look at. I stood and looked at him, and he looked at me, swaying slightly in his chair. He examined me from head to toe, then says:
- Look how you dressed up - fu-you, well, you! I suppose you think you're an important bird now, is that it?
“Maybe I’m thinking, maybe not,” I say.
- Look, you are not very rude! - Got some foolishness while I was gone! I will quickly deal with you, I will knock you off your arrogance! He, too, has become educated - they say you can read and write. Do you think your father is no match for you now, since he is illiterate? I'll knock it all out of you. Who told you to gain stupid nobility? Tell me, who told you to?
- The widow said.
- Widow? That's how it is! And who allowed the widow to poke her nose into other matters?
- Nobody allowed.
- Okay, I'll show her how to meddle, where she is not asked! And you, look, leave your school. Do you hear? I'll show them! We learned the boy to turn up his nose in front of his own father, he let himself become so important! Well, if only I see you hanging around this very school, stay with me! Your mother could neither read nor write, she was so illiterate and died. And all your relatives died illiterate. I can neither read nor write, but he, look, what a dandy he has dressed up! I'm not the kind of person I am to endure this, do you hear? Come on, read it, I'll listen.
I took the book and started reading something about General Washington and about the war. Less than half a minute later, he grabbed at the book with his fist, and she flew across the room.
- Right. You can read. And I didn't believe you. Look at me, stop asking, I will not tolerate this! Follow
I’ll be you, a dandy, and if I only catch near this very
schools, I’ll lower my skin! I will pour you in - you will not have time to come to your senses! Good son, there is nothing to say!
He picked up a blue and yellow picture of a boy with cows and asked:
- What is this?
- They gave it to me because I study well. He tore the picture and said:
- I'll give you something too: a good belt!
He muttered and grumbled something under his breath for a long time, then said:
- Just think, what a sissy! And his bed, and sheets, and a mirror, and a carpet on the floor - and his own father should be lying in the tannery with the pigs! Good son, there is nothing to say! Well, yes, I will quickly deal with you, I will vybyb all the nonsense! Look, you assumed the importance ...
Earlier I didn’t like to study, but now I decided that
I will certainly go to school, to spite my father.
SWEET WORK Sergey Stepanov
The boys sat at a table in the courtyard and languished with idleness. It’s hot to play football, but it’s a long way to go to the river. And so already two times today.
Dimka came up with a bag of sweets. He gave each of them a candy and said:
- Here you are playing the fool, and I got a job.
- What kind of work?
- Taster at a confectionery factory. Here's a job to take home.
- Are you serious? - the boys got excited.
- Well, you see.
“What’s your job there?”
- I'm trying sweets. How are they made? Pour into a large vat a bag of granulated sugar, a bag of milk powder, then a bucket of cocoa, a bucket of nuts ... And if someone pours an extra kilogram of nuts? Or vice versa...
“Quite the opposite,” someone put in.
- We must, in the end, try what happened. We need a person with good taste. And they themselves cannot eat it. Not what they have - they can no longer look at these sweets! Therefore, they have automatic lines everywhere. And the result is brought to us, the tasters. Well, we will try and say: everything is fine, you can take it to the store. Or: but here it would be nice to add raisins and make a new variety called "Zyu-zyu".
- Wow, great! Dimka, and you ask, do they still need tasters?
- I will ask.
- I would go to the section of chocolates. I am well versed in them.
- And I agree with caramel. Dimka, do they pay wages there?
- No, they only pay with sweets.
- Dimka, let's come up with a new kind of sweets now, and you will offer them tomorrow!
Petrov came up, stood beside him for a while and said:
- Who are you listening to? Did he deceive you a little? Dimka, admit it: you are hanging on your ears!
“You’re always like that, Petrov. You’ll come and ruin everything.” You won't let me dream.
Ivan Yakimov "Strange Procession"
In the fall, on Nastaseya the sheepfold, when they fed the shepherds in the yards - they thanked them for saving the cattle - the ram disappeared from Mitrokha Vanyugin. I looked, I looked for Mitrokh, there is no ram anywhere, even kill it. He began to walk from house to house. I visited five hosts, and then directed my feet to Makrida and Epifan. He comes in, and the whole family is eating fatty mutton soup, only spoons flicker.
Bread and salt, - says Mitrokha, looking sideways at the table.
Come in, Mitrofan Kuzmich, you will be a guest. Sit down soup with us, - invite the owners.
Thanks. Did they kill the ram?
Thank God, they stabbed him, enough for him to save up fat.
And I won’t put my mind to where the ram could have disappeared, ”Mitrokha sighed and after a pause asked:“ Did he come to you by chance?
Or maybe he did, you need to look in the barn.
Or maybe he got under the knife? - the guest narrowed his eyes.
Maybe he got under the knife, - the owner answers, not at all embarrassed.
Don’t joke, Epifan Averyanovich, you’re not in the dark, tea, butchering a ram, you must distinguish your own from someone else's.
Yes, these rams are all gray, like wolves, who can take them apart, Macrida said.
See the skin. I recognize my ram in a row.
The owner carries the skin.
Well, exactly, my ram! - rushed from the bench Mitrokh. - There is a black spot on the back, and on the tail, look, the hair is singed: Manyokha is blind, she burned it with a torch when she gave it to drink. - Well it turns outrowing in the middle of the day?
Sorry, Kuzmich, not on purpose. At the very door, he stood beside himself, who knew he was yours, ”the owners shrug.“ Don't tell anyone, for God's sake. Take our ram and the business is over.
No, not the end! - jumped Mitrokha. - Your ram is wretched, a lamb against mine. Turn my ram!
How can you get it back if it's half eaten? - the owners are perplexed.
Rotate everything that is left, pay for the rest of the money.
An hour later, a strange procession was moving from the house of Makrida and Epiphanes to the house of Mitrokha in front of the whole village .. Ahead of them, falling on his right leg, Epiphanes with a lamb skin under his armpit, followed him importantly by Mitrokha with a bag of mutton on his shoulder, and Makrida closed the procession ... She minced with cast iron in her outstretched arms - carrying half-eaten soup from Mitrokhin's ram. The ram, although disassembled, returned to the owner again.
Bobik visiting Barbos N. Nosov
Bobik saw a scallop on the table and asked:
What kind of saw you have?
What a saw! This is a scallop.
And what is he for?
Oh you! - said Watchdog. - It is immediately clear that he lived in a kennel for the whole century. Do you know what a scallop is for? Comb your hair.
How does it feel to comb your hair?
The watchdog took the comb and began to comb the hair on his head:
Here's how to comb your hair. Go to the mirror and brush your hair.
Bobik took the comb, went to the mirror and saw his reflection in it.
Listen, - he shouted, pointing to the mirror, - there is some kind of dog!
Why, it's you yourself in the mirror! - Watchdog laughed.
Like me? I’m here, and there’s another dog. Watchdog also went to the mirror. Bobik saw his reflection and shouted:
Well, now there are two of them!
Well no! - said Watchdog. - These are not two of them, but two of us. They are there in the mirror, lifeless.
How are they dead? - Bobby shouted. - They're moving!
What a weirdo! - answered Watchdog. - We are moving. You see, there is one dog that looks like me! - That's right, it looks like! - Bobby was delighted. Just like you!
And the other dog looks like you.
What you! - answered Bobby. - There is some nasty dog, and its paws are crooked.
The same paws as yours.
No, you are deceiving me! I put some two dogs there and you think I'll believe you, - said Bobby.
He began to comb his hair in front of the mirror, then suddenly he laughs:
Look, this weirdo in the mirror is combing his hair too! What a scream!
Watchdogonlysnorted and stepped aside.
Victor Dragunsky "Topsy-turvy"
Once I sat, sat and for no apparent reason suddenly thought of such a thing that I was even surprised myself. I figured out how nice it would be if everything around in the world were arranged the other way around. Well, for example, in order for children to be the main things in all matters, and adults would have to obey them in everything, in everything. In general, so that adults are like children, and children are like adults. That would be great, it would be very interesting.
Firstly, I imagine how my mother would “like” such a story, that I walk around and command it as I want, and dad would also “like it”, but there is nothing to say about my grandmother. Needless to say, I would have remembered everything to them! For example, my mother would sit at lunch, and I would tell her:
“Why did you start a fashion without bread? Here's more news! Look at yourself in the mirror, who do you look like? Poured Koschey! Eat now, they tell you! - And she would eat with her head down, and I would only give the command: - Faster! Do not hold it by the cheek! Thinking again? Are you solving world problems? Chew it well! And don't sway in your chair! "
And then dad would come in after work, and he would not even have time to undress, and I would have shouted:
“Aha, he came! We must wait for you forever! My hands now! As it should, as it should be mine, there is no need to smear the dirt. It's scary to look at the towel after you. Brush three and do not spare the soap. Come on, show your nails! This is horror, not nails. They're just claws! Where are the scissors? Don't twitch! I do not cut with any meat, but I cut it very carefully. Don't sniffle, you're not a girl ... That's it. Now sit down at the table. "
He would sit down and quietly tell his mother:
"Well, how are you?"
And she would also say quietly:
"Nothing, thanks!"
And I would immediately:
“Conversations at the table! When I eat, I am deaf and dumb! Remember this for the rest of your life. Golden Rule! Dad! Put down the newspaper now, you are my punishment! "
And they would sit like silk with me, and when my grandmother came, I would squint, clasp my hands and shout:
"Dad! Mama! Admire our granny! What is the view! The coat is open, the hat is on the back of the head! The cheeks are red, the whole neck is wet! Nice, there is nothing to say. Admit it, I played hockey again! And what is this dirty stick? Why did you bring her into the house? What? It's a hockey stick! Get her out of my eyes now - to the back door! "
Then I would walk around the room and tell them all three:
"After lunch, all sit down for lessons, and I'll go to the cinema!"
Of course, they would immediately whine and whine:
“And we are with you! And we also want to go to the cinema! "
And I would:
“Nothing, nothing! Yesterday we went to your birthday, on Sunday I took you to the circus! Look! Enjoyed the fun every day. Sit at home! Here's thirty kopecks for ice cream, that's all! "
Then the grandmother would have prayed:
“Take me at least! After all, every child can take one adult with him for free! "
But I would dodge, I would say:
“And people after seventy years of age are not allowed to enter this picture. Stay at home, gulena! "
And I would have walked past them, deliberately tapping loudly with my heels, as if I did not notice that their eyes were all wet, and I would start getting dressed, and spin in front of the mirror for a long time, and hum, and this would make them even worse tormented, but I would open the door to the stairs and say ...
But I didn’t have time to think of what I would say, because at that time my mother came in, the most real, alive, and said:
- You are still sitting. Eat now, see who you look like? Poured Koschey!
Gianni RodariQuestions inside out
Once upon a time there was a boy who all day long did nothing but pester everyone with questions. In this, of course, there is nothing wrong, on the contrary, curiosity is a commendable thing. But the trouble is that no one was able to answer this boy's questions.
For example, he comes one day and asks:
- Why do the boxes have a table?
Of course, people only opened their eyes in surprise or, just in case, answered:
- Boxes are used to put something in them. Well, let's say dining utensils.
“I know what the boxes are for. But why do the drawers have tables?
People shook their heads and hurried to leave. Another time he asked:
- Why does the tail have a fish?
Or more:
- Why does a mustache have a cat?
People shrugged their shoulders and rushed to leave, because everyone had their own business.
The boy was growing up, but he still remained why, and not simple, but why inside out. Even as an adult, he walked around and pestered everyone with questions. It goes without saying that no one, not a single person, could answer them. Completely desperate, why little man went inside out to the top of the mountain, built himself a hut, and invented more and more new questions there at large. He thought up, wrote them down in a notebook, and then racked his brains, trying to find an answer. However, he never answered any of his questions in his life.
And how could he answer, if in his notebook it was written: "Why does the shadow have a pine tree?" "Why aren't the clouds writing letters?" "Why don't postage stamps drink beer?" From the tension he started having headaches, but he did not pay attention to it and kept inventing and inventing his endless questions. Little by little, he had grown a long beard, but he did not even think about cutting it. Instead, he came up with a new question: "Why does a beard have a face?"
In a word, he was an eccentric, which is not enough. When he died, a scientist began to investigate his life and made an amazing scientific discovery... It turned out that this little man from childhood was used to putting on stockings inside out and wearing them like that all his life. He had never been able to put them on properly. Therefore, until his death, he could not learn to ask the right questions.
And look at your stockings, did you put them on correctly?
SENSITIVE COLONEL O. Henry
The sun is shining brightly and the birds are singing merrily on the branches. Peace and harmony are spread throughout nature. At the entrance to a small suburban hotel a newcomer sits and, quietly smoking a pipe, is waiting for the train.
But then a tall man in boots and a hat with wide brims drooping down comes out of the hotel with a six-round revolver in his hand and shoots. The man on the bench rolls down with a loud yell. The bullet scratched his ear. He leaps to his feet in amazement and rage and yells:
- Why are you shooting at me?
A tall man approaches with a wide-brimmed hat in his hand, bows and says:
- P "oshu p" osseniya, se ". I am Colonel Jay, se", it seemed to me that you osco "fucking me, se", but I see that I was mistaken. Very "hell that didn't kill you, sir".
- I insult you - with what? - breaks out from the visitor. - I didn't say a single word.
- You knocked on the bench, sir ", as if you wanted to say that you are a woodpecker,
se ", and I - p" and belong to d "uguy by" ode. I see now that you are n 'osto
beating the ashes out of your "ubka, se". P "oshu you have n" sensation, se ", and also that you go and de" zeros with me for a glass, se ", in order to show that you have no sediment on your soul n" from a gentleman who is "n "I apologize to you, sir."
"MONUMENT OF SWEET CHILDHOOD" O. Henry
He was old and weak, and the sand in the hours of his life was almost gone. He
walked with irregular strides along one of Houston's most fashionable streets.
He left the city twenty years ago, when the latter was little more than a village dragging out a half-impoverished existence, and now, tired of wandering around the world and full of an agonizing desire to look again at the places where his childhood passed, he returned and found that a bustling business city had grown on the site of the home of his ancestors.
He searched in vain for some familiar object that could remind him of days gone by. Everything has changed. There,
where his father's hut stood, the walls of a slender skyscraper towered; the wasteland where he played as a child was built up with modern buildings. On both sides were magnificent lawns that ran up to the luxurious mansions.
Suddenly, with a cry of joy, he lunged forward with renewed vigor. He saw in front of him - untouched by the hand of a man and unchanged by time - an old familiar object around which he ran and played as a child.
He stretched out his arms and rushed towards him with a deep sigh of contentment.
He was later found sleeping with a quiet smile on his face on an old rubbish heap in the middle of the street - the only monument to his sweet childhood!
Eduard Uspensky "Spring in Prostokvashino"
Once a parcel arrived to Uncle Fedor in Prostokvashino, and there was a letter in it:
“Dear Uncle Fyodor! Your beloved aunt Tamara, a former colonel of the Red Army, is writing to you. It's time for you to start farming - both for education and for the harvest.
Carrots should be planted at attention. Cabbage - in a line after one.
Pumpkin - on command "at ease". It is desirable near an old dump. The pumpkin will "suck out" the entire trash and become huge. The sunflower grows well away from the fence so that the neighbors do not eat it. Tomatoes should be planted leaning against sticks. Cucumbers and garlic require constant fertilization.
I read it all in the charter of the agricultural service.
I bought seeds in glasses at the market and poured everything into one bag. But you will figure it out on the spot.
Do not get carried away by gigantism. Remember the tragic fate of Comrade Michurin, who died falling from a cucumber.
Everything. We kiss you with the whole family. "
Uncle Fyodor was horrified by such a package.
He selected a few seeds for himself, which he knew well. He planted sunflower seeds in a sunny place. I planted pumpkin seeds near the trash heap. And that's all. Soon everything grew tasty, fresh, like in a textbook.
Marina Druzhinina. CALL YOU WILL SING!
On Sunday we drank tea and jam and listened to the radio. As always at this time, the radio listeners on the air congratulated their friends, relatives, bosses on their birthday, wedding day or something else significant; told how wonderful they were, and asked them to perform for these wonderful people good songs.
- One more call! - the announcer proclaimed once again gleefully. - Hello! We are listening to you! Whom are we going to congratulate?
And then ... I couldn't believe my ears! The voice of my classmate Vladyka rang out:
- This is Vladislav Nikolayevich Gusev speaking! Congratulations to Vladimir Petrovich Ruchkin, 6th grade student "B"! He got an A in math! First in this quarter! And in general the first! Pass the best song for him!
- Great congratulations! - the announcer admired. - We join these warm words and wish dear Vladimir Petrovich, so that the aforementioned five was not the last in his life! And now - "Twice two - four"!
The music started playing, and I almost choked on my tea. It's no joke - they sing a song in my honor! After all, Ruchkin is me! Moreover, Vladimir! And even Petrovich! And in general, in the sixth "B" I study! Everything matches! Everything except the top five. I didn't get any A's. Never. And in my diary I had something exactly the opposite.
- Vovka! Did you get the top five ?! - Mom jumped out from the table and rushed to hug and kiss me. - Finally! I dreamed about it so much! Why were you silent? How humble! And Vladik is a real friend! How happy for you! Even congratulated on the radio! Five must be celebrated! I'll bake something delicious! - Mom immediately kneaded the dough and began to sculpt pies, humming merrily: "Twice two - four, twice two - four."
I wanted to shout that Vladik is not a friend, but a bastard! Everything is lying! There was no five! But the language did not turn at all. No matter how hard I tried. Mom was very happy. I never thought that my mother's joy has such an effect on my tongue!
- Well done, son! - Dad waved the newspaper. - Show me the five!
- We have collected diaries, - I lied. - Maybe tomorrow they will distribute, or the day after tomorrow ...
- OK! When they are distributed, then we will admire! And let's go to the circus! And now I'm running off to get some ice cream for all of us! - Dad ran away like a whirlwind, and I rushed into the room, to the phone.
Vladik answered the phone.
- Hey! chuckles. - Did you listen to the radio?
- Are you completely crazy? I hissed. - Parents lost their heads here because of your stupid jokes! And to me to disentangle! Where can I get them an A?
- How is it where? - Vladik answered seriously. - Tomorrow at school. Come to me right now to do your homework.
Gritting my teeth, I went to Vladik. What else was left for me? ..
In general, for two whole hours we solved examples, problems ... And all this instead of my favorite thriller "Cannibal Watermelons"! Nightmare! Well, Vladyka, wait a minute!
The next day, at a mathematics lesson, Alevtina Vasilievna asked:
- Who wants to do homework at the blackboard?
Vladik poked me in the side. I gasped and raised my hand.
First time in life.
- Ruchkin? - Alevtina Vasilievna was surprised. - Well, you are welcome!
And then ... Then a miracle happened. I decided and explained everything correctly. And in my diary, a proud five glowed! Honestly, I had no idea that getting A's was so nice! Who does not believe, let him try ...
On Sunday we, as always, drank tea and listened
the program "Call, they will sing to you." Suddenly, the radio began to mumble again in Vladkin's voice:
- Congratulations to Vladimir Petrovich Ruchkin from the sixth "B" with an A in Russian! Please pass on the best song for him!
What-oh-oh-oh ?! Only the Russian language was not enough for me yet! I shuddered and looked at my mother with desperate hope - maybe I didn't hear. But her eyes were shining.
- What a clever girl you are! - Mama exclaimed happily smiling.
Marina Druzhinina story "Horoscope"
The teacher sighed and opened the magazine.
Well, "dare, now emboldened"! Or rather, Ruchkin! Please list the birds that live on the edges of the forest, in open places.
That's the number! I never expected this! Why me? I shouldn't be called today! The horoscope promised "to all Sagittarius, and therefore to me, incredible luck, unrestrained fun and a rapid rise in the career ladder."
Maria Nikolaevna may change her mind, but she looked at me expectantly. I had to get up.
Only here's what to say - I had no idea, because I did not teach the lessons - I believed the horoscope.
Oatmeal! - Redkin whispered in my back.
Oatmeal! - I repeated mechanically, not trusting Petka too much.
Right! - the teacher was delighted. - There is such a bird! Come on!
“Well done Redkin! Correctly suggested! All the same, I have a lucky day! The horoscope did not disappoint! " - joyfully flashed through my head, and I, without any doubt, in one breath blurted out after the saving Petkin's whisper:
Millet! Semolina! Buckwheat! Pearl barley!
An explosion of laughter drowned out the "pearl barley". And Maria Nikolaevna shook her head reproachfully:
Ruchkin, you are probably very fond of porridge. But what does the bird have to do with it? Sit down! "Two"!
I was downright boiled with indignation. I showed
Redkin fist and began to think how to take revenge on him. But retribution immediately overtook the villain without my participation.
Redkin, go to the board! ”Ordered Maria Nikolaevna. - You, it seems, whispered something to Ruchkin also about dumplings, okroshka. These are also, in your opinion, birds of open places?
No! ”Petka grinned. - I was joking.
It is wrong to suggest - vile! It's much worse than not learning a lesson! - the teacher was indignant. - I'll have to talk to your mom. Now name the birds - relatives of the crow.
There was silence. Redkin was clearly not in the know.
Vladik Gusev felt sorry for Petka, and he whispered:
Rook, jackdaw, magpie, jay ...
But Redkin, apparently, decided that Vladik was taking revenge on him for his friend, that is, for me, and was suggesting incorrectly. After all, everyone judges for himself - I read about this in the newspaper ... In general, Redkin waved his hand to Vladik: they say, shut up, and announced:
The crow, like any other bird, has a lot of relatives. This is mom, dad, grandmother - an old crow, - grandfather ...
Here we just howled with laughter and fell under the desks. Needless to say, the unbridled fun was a success! Even a deuce did not spoil the mood!
It's all?! Maria Nikolaevna asked menacingly.
No, not everything! - Petka did not calm down. - The crow still has aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers, nephews ...
Enough! - shouted the teacher. - "Two" And so that tomorrow all your relatives come to school! Oh, what am I saying! ... Parents!
(Martynov Alyosha)
1.Viktor Golyavkin. As I sat under the desk (Volikov Zakhar)
Only the teacher turned to the blackboard, and I once - and under the desk. As the teacher will notice that I have disappeared, he will probably be terribly surprised.
I wonder what he thinks? He will ask everyone where I have gone - that will be a laugh! Already half a lesson has passed, and I'm still sitting. “When,” I think, “will he see that I’m not in class?” And it's hard to sit under a desk. My back ached even. Just try to sit like this! I coughed - no attention. I can’t sit any longer. Moreover, Seryozhka pokes me in the back with his foot all the time. I could not stand it. Didn't sit until the end of the lesson. I get out and say: - Sorry, Pyotr Petrovich ...
The teacher asks:
- What's the matter? Do you want to go to the board?
- No, excuse me, I was sitting under the desk ...
- Well, how is it comfortable to sit there, under the desk? You sat very still today. That's how it would always be in the classroom.
3. The story "Find" by M. Zoshchenko
Once Lelya and I took a box of chocolates and put a frog and a spider in it.
Then we wrapped this box in clean paper, tied it with a chic blue ribbon and put this bag on a panel opposite our garden. As if someone was walking and lost their purchase.
Putting this package near the curbstone, Lelya and I hid in the bushes of our garden and, choking with laughter, began to wait for what would happen.
And here comes a passer-by.
Seeing our package, he, of course, stops, rejoices, and even rubs his hands with pleasure. Still: he found a box of chocolates - this is not so often in this world.
With bated breath, Lelya and I are looking at what will happen next.
The passer-by bent down, took the package, quickly untied it and, seeing the beautiful box, was even more delighted.
And now the lid is open. And our frog, bored of sitting in the dark, jumps out of the box right onto the hand of a passer-by.
He gasps in surprise and tosses the box away from him.
Here Lelya and I began to laugh so hard that we fell on the grass.
And we laughed so loudly that the passer-by turned in our direction and, seeing us behind the fence, immediately understood everything.
In an instant, he rushed to the fence, jumped over it in one fell swoop and rushed to us to teach us a lesson.
Lelya and I asked a snitch.
We screeched across the garden to the house.
But I stumbled over the garden bed and stretched out on the grass.
And then a passerby tore off my ear quite hard.
I screamed loudly. But the passer-by, giving me two more flip-flops, calmly left the garden.
Our parents came running to the scream and noise.
Holding my reddened ear and sobbing, I went up to my parents and complained to them about what had happened.
My mother wanted to call a janitor to catch up with a passerby and arrest him with the janitor.
And Lelya had already rushed after the janitor. But dad stopped her. And he said to her and my mother:
- Don't call the janitor. And there is no need to arrest a passer-by. Of course, it's not the case that he tore off Minka by the ears, but if I were a passer-by, I probably would have done the same.
Hearing these words, mom got angry with dad and said to him:
- You are a terrible selfish!
And Lelya and I were also angry with dad and did not say anything to him. I just rubbed my ear and cried. And Lelka whimpered too. And then my mom, taking me in her arms, said to dad:
- Instead of interceding for a passer-by and thus bringing the children to tears, you would better explain to them what is wrong with what they have done. Personally, I do not see this and I regard everything as innocent child's play.
And dad could not find an answer. He only said:
- Now children grow up big and someday they themselves will find out why this is bad.
4.
BOTTLE
Just now on the street some young boy broke a bottle.
Something he was carrying. I do not know. Kerosene or gasoline. Or maybe lemonade. In a word, some kind of soft drink. Time is hot. I feel thirsty.
So, this guy walked, gape and knocked the bottle onto the sidewalk.
And such, you know, dullness. There is no way to shake the pieces off the sidewalk with your foot. No! Broke, damn it, and went on. And other passers-by, therefore, walk on these fragments. Very nice.
I then deliberately sat down on the chimney at the gate, I see what will happen next.
I see people walking on glass. Curses, but walks. And such, you know, dullness. Not a single person finds a public duty to fulfill.
Well, what is it worth? Well, I would take it to stop for a couple of seconds and shake the fragments off the sidewalk with the same cap. So no, they are walking by.
“No, I think they are cute! We still do not understand social tasks. Let's go through the glass. "
And then, I see, some guys stopped.
- Oh, they say, it's a pity that there aren't many barefoot people today. And then, they say, that would be great to run into.
And suddenly a man walks.
A completely simple, proletarian-looking man.
This man stops around this broken bottle. Shakes her sweet head. Grunting, he bends down and sweeps the pieces aside with a newspaper.
“That, I think, is great! In vain I grieved. The consciousness of the masses has not yet cooled down. "
And suddenly a policeman comes up to this gray, common man and scolds him:
- What are you, he says, a chicken head? I ordered you to take away the fragments, and you pour it aside? Since you are the janitor of this house, then you must free your area from your extra glasses.
The janitor, muttering something to himself, went into the yard and a minute later appeared again with a broom and a tin spatula. And he began to clean up.
And for a long time, until they drove me away, I sat on the pedestal and thought about all the nonsense.
And you know, perhaps the most surprising thing in this story is that the policeman ordered to clean up the windows.
I was walking down the street ... I was stopped by a beggar, decrepit old man.
Sore, tearful eyes, blue lips, rough rags, unclean wounds ... Oh, how hideously poverty has devoured this unfortunate creature!
He held out to me a red, swollen, dirty hand ... He moaned, he bellowed for help.
I began to fumble in all my pockets ... Not a wallet, not a watch, not even a scarf ... I took nothing with me.
And the beggar waited ... and his outstretched hand swayed and trembled weakly.
Lost, embarrassed, I firmly shook this dirty, trembling hand ...
- Do not seek, brother; I have nothing, brother.
The beggar fixed his sore eyes at me; his blue lips grinned - and he, in turn, squeezed my cold fingers.
- Well, brother, - he mumbled, - and thanks for that. This is alms too, brother.
I realized that I too had received a donation from my brother.
12.Twark Man's Goat Story
We left early in the morning. Fofan and I were seated in the back seat and we began to look out the window.
Dad drove carefully, did not overtake anyone and told Fofan and me about the rules road traffic... Not about how and where you have to cross the road so that you don't get run over. And about how to go so as not to run over anyone.
You see, the tram stopped - dad said. “And we have to stop to let the passengers pass. And now, when they have passed, you can get under way. But this sign means that the road will narrow and instead of three lanes, only two will remain. Let's look to the right, to the left, and if there is no one, we will rebuild.
Fofan and I listened, looked out the window and I felt my legs and arms move by themselves. As if it was me and not my dad who were driving.
Pa! - I said. - Will you teach Fofan and me to drive a car?
Dad was silent for a little.
Actually, this is an adult business - he said. - If you grow up a little and then be sure.
We began to drive up to the bend.
But this yellow square gives us the right to pass first. - Dad said. - The main road. There is no traffic light. Therefore, we show the turn and ...
He did not have time to leave until the end. On the left there was a roar of an engine and a black "ten" swept past our car. She twisted back and forth twice, creaked with the brakes, blocked our way and stopped. A young guy in a blue uniform jumped out of it and walked quickly towards us.
Did you break something ?! - scared my mother. - Will you be fined now?
Yellow square - Dad said in confusion. - The main road. I didn't break anything! Maybe he wants to ask something?
Dad lowered the glass, and the guy almost ran to the door. He bent down and I saw that his face was angry. Or not, not even evil. He looked at us as if we were the biggest enemies in his life.
What are you doing, asshole !? he yelled so loudly that Fofan and I shuddered. - You threw me into the oncoming lane! Well, goat! Who taught you to ride like that? Who am I asking? They'll put, damn it, behind the wheel of goats! It's a pity, I'm not on duty today, I would have written you out! What are you staring at?
All four of us silently looked at him, and he kept yelling and yelling through the word repeating "goat". Then he spat on the wheel of our car and went to his "top ten". DPS was written on his back in yellow letters.
The black "ten" screeched its wheels, jerked off like a rocket and sped away.
We sat for a while in silence.
Who is that? Mom asked. - Why is he so nervous?
Fool Because Absolutely - I answered. - DPS. And he was nervous because he was driving fast and almost crashed into us. It's his own fault. We drove right.
My brother was also yelled at last week, ”Fofan said. - And the traffic police is a road patrol service.
He himself is to blame and yelled at us? - said my mother. - Then it's not DPS. This is HAM.
How does this translate? I asked.
No way - my mother answered. - Ham, he is a boor.
Dad started the car and we drove on.
Got upset? Mom asked. - Do not. You were driving the right way, right?
Yes, my dad replied.
Well, forget it, my mother said. - You never know boors in the world. Whether in form or without form. Well, the parents saved on raising him. So this is their problem. He's probably yelling at them as well.
Yes - dad answered again.
Then he fell silent and did not say another word all the way to the dacha.
13.V. Suslov "BIT"
A sixth-grader stepped on an eighth-grader's foot.
By chance.
In the dining room for pies without a queue, he climbed - and stepped on.
And got a slap on the head.
The sixth grader jumped to a safe distance and said:
- Dilda!
A sixth grader was upset. And I forgot about the pies. I went out of the dining room.
I met a fifth-grader in the corridor. I gave him a slap on the head - it became easier. Because if they gave you a slap on the head, and you can't give it to anyone, then it's really very insulting.
- Strong, huh? - the fifth grader frowned. And he stomped in the other direction along the corridor.
I walked past the ninth grader. I followed the seventh grader. Met a boy from the fourth grade.
And gave him a slap on the head. For the same reason.
Further, as you yourself might guess, according to the ancient proverb "there is strength - no mind is needed", a third grader received a slap on the head. And he also did not keep it with him - he weighed a second grader.
And why would a second grader get a slap on the head? To nothing at all. He sniffed and ran to look for the first grader. Whom else? Do not give elders a slap on the head!
I feel sorry for the first grader most of all. He has a hopeless situation: he can't run from school to Kindergarten fight!
The first grader became thoughtful from the slap on the head.
Dad met him at home.
Asks:
- Well, what did our first grader get today?
- Yes, - he answers, - I got a slap on the head. And no marks were put.
(Krasavin)
Anton Pavlovich ChekhovCUSTOMERS
A couple of newly married spouses strolled back and forth on the dacha platform. He held her by the waist, and she pressed against him, and both were happy. Because of the cloudy scraps, the moon looked at them and frowned: she was probably jealous and annoyed at her boring, useless virginity. The still air was thickly saturated with the smell of lilac and bird cherry. Somewhere, on the other side of the rails, a corncrake was shouting ...
- How good, Sasha, how good! - said the wife. - Really, you might think that all this is dreaming. Look how cozy and affectionate this forest looks! How lovely these solid, silent telegraph poles are! They, Sasha, enliven the landscape and say that out there, somewhere, there are people ... civilization ... But don't you like it when the wind weakly carries the noise of a passing train to your ears?
- Yes ... What, however, your hands are hot! This is because you are worried, Varya ... What did we have for dinner today?
- Okroshka and chicken ... Chicken is enough for two of us. They brought you sardines and balyk from the city.
The moon, as if sniffing tobacco, hid behind a cloud. Human happiness reminded her of her loneliness, lonely bed behind the forests and valleys ...
“The train is coming!” Said Varya. - How good!
Three fiery eyes appeared in the distance. The head of the station walked out onto the platform. Signal lights flashed here and there on the tracks.
- Let's see the train and go home, - said Sasha and yawned.
The dark monster silently crept up to the platform and stopped. Sleepy faces, hats, shoulders flashed in the half-lit carriage windows ...
- Ah! Oh! - I heard from one car. - Varya and her husband came out to meet us! Here they are! Varenka! .. Varechka! Oh!
Two girls jumped out of the carriage and hung around Varya's neck. Behind them appeared a plump, elderly lady and a tall, skinny gentleman with gray cisterns, then two schoolboys loaded with luggage, a governess behind the schoolboys, and a grandmother behind the governess.
- And here we are, and here we are, my friend! - began the gentleman with the tanks, shaking Sasha's hand. - Tea, I was waiting! I suppose he scolded my uncle for not going! Kolya, Kostya, Nina, Fifa ... children! Kiss your cousin Sasha! All to you, all the brood, and for three, four days. Hope not shy? You, please, without ceremony.
Seeing the uncle with the family, the couple were horrified. While his uncle was talking and kissing, a picture flashed through Sasha's imagination: he and his wife were giving guests their three rooms, pillows, blankets; balyk, sardines and okroshka are eaten in one second, cousins pick flowers, spill ink, make noise, auntie talks for days about her illness (tapeworm and pain in the stomach) and that she is a born Baroness von Fintich ...
And Sasha was already looking at his young wife with hatred and whispering to her:
- They came to you ... devil take them!
- No, to you! - She answered, pale, also with hatred and malice. - These are not mine, but your relatives!
And turning to the guests, she said with a friendly smile:
- Welcome!
The moon came out from behind the cloud again. She seemed to be smiling; she seemed pleased that she had no relatives. And Sasha turned away to hide his angry, desperate face from the guests, and said, giving his voice a joyful, complacent expression: - You are welcome! Welcome, dear guests!
Victor DRAGUNSKY
Glory to Ivan Kozlovsky
I have only fives in my report card. Only a four in calligraphy. Because of the blots. I just don't know what to do! Blots always come off my pen. I already dip only the very tip of the pen into ink, but the blots still fall off. Just some miracles! Once I wrote a whole page cleanly, it’s expensive to watch a real five page. In the morning he showed it to Raisa Ivanovna, and there, in the very middle of the blot! Where did it come from? She was not there yesterday! Maybe it leaked from some other page? Do not know...
And so I have only fives. Only by singing a troika. This is how it happened. We had a singing lesson. At first we all sang in chorus "There was a birch tree in the field." It came out very beautifully, but Boris Sergeevich frowned and shouted all the time:
Pull vowels, friends, pull vowels! ..
Then we began to draw vowels, but Boris Sergeevich clapped his hands and said:
A real cat concert! Let's deal with each individually.
This means with each separately.
And Boris Sergeevich called Mishka.
Mishka went up to the piano and whispered something to Boris Sergeevich.
Then Boris Sergeevich began to play, and Mishka quietly began to sing:
As on thin ice
White snow fell ...
Well, Mishka squeaked funny! This is how our kitten Murzik squeaks. Is that how they sing! Almost nothing is heard. I just couldn't stand it and laughed.
Then Boris Sergeevich gave Mishka an A and looked at me.
He said:
Come on, laughing gull, come out!
I quickly ran to the piano.
Well, what will you perform? Boris Sergeevich asked politely.
I said:
Song of the Civil War "Lead Well, Budyonny, we are bolder into battle".
Boris Sergeevich shook his head and began to play, but I immediately stopped him:
Please play louder! I said.
Boris Sergeevich said:
You won't be heard.
But I said:
Will. And how!
Boris Sergeevich began to play, and I took in more air and how to sing:
High in the clear sky
The scarlet banner is twisting ...
I really like this song.
So I can see the blue-blue sky, it's hot, the horses are clattering their hooves, they have beautiful purple eyes, and a scarlet banner is hovering in the sky.
Then I even closed my eyes with delight and shouted as best I could:
We ride horses there,
Where the enemy is visible!
And in a ravishing battle ...
I sang well, probably even heard on another street:
A rapid avalanche! We are rushing forward! .. Hurray! ..
The Reds always win! Retreat, enemies! Give !!!
I pressed my fists on my stomach, it came out even louder, and I almost burst:
We crashed into the Crimea!
Then I stopped because I was all sweaty and my knees were shaking.
And Boris Sergeevich, although he was playing, somehow leaned towards the piano, and his shoulders were shaking too ...
I said:
How is it?
Monstrous! praised Boris Sergeevich.
Good song, truth? I asked.
Good, said Boris Sergeevich and closed his eyes with a handkerchief.
It's just a pity that you played very quietly, Boris Sergeevich, I said, it could be even louder.
Okay, I'll take it into account, said Boris Sergeevich. And you didn’t notice that I was playing one thing, and you sang a little differently!
No, I said, I didn't notice it! It doesn't matter. I just had to play louder.
Well, said Boris Sergeevich, since you haven't noticed anything, we'll give you a three for now. For diligence.
How is the top three? I was even taken aback. How can this be? Three is very small! The bear sang softly and then got an A ... I said:
Boris Sergeevich, when I have a little rest, I can even louder, you do not think. I had a bad breakfast today. Otherwise I can sing in such a way that it will put everyone's ears on the line. I know one more song. When I sing it at home, all the neighbors come running and ask what happened.
What is this? asked Boris Sergeevich.
Pitying, I said and started:
I loved you...
Love still, maybe ...
But Boris Sergeevich hastily said:
Okay, okay, we'll discuss all this next time.
And then the bell rang.
Mom met me in the locker room. When we were about to leave, Boris Sergeevich came up to us.
Well, he said, smiling, maybe your boy will be Lobachevsky, maybe Mendeleev. He can become Surikov or Koltsov, I will not be surprised if he becomes known to the country as his comrade Nikolai Mamai or some boxer is known, but I can assure you of one thing absolutely: he will not achieve the glory of Ivan Kozlovsky. Never!
Mom blushed terribly and said:
Well, we'll see that later!
And when we walked home, I kept thinking:
"Is Kozlovsky singing louder than me?"
"HE IS ALIVE AND LIGHTING ..."
One evening I was sitting in the yard, near the sand, and was waiting for my mother. She probably stayed late at the institute, or in the store, or, maybe, stood for a long time at the bus stop. Do not know. Only all the parents of our yard had already come, and all the guys went home with them and probably already drank tea with bagels and feta cheese, but my mother was still not there ...
And now lights began to light up in the windows, and the radio began to play music, and dark clouds were moving in the sky - they looked like old bearded men ...
And I felt hungry, but my mother was not there, and I thought that if I knew that my mother was hungry and was waiting for me somewhere at the end of the world, I would immediately run to her, and not be late and not made her sit on the sand and be bored.
And at that time Mishka came out into the yard. He said:
- Great!
And I said:
- Great!
Mishka sat down with me and picked up a dump truck.
- Wow! - said the Bear. - Where did you get it? Does he pick up the sand himself? Not yourself? And he dumps himself? Yes? And the pen? What is it for? Can you twirl it? Yes? A? Wow! Will you give it to me home?
I said:
- No I will not give. Present. Dad gave it before leaving.
The bear pouted and moved away from me. The yard grew even darker.
I looked at the gate so as not to miss when my mother came. But she still didn’t go. Apparently, she met Aunt Rosa, and they are standing and talking and do not even think about me. I lay down on the sand.
Here Mishka says:
- Would you mind a dump truck?
- Get off, Mishka.
Then the Bear says:
- I can give you one Guatemala and two Barbados for it!
I'm talking:
- Compared Barbados to a dump truck ...
And Mishka:
- Well, do you want me to give you a swimming circle?
I'm talking:
- He's burst.
And Mishka:
- You glue it!
I even got angry:
- Where to swim? In the bathroom? On Tuesdays?
And Mishka pouted again. And then he says:
- Well, it was not! Know my kindness! On!
And he handed me a box of matches. I took it in my hands.
- You open it, - said the Bear, - then you will see!
I opened the box and at first did not see anything, and then I saw a small light green light, as if a tiny star was burning somewhere far, far from me, and at the same time I myself was holding it now in my hands.
- What is it, Mishka, - I said in a whisper, - what is it?
“It's a firefly,” said Bear. - What, good? He's alive, don't think.
- Bear, - I said, - take my dump truck, do you want? Take it forever, for good! Give me this star, I'll take it home ...
And Mishka grabbed my dump truck and ran home. And I stayed with my firefly, looked at it, looked and could not get enough of it: how green it is, as if in a fairy tale, and how close it is, in the palm of my hand, but it shines, as if from afar ... And I could not even breathe , and I heard my heart pounding, and a little prickling in my nose, as if I wanted to cry.
And I sat like that for a long time, for a very long time. And no one was around. And I forgot about everyone in this world.
But then my mother came, and I was very happy, and we went home. And when they began to drink tea with bagels and feta cheese, my mother asked:
- Well, how is your dump truck?
And I said:
- I, mom, changed it.
Mom said:
- Interesting! And for what?
I answered:
- Firefly! Here he lives in a box. Turn off the light!
And my mother turned off the light, and the room became dark, and the two of us began to look at the pale green star.
Then my mother turned on the light.
“Yes,” she said, “it's magic! But still, how did you decide to give such a valuable thing as a dump truck for this worm?
“I've been waiting for you for so long,” I said, “and I was so bored, and this firefly, he turned out to be better than any dump truck in the world.
Mom looked at me intently and asked:
- And why, what exactly is it better?
I said:
- Why don't you understand ?! After all, he is alive! And it shines! ..
GREEN LEOPARDS
The teacher wrote the theme of the essay on the blackboard: "Your comrade."
“Do I have a REAL comrade? thought Andryusha. With whom you can climb the mountains, and go for exploration, and dive to the bottom of the World Ocean. And in general, at least go to the ends of the world! .. "
Andryusha thought and thought, then thought and thought again and decided: he has such a friend! And then he wrote in large letters in a notebook:
MY COMRADE GRANDMA
Her name is Claudia Stepanovna, or just grandmother Klava. She was born a long time ago, and when she grew up, she became a railway woman. Grandmother Klava took part in various sports parades. That's why she's so brave and dexterous
Andryusha read the essay and sighed: he did not like it. How can you write so boringly about your grandmother?
No, he thought.
And he began to dream. About real mountains, which I have never been to. I wish I could climb to the very peaks! ..
Where the eternal glaciers don't melt.
Where is the avalanche
falls off a cliff.
Where it's cold even in July
And eagles soar in the sky
The mountain paths are dangerous there.
A rockfall thunders into the gorge.
Here are the snow leopards -
in the snow from head to toe.
They go out onto the road
their appetite is excellent!
And each of the leopards by the leg
strives to grab you.
A group of leopards approached.
The belt slips in fear
But here to the top
Grandma Klava climbed up
as agile as a deer.
The backpack is behind her,
and there are 28 cutlets in it,
piece of African cheese
and even a Chinese bracelet.
And the grandmother of the leopards fed
probably two minutes
and hardworking hand
stroking them on the head.
The snow leopards are full
and they say so politely:
“Thank you, grandmother Klava,
for a delicious and hearty lunch! .. "
And then they brushed their teeth and
went to the lair to take a nap.
“That's how grandma! - thought Andryusha. - With such a friend, not only in the mountains, but not a bit scary in reconnaissance.
And then it presented itself to him:
Night. Street. Flashlight. Pharmacy
No, it's better like this:
Night. Lake. Moon. Dubrava. And in the middle is a ravine. In short, a typical military environment
In intelligence, sneezing is not allowed!
Do you see the ravine turning black?
The enemy is hiding there -
the enemy of the Soviet people.
As he jumps out of the ditch,
how he pulls out his pistol,
as Klava's grandmother asks:
"How old are you, grandmother?"
But grandma Klava will not flinch -
she is such a person!
(no, better like this:
she is such a person!)
Therefore, it will not even flinch,
taking off the duffel bag.
And in that duffel bag according to the charter
put: 20 cutlets,
a bottle of ghee
and even a tram ticket.
Our enemy will feed
he sighs not in our way:
“Thank you, grandmother Klava!
It was a nutritious one
refreshments "
And immediately throw his pistol out into the sea.
Andryusha now dreamed well: he clearly imagined how the pistol was slowly sinking to the very bottom of the World Ocean. Wow, and deeply! ..
Washing half of the world with water,
seething ocean World.
It's very damp at the bottom
happens at night sometimes.
The water is there to the left and to the right
so there is nothing to breathe
But the glorious grandmother Klava
bravely knows how to dive!
And in a deep-sea valley
mustachioed sperm whale lies.
He thinks a bitter thought
and quietly gnaws a bone:
"And who is there fins
moves like a sawfish?
Excuse me, yes it's yourself
Yes, this is Grandma Kla "
For joy at the sperm whale
breath stole in the goiter -
he cannot utter a word,
but only mutters: boo-boo-boo
And the scuba grandmother
took out 12 cutlets,
cherry jam jar
and even a bouquet of daisies.
And the sperm whale, know to yourself, mutters: "Save-BU-BU-BU-shka, save-BU BU-BU-shka" and from happiness only blows colorful bubbles.
And those bubbles rise to the surface where the edge of the water is. Or the edge of the air in general, the real edge of the world. And Anryusha rises with them. No land, no water, no air can be seen. Continuous airless space. It is called the cosmos. And the Earth flickers with a dim light somewhere far away. And melts, melts
Our planet has melted
and with it our country.
There is no white light to be seen here
but grandma Klava is visible!
She's near the starry outskirts
flies among interplanetary worlds,
like Yuri Gagarin,
or maybe like German Titov.
In a spacesuit at Klava's grandmother
8 cutlets are hidden,
saucepan with chicken broth
and even an alarm clock "Dawn".
Astronomers of the Universe are looking
for a delicious and hearty lunch
into their big telescopes
and send grateful greetings:
THANKS TO YOU PST
GRANDMA KLAVDIA STEPANOVNA ZPT
YOUR MOTHER CARE
NAMED IN THE WORLD COMMUNITY
TChK
National glory thunders -
the thundering sound is heard:
"Long live grandmother Klava,
and also a grandmother's grandson! "
And even constellations in the sky
Libra, Scorpio and Sagittarius -
greet grandmother with grandson
This concludes:
THE END
And on time! Because the bell just rang.
"Oh, sorry, sighed Andryusha, the lesson is so short"
He remembered that he had another grandmother. Her name is Elena Gerasimovna, or just grandmother Lena. She, too, was born a long time ago. And also
“Okay, Andryusha decided. I will definitely write about her another time "
And he signed the essay: Andryusha IVANOV, grandson of Klava's grandmother (and Lena's grandmother too)
Tatiana PETROSYAN
A NOTE
The note had the most harmless appearance.
In it, according to all gentlemanly laws, an ink face and a friendly explanation should have been found: "Sidorov is a goat."
So Sidorov, not suspecting that he was thin, instantly unfolded the message and was dumbfounded.
Inside it was written in large, beautiful handwriting: "Sidorov, I love you!"
In the roundness of his handwriting, Sidorov felt a mockery. Who wrote this to him? Squinting, he looked around the classroom. The author of the note was bound to reveal himself. But Sidorov's main enemies this time for some reason did not grin maliciously. (This is how they usually grinned. But this time not.)
But Sidorov immediately noticed that Vorobyov was looking at him without blinking. It doesn't just look like that, but with meaning! There was no doubt: she wrote the note. But then it turns out that Vorobyova loves him ?!
And then Sidorov's thought came to a dead end and began to hammer helplessly, like a fly in a glass. WHAT DOES LOVE MEAN ??? What consequences will this entail and how can Sidorov be now? ..
“We will argue logically, Sidorov reasoned logically. What, for example, do I love? Pears! I love means I always want to eat "
At that moment, Vorobyova turned back to him and licked her lips bloodthirsty. Sidorov froze. He was struck by her long not trimmed well, yes, real claws! For some reason, I remembered how in the buffet Vorobyova eagerly gnawed on a bony chicken leg
“We need to pull ourselves together, Sidorov pulled himself together. (Hands turned out to be dirty. But Sidorov ignored little things.) I love not only pears, but also my parents. However, there can be no question of eating them. Mom bakes sweet pies. Dad often wears me around his neck. And I love them for that "
Then Vorobyova turned around again, and Sidorov thought with melancholy that now he would have to bake sweet cakes for her for a day and a day and wear her around his neck to school in order to justify such a sudden and insane love. He looked closely and found that Vorobyova was not thin and it would probably be difficult to wear her.
“All is not lost yet, Sidorov did not give up. I also love our dog Bobik. Especially when I train him or take him out for a walk "
Then Sidorov felt stifling at the mere thought that Vorobyova could make him jump for every pie, and then take him out for a walk, holding tightly to the leash and not allowing him to evade either to the right or to the left.
“I love the cat Murka, especially when you blow right into her ear, Sidorov thought in despair, no, it's not that I like to catch flies and put them in a glass, but I really like toys that can be broken and see what's inside”
The last thought made Sidorov feel bad. There was only one salvation. He hastily tore a piece of paper out of his notebook, compressed his lips resolutely and in a firm hand wrote out the menacing words: "Vorobyova, I love you."
Let her get scared.
O. KOSHKIN
Tired of fighting!
At exactly 13 hours 13 minutes, the secret intelligence officer was declassified. He fled through the streets to escape the pursuit. Two men in civilian clothes were chasing him, firing on the move. The scout had already swallowed three ciphers and was now hastily chewing on the fourth. "Eh, soda would be now! .." he thought. How tired of fighting he was!
Top-top-top! .. The shoes of the pursuers were knocking closer and closer.
And suddenly oh, happiness! the scout saw a hole in the fence. He, without hesitation, jumped into it and ended up in the zoo.
Boy, come back! ”The usher waved her arms angrily.
No matter how it is! Former scout Mukhin ran along the path, climbed over one grate, over another and found himself in an elephant.
I'll hide here, okay? panting, he shouted.
Hide, I'm not sorry, the elephant replied. He stood, wiggling his ears, and listened to the radio on the events in Africa. Homeland, after all!
Are you at war? he asked when the last news ended.
Yeah, I ate all the encryption! slapping on the stomach, Mukhin boasted.
Children's fun, the elephant sighed and sadly stomped on the spot. My great-grandfather fought, yes!
Chi-in-oh? Mukhin was surprised. Was your great-grandfather a tank, or what?
A stupid boy! offended by the elephant. My great-grandfather was Hannibal's war elephant.
Whom? again Mukhin did not understand.
The elephant perked up. He loved to tell the story of his great-grandfather.
Sit down, listen! he said and drank water from the iron barrel. In the year 246 before new era the Carthaginian general Hamilcar Barca had a son, Hannibal. His father fought endlessly with the Romans and therefore entrusted the upbringing of his son to a fighting elephant. This was my dear great-grandfather!
The elephant wiped away the tears with its trunk. The animals in the neighboring enclosures were quiet and also listened.
Oh, it was an elephant mountain! When on hot days he fanned himself with his ears, the wind rose so that the trees crackled. So, great-grandfather fell in love with Hannibal like own son... He did not close his eyes, so that the child was not kidnapped by the Roman spies. Noticing the scout, he grabbed him with his trunk and threw him across the sea back to Rome.
“Hey, the scouts are flying! the inhabitants of Carthage spoke looking up into the sky. Must be for war! "
And, for sure, to the First Punic War! Hamilcar Barca had already fought with the Romans in Spain.
Meanwhile, the boy grew up under the supervision of a war elephant. Oh, how they loved each other! Hannibal recognized the elephant by the steps and fed it with selected raisins. By the way, do you have any raisins? the elephant asked Mukhin.
Nope! he shook his head.
It's a pity. So, when Hannibal became a commander, then the phase he decided to start the Second Punic War. "Maybe we should not? my great-grandfather dissuaded him. Maybe we'd better go for a swim? " But Hannibal did not want to listen to anything. Then the elephant sounded, calling the army, and the Carthaginians set out on a campaign.
Hannibal led an army across the Alps, intending to strike at the rear of the Romans. Yes, it was a difficult transition! Mountain eagles carried away the soldiers, and hail the size of a melon fell from the sky. But here the road was blocked by an abyss. Then my great-grandfather stood over her, and the army crossed over him, as if over a bridge.
Hannibal's arrival took the Romans by surprise. They did not have time to turn the formation, as the elephant was already running towards them, sweeping away everything in the way. The infantry moved behind him, the cavalry ace of the flanks. Victory! The army was jubilant. The War Elephant was picked up and started to swing.
"Brothers, let's go swimming!" the elephant suggested again.
But the soldiers did not listen to him: "What else, hunt to fight!"
The Romans, too, were not going to put up. Consul Gaius Flaminius gathered an army and marched against the Carthaginians. Then Hannibal went for a new trick. He put the army on an elephant and led it through the swamps, bypassing the enemy. Great-grandfather walked head over heels in the water. Soldiers hung from the sides like bunches of grapes. On the way, many got their feet wet, and the commander lost an eye.
Once again, Hannibal was victorious! Then the Romans gathered for a council and decided to decide the elephant's voice faltered, he raised the barrel and, in order to calm down, poured all the water on himself, to kill his great-grandfather! On the same night, a spy in Hannibal's clothes sneaked into the Carthaginian camp. He had poisoned raisins in his pocket. Having approached the elephant, he got up on the leeward side and said in the voice of Hannibal: "Eat, father elephant!" Great-grandfather swallowed just one raisin and fell down dead
The animals in the neighboring enclosures were crying. Crocodile tears flowed from the crocodile's eyes.
What about Hannibal? Mukhin asked.
For three days and three nights he mourned his elephant. Since then, luck has betrayed him. His army was defeated. Carthage is destroyed, and he himself died in exile in 183 BC.
The elephant finished the story.
And I thought only horses fought, Mukhin sighed.
We all fought here! We are all fighting! .. animals screamed in eager rivalry: camels, giraffes, and even a hippopotamus that surfaced like a submarine.
And the crocodile is the loudest:
Grab the belly, twist the tail and carry it! Like a battering ram. And bite the enemy, too. You will break off all your teeth! ..
And the mice were launched under the armor, the elephant interjected condemningly. This is to tickle the knights!
And we are, we are! frogs tore themselves in the terrarium. Tied up for the whole night on the front line, croak at the scouts! ..
Mukhin grabbed his head right: what is it, all the animals were forced to fight? ..
Here it is! suddenly a voice came from behind. Gotcha! Hands up!
Mukhin turned around. His buddies Volkov and Zaitsev stood at the grate and aimed with rifles.
Come on, tired of you! Mukhin dismissed it. Let's go swimming!
That's right, the crocodile approved. Come to my pool, there is enough space for everyone! And the water is warm
Mukhin began to unbutton his coat.
I'll bring you raisins tomorrow, he told the elephant. Good raisins, not poisoned. I'll ask my mom.
And he climbed into the water.
Tatiana PETROSYAN
MOM, BE MOTHER!
Yurik didn't have a dad. And one day he said to his mother:
If it were dad, he would make me a club.
Mom said nothing. But the next day, a Young Joiner set appeared on her nightstand. Mom sawed, planed, glued something. And once she handed Yurik a wonderful polished club.
A good club, Yurik sighed. Only my dad would go to football with me. The next day, my mother brought two tickets for the match in Luzhniki.
Well, I'll go with you, Yurik sighed. You don't even know how to whistle. A week later, at all matches, my mother whistled madly with two fingers and demanded to give the judge for soap. It was then that the difficulties with soap began. But Yurik sighed:
If it were dad, he would lift me with one left and teach me the tricks
The next day, my mother bought a barbell and a punching bag. She has achieved excellent athletic performance. In the mornings, she lifted the barbell and Yurika with one left, then thrashed the punching bag, then ran to work, and in the evening she was waiting for the semifinals of the World Cup. And when there was no football-hockey, mother before deep night bent over the radio circuit with a soldering iron in her hands.
Summer came, and Yurik went to the village to see his grandmother. But my mother stayed. At parting, Yurik sighed:
If it were dad, he would speak in a bass, wear a vest and smoke a pipe
When Yurik returned from his grandmother, his mother met him at the station. Only Yurik did not even recognize her at first. Mom's biceps bulged under her vest, and the back of her head was cut short. Mom took the pipe out of her mouth with a calloused hand and said in a gentle bass:
Well, hello son!
But Yurik only sighed:
Daddy would have a beard
At night, Yurik woke up. The light was on in my mother's bedroom. He got up, went to the door and saw Mom with a shaving brush in her hand. Her face was tired. She washed her cheeks. Then she took a razor and saw Yurik in the mirror.
I'll try, sonny, my mother said quietly. They say that if you shave every day, the beard will grow.
But Yurik rushed to her and roared, burying himself in my mother's hard press.
No, no, he sobbed. Not necessary. Become a mom back. You still won't grow your father's! .. You will grow your mother's beard!
Since that night, my mother has thrown a barbell. And a month later I came home with some skinny uncle. He did not smoke a pipe. And he didn't wear a beard. And his ears were protruding.
He unbuttoned his coat, under which a cat was found instead of a vest. He unwound the muffler, it was a small boa constrictor. He took off his hat there was a white mouse swarming around. He handed Yurik a cake box. There was a chicken in it.
Dad! Yurik beamed. And he dragged dad into the room to show the barbell.
Alexander DUDOLADOV
BAM AND DONE!
Let everything remain the same, and I will have the Spanish name Pedro.
Bang! ..
Everything remained the same. And I'm a black-browed Spaniard. Smile like a flash.
Hi Pedro!
Smile.
Fireworks, Pedro!
Smile back. I don’t understand the language. A guest from a friendly country. I walk, goggling at the achievements.
Eh, it's good to be a foreign guest in Moscow! Much better than Em Nitkin. Just how to do it. Here you cannot do without a magic wand.
And let me be a magic wand myself! So wooden, thin. And magical!
Bang!
I am a magic wand! I bring benefit to people. As soon as you wave me, every benefit arises.
What if you become a benefit?
Bam!
And here I am the benefit! Everyone is glad to me. Everyone is smiling. Old people and youth. No! Bam!
I am the smile of youth!
I'm laughing! Ha ha ha ha!
Nitkin! Where are you? Why do you laugh in class? Nitkin, stand up! What is the theme of the essay?
The theme of the essay, Olga Vasilievna, the essay "What do I want to become when I grow up?"
So who do you want to be when you grow up?
I want to become want to become
Snegirev, don't tell Nitkin!
I want to become a scientist.
Okay. Sit down and write: to the scientists.
Nitkin sat down and began to write in a notebook: "I want to become a scientist cat, to walk around in a chain."
And Olga Vasilievna went to the table and also began to write. Report for the district: “In the third“ B ”, a test was carried out on the topic“ Who I want to become ”. Based on the results of the essay, I report the following data: one doctors, eight singers, five cooperators, scientists "
Mmya-uuu!
Nitkin! Get up now! And take off this stupid chain!
Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann. Nutcracker and Mouse King
On December 24, the children of the medical adviser Stahlbaum were not allowed to enter the passage room all day, and they were not allowed to enter the living room adjacent to it. In the bedroom, huddled together, Fritz and Marie were sitting in the corner. It was already completely dark, and they were very scared, because the lamps were not brought into the room, as it was supposed to be on Christmas Eve. Fritz, in a mysterious whisper, informed his sister (she had just passed seven years old) that from the very morning in the locked rooms something rustled, noisy and softly tapped. And recently a small dark man with a large box under his arm slipped through the hallway; but Fritz probably knows that this is their godfather, Drosselmeyer. Then Marie clapped her hands for joy and exclaimed:
- Oh, did the godfather make something for us this time?
The senior councilor of the court, Drosselmeyer, was not distinguished by beauty: he was a small, dry man with a wrinkled face, with a large black plaster instead of his right eye, and completely bald, which is why he wore a beautiful white wig. Every time the godfather had something entertaining for the children in his pocket: now a little man turning his eyes and shuffling his foot, now a box from which a bird pops out, then some other little thing. And for Christmas, he always made a beautiful, intricate toy, on which he worked a lot. Therefore, the parents carefully removed his gift.
- Oh, something made for us this time the godfather! - exclaimed Marie.
Fritz decided that this year it would certainly be a fortress, and there would be pretty little soldiers marching and throwing out articles, and then other soldiers would appear and attack, but those soldiers in the fortress would bravely fire cannons at them and rise noise and rumble.
“No, no,” interrupted Fritz Marie, “the godfather was telling me about the beautiful garden. There is a large lake, a miracle of what beautiful swans with golden ribbons around their necks swim on and sing beautiful songs. Then a girl will come out of the garden, come to the lake, lure the swans and feed them with sweet marzipan ...
“Swans don’t eat marzipan,” Fritz interrupted her not very politely, “and the godfather cannot make a whole garden. But what good is his toys to us?” They are immediately taken away from us. No, I like my father's and mother's gifts much more: they stay with us, we manage them ourselves.
And so the children began to wonder what their parents would give them. Marie said that Mamzel Trudchen (her big doll) had completely deteriorated: she had become so clumsy, every now and then she fell to the floor, so that she now had nasty marks all over her face. And then, Mom smiled when Marie admired Greta's umbrella so much. And Fritz assured that he just lacked a chestnut horse in the court stable, and that there was not enough cavalry in the troops. Daddy knows that very well.
So, the children knew very well that their parents bought them all sorts of wonderful gifts and are now placing them on the table; but at the same time they did not doubt that the good baby Christ shone with his gentle and gentle eyes and that Christmas presents, as if touched by his benevolent hand, bring more joy than all others.
YOLKA Zoshchenko
Children were looking forward to a fun holiday. And even through the crack of the door they peeped how my mother decorates the tree.
Little sister Lele was seven years old at the time. She was a lively girl.
She once said:
Minka, mom went to the kitchen. Let's go to the room where the tree is and see what is going on there.
Now the children entered the room. And they see: a very beautiful tree. And there are gifts under the tree. And on the tree there are colorful beads, flags, lanterns, golden nuts, pastilles and Crimean apples.
Lelya says:
Let's not look at the gifts. Instead, let's eat one lozenge at a time.
And so she comes up to the tree and instantly eats one lozenge hanging on a string.
Lelya, if you have eaten a lozenge, then I will also eat something now.
And Minka comes up to the tree and bites off a small piece of apple.
Lelya says:
Minka, if you took a bite of an apple, then I'll eat another lozenge and in addition I'll take this candy for myself.
And Lelya was such a tall, lanky girl. And she could reach high. She stood on tiptoe and her big mouth began to eat the second lozenge.
And Minka was amazing vertically challenged... And he had almost nothing to reach, except for one apple, which hung low.
If you, Lelyshcha, have eaten the second lozenge, then I will take another bite of this apple.
And Minka again took this apple with his hands and again bit off a little.
Lelya says:
If you have bitten off an apple for the second time, then I will no longer stand on ceremony and now I will eat the third lozenge and, in addition, I will take a cracker and a nut as a souvenir.
Minka almost roared. Because she could reach everything, but he could not.
And I, Lelishcha, how I will put a chair by the tree and how I will get myself something, besides an apple.
And so he began to pull a chair towards the tree with his thin little hands. But the chair fell on Minka. he wanted to lift a chair. But he fell again. And right for gifts.
Minka, you seem to have broken the doll. This is true. You knocked the porcelain handle off the doll.
Then mother's footsteps were heard, and the children ran into another room.
Guests soon arrived. There are many children with their parents.
And then my mother lit all the candles on the tree, opened the door and said:
All come in.
And all the children entered the room where the tree stood.
Now let every child come to me, and I will give everyone a toy and a treat.
The children began to approach their mother. And she gave everyone a toy. Then she took an apple, a lozenge and a candy from the tree and gave it to the child.
And all the children were very happy. Then my mother picked up the apple that Minka bit off.
Lelya and Minka, come here. Which of you two bit off this apple?
This is Mink's job.
Lelka taught me this.
I'll put Lelia in the corner with my nose, and I wanted to give you a clockwork engine. But now I will give this groovy little engine to the boy to whom I wanted to give a bitten off apple.
And she took a little train and gave it to one four-year-old boy. And he immediately began to play with him.
Minkaa got angry with this boy and hit him on the arm with a toy. And he roared so desperately that his own mother took him in her arms and said:
From now on, I will not come to visit you with my boy.
You can leave, and then the locomotive will remain for me.
And that mother was surprised at these words and said:
Probably your boy will be a robber.
And then mom took Minka on her arms and said to that mom:
Don't you dare talk about my boy like that. Better leave with your scrofulous child and never come to us again.
I will do so. It is common with you to sit in nettles.
And then another, third mother, said:
And I'll leave too. My girl didn't deserve to
· She was given a doll with a broken arm.
And Lelya shouted:
You can go with your scrofulous child too. And then a doll with a broken handle will remain for me.
And then Minka, sitting in her mother's arms, shouted:
In general, you can all leave, and then all the toys will remain for us.
And then all the guests began to leave. Then dad came into the room.
This kind of upbringing is ruining my children. I do not want them to fight, quarrel and drive out guests. It will be difficult for them to live in the world, and they will die alone.
And dad went to the tree and put out all the candles.:
Go to bed instantly. And tomorrow I will give all the toys to the guests.
And now thirty-five years have passed since then, and this tree is still not forgotten.
Bazhov Malachite box
From Stepan, you see, there are three little robots left.
Two boys. Robyats are as shy, but this one, as they say, is neither mother nor father. Even when Stepanova was still small, people marveled at this girl. Not that the girls-women, but the men said to Stepan:
- Not otherwise, this one with you, Stepan, fell out of the brushes Into whom it was just conceived! The little black girl herself, and the little green eyes. It doesn't seem like our girls at all.
Stepan jokes, it happened:
- It's not a miracle that she's a little black. My father, after all, from an early age hid in the ground. And that the eyes are green is also not surprising. You never know, I stuffed malachite for Barin Turchaninov. Here is a memo to me and remained.
So he called this girl a Memo. - Come on, my memo! - And when it happened to her what to buy, so always blue or green will bring.
So that girl grew up in people's minds. Exactly and in all likelihood the garusinka fell out of the festive belt - you can see it far away. And although she was not very fond of strangers, and everyone to her - Tanya and Tanyushka. The most envious women admired them too. Well, how - beauty! Everyone is cute. One mother sighed:
- Beauty is beauty, but not ours. Exactly who replaced the girl for me.
According to Stepan, this girl was killed very quickly. She was purely crying all over, she lost weight from her face, only her eyes remained. Mother thought of giving Tanyushka that casket to Malakhitov - let him have some fun. Though a little, but a girl, from an early age it is flattering for them to scoff at themselves. Tanya began to disassemble these things. And here's a miracle - which she tries on, and the one for her. Mother didn't know why, but this one knows everything. And he also says:
- Mammy, how good is a donut! The warmth from him, as if you are sitting on a warm place, and even who is stroking you soft.
Nastasya sewed it herself, she remembers how her fingers were numb, her ears ached, her neck could not warm up. So he thinks: "It's not for nothing. Oh, for a reason!" - Yes, hurry up the box, then back into the chest. Only Tanya since then, no, no, and will ask:
- Mammy, let me play with a taty gift!
When Nastasya is nailed down, well, a mother's heart, she will regret it, take out the box, only punish:
- Don't break something!
Then, when Tanya grew up, she began to take out the box herself. The mother and the older boys will leave for the mowing or somewhere else, Tanyushka will remain to play housewives. First, of course, he will rule what the mother punished. Well, wash the cups and spoons, shake off the tablecloth, wave a broom in the hut, give the chicken feed, take a look in the stove. Will settle everything as soon as possible, and for the box. By that time, one of the upper chests remained, and even that one became light. Tanya will move him onto a stool, take out the casket and sort out the pebbles, admire, try on himself.
War and Peace
In Mozhaisk, troops were stationed and marching everywhere. Cossacks, foot, horse soldiers, wagons, boxes, cannons could be seen from all sides. Pierre was in a hurry to drive forward, and the farther he rode away from Moscow and the deeper he plunged into this sea of troops, the more he was seized by anxiety of uneasiness and a new joyful feeling he had not yet experienced. It was a feeling similar to that which he experienced in the Sloboda Palace when the emperor arrived - a feeling of the need to undertake something and sacrifice something. He was now experiencing a pleasant feeling of consciousness that everything that constitutes the happiness of people, the comforts of life, wealth, even life itself, is nonsense, which is pleasant to cast aside in comparison with something. tried to understand for himself for whom and for what he finds a special charm to sacrifice everything. He was not interested in what he wanted to sacrifice for, but the sacrifice itself constituted a new joyful feeling for him.
On the morning of the 25th, Pierre left Mozhaisk. On the descent from a huge steep mountain leading out of the city past the cathedral, Pierre got out of the carriage and went on foot. A cavalry regiment descended behind him, with singers in front. A train of carts with the wounded in yesterday's case was rising to meet them. The carts, on which lay and sat three and four soldiers of the wounded, jumped on a steep rise. The wounded, tied with rags, pale, with pursed lips and frowned eyebrows, holding on to the beds, jumped and shoved in carts. Everyone looked with almost naive childish curiosity at Pierre's white hat and green tailcoat.
One cart with the wounded stopped at the edge of the road near Pierre. One wounded old soldier looked back at him.
- Well, fellow countrywoman, will they put us here, eh? Ali to Moscow?
Pierre was so lost in thought that he did not hear the question. He looked now at the cavalry regiment, now meeting with a train of wounded, now at the cart in which he was standing and on which two wounded were sitting; one was probably wounded in the cheek. His whole head was tied with rags, and one cheek swelled like a child's head. His mouth and nose were on the side. This soldier looked at the cathedral and was baptized. Another, a young boy, a recruit, blond and white, as if completely without blood in his thin face, with a stopped, kind smile, looked at Pierre. The cavalry singers passed over the cart itself.
- Ah, yes, the hedgehog's head has disappeared. As if echoing them, but in a different kind of fun, the metallic sounds of pealing were interrupted in the sky. But under the slope, by the wounded cart, it was damp, cloudy and sad.
A soldier with a swollen cheek looked angrily at the cavalry singers.
- Today, not only a soldier, but also seen peasants! The peasants and those are being driven away, ”said the soldier with a sad smile, who was standing behind the cart and addressing Pierre. - Nowadays they do not make out All the people want to pile on, one word - Moscow. They want to do one end. - Despite the ambiguity of the soldier's words, Pierre understood everything he wanted to say and nodded his head approvingly.
“The cavalrymen go to battle and meet the wounded, and do not think for a minute about what awaits them, but walk past and wink at the wounded. And of these all twenty thousand are doomed to die! " - thought Pierre, heading on.
Having entered a small street of the village, Pierre saw the peasants of the militia with crosses on their hats and in white shirts, who were working for something on a huge mound. Seeing these men, Pierre remembered the wounded soldiers in Mozhaisk, and it became clear to him what the soldier wanted to express when he said that they wanted to pile up with all the people.
How dad studied at school
HOW DAD WAS GOING TO SCHOOL
When dad was little, he was very sick. He did not miss a single childhood illness. He suffered from measles, mumps, whooping cough. After every illness he had complications. And when they passed, little dad quickly fell ill with a new disease.
When he had to go to school, his little dad was also sick. When he recovered and went to class for the first time, all the children had been studying for a long time. They all had already met, and the teacher also knew them all. And no one knew little dad. And everyone looked at him. It was very unpleasant. Moreover, some even stuck out their tongue.
And one boy gave him a leg. And the little daddy fell. But he didn't cry. He got up and pushed the boy. He also fell. Then he got up and pushed the little dad. And the little dad fell down again. He didn't cry again. And again he pushed the boy. They probably would have pushed around like this all day. But then the bell rang. Everyone went to class and sat down in their places. And little dad had no place of his own. And he was seated next to the girl. The whole class began to laugh. And even this girl laughed.
Then the little dad really wanted to cry. But suddenly he felt funny, and he himself laughed. Then the teacher laughed too.
She said:
Well done! And I was already afraid that you would cry.
I was scared myself, Dad said.
And they all laughed again.
Remember, children, said the teacher. Whenever you feel like crying, try laughing. This is my advice to you for life! Now let's learn.
Little dad found out that day that he reads the best in the class. But then he found out that he writes the worst. When it turned out that he spoke the best in class, the teacher shook her finger at him.
She was a very good teacher. She was both stern and cheerful. It was very interesting to study with her. And the little dad remembered her advice for the rest of his life. After all, this was his first day at school. And then there were a lot of these days. And there were so many funny and sad, good and bad stories in little daddy's school!
HOW DAD'S HAVE Avenged the GERMAN LANGUAGE
Alexander Borisovich Raskin (19141971)
When dad was young and in school, he had different grades. In Russian it is "good". In arithmetic "satisfactory". The spelling is "unsatisfactory." In drawing "bad" with two minuses. And the art teacher promised dad a third minus.
But then one day a new teacher entered the class. She was very pretty. Young, beautiful, cheerful, in some very fancy dress.
My name is Elena Sergeevna, and how are you? she said and smiled.
And everyone shouted:
Zhenya! Zina! Lisa! Misha! Kolya!
Elena Sergeevna covered her ears, and everyone was silent. Then she said:
I will teach you German... Do you agree?
Yes! Yes! the whole class screamed.
And so little dad began to learn German. At first he really liked that the chair in German is der shtul, the table is der tysh, the book is das bukh, the boy is der knabe, the girl is das metchen.
It was like some kind of game, and the whole class was interested to know it. But when declensions and conjugations began, some of the knaben and methen got bored. It turned out that it is necessary to study the German language seriously. It turned out that this is not a game, but the same subject as arithmetic and the Russian language. I had to immediately learn three things: write in German, read in German and speak German. Elena Sergeevna tried very hard to make her lessons interesting. She brought books with funny stories to the class, taught the children to sing German songs and joked in German in the lesson too. And it was really interesting for those who did it properly. And those students who did not study and did not prepare lessons did not understand anything. And, of course, they were bored. They looked less and less at the das bukh and more and more often were silent, like a devil, when Elena Sergeevna interrogated them. And sometimes, just before the German lesson, a wild shout was heard: "Their habe is screwed!" That in translation into Russian meant: "I have a walk!". And translated into school language it meant: "I have to skip!".
Hearing this cry, many students picked up: “Shpatsiren! Spatsiren! " And poor Elena Sergeevna, coming to the lesson, noticed that all the boys were studying the verb "shpatsiren", and only girls were sitting at their desks. And this, of course, upset her very much. Little dad was also mainly engaged in the spatula. He even wrote poetry that began like this:
No more pleasing to the ear Children's Words acquaintances: "Let's run from German!"
He did not want to offend Elena Sergeevna with this. It was just a lot of fun running away from the lesson, hiding from the director and teachers, hiding in the school attic from Elena Sergeevna. It was much more interesting than sitting in class without having learned a lesson and answering Elena Sergeevna's question: "Haben zi den federmesser?" (“Do you have a penknife?”) Answer after a long thought: “Their nicht” ... (which in Russian sounded very stupid: “I don’t ...”). When little dad answered that, the whole class laughed at him. Then the whole school laughed. And little dad really did not like it when they laughed at him. He was much more fond of laughing at others himself. If he were smarter, he would start studying German, and they would stop laughing at him. But little dad was very offended. He was offended by the teacher. He was offended by the German language. And he took revenge on the German language. Little daddy never did it seriously. Then he did not study French properly at another school. Then he almost did not study English language At the institute. And now dad does not know a single foreign language. Whom did he take revenge on? Now dad understands that he offended himself. He cannot read many of his favorite books in the language in which they are written. He really wants to go on a tourist trip abroad, but he is ashamed to go there, not knowing how to speak any language. Sometimes dad is introduced to by different people from other countries. They speak Russian poorly. But they all learn Russian, and they all ask dad:
Sprechen Zee Deutsch? Parlais wu france? Do you speak English?
And dad just throws up his hands and shakes his head. What can he answer them? Only: "Their nicht." And he is very ashamed.
HOW DAD SPEAK THE TRUTH
When dad was little, he lied very badly. Other children did it somehow better. And little dad was told right away: “You're lying!” And they always guessed.
Little dad was very surprised. He asked: "How do you know?"
And everyone answered him: "It is written on your nose."
After hearing this several times, little dad decided to check his nose. He went to the mirror and said:
I am the strongest, the smartest, the most beautiful! I'm a dog! I'm a crocodile! I'm a locomotive! ..
Having said all this, little daddy looked at his nose in the mirror for a long time and patiently. There was still nothing written on the nose.
Then he decided that he needed to lie even more. Continuing to look in the mirror, he said quite loudly:
I can swim! I am very good at drawing! I have beautiful handwriting!
But even this blatant lie achieved nothing. No matter how little dad looked in the mirror, nothing was written on his nose. Then he went to his parents and said:
I lied a lot and looked at myself in the mirror, but there was nothing on my nose. Why do you say that it says that I am lying?
Little daddy's parents laughed a lot at their stupid child. They said:
No one can see what is written on his nose. And the mirror never shows it. It's like biting your own elbow. Have you tried it?
No, said little dad. But I'll try...
And he tried to bite his elbow. He tried very hard, but nothing worked. And then he decided not to look at his nose in the mirror anymore, not to bite his elbow and not to lie.
Little dad decided to tell everyone only the truth from Monday. He decided that from that day on, only the pure truth would be written on his nose.
And then came this Monday. As soon as the little dad washed up and sat down to drink tea, he was immediately asked:
Did you wash your ears?
And he immediately told the truth:
No.
Because all boys don't like to wash their ears. There are too many of them, these ears. First my one ear, and then another. And still they are dirty in the evening.
But adults don't understand this. And they cried out:
A shame! Slut! Wash immediately!
Please ... Little Daddy said quietly.
He went out and came back very quickly.
Ears of soaps? asked him.
Washed, he replied.
And then he was asked a completely unnecessary question:
Both or one?
One ...
And then he was sent to wash his other ear. Then he was asked:
Did you drink fish oil?
And little daddy answered the truth:
Drank.
A teaspoon or a tablespoon?
Until that day, little dad always answered: "Dining room", although he drank a teahouse. Anyone who has ever tried fish oil should understand it. And that was the only lie that was not written on the nose. Everyone here believed in little dad. Moreover, he always poured fish oil first into a tablespoon, and then poured it into a teahouse, and poured the rest back.
Tea room ... said little dad. After all, he decided to speak only the truth. And for this he received another teaspoon of fish oil.
It is said that there are children who love fish oil. Have you ever seen such children? I have never met them.
Little dad went to school. And there, too, it was hard for him. The teacher asked:
Who didn't do their homework today?
All were silent. And only little daddy told the truth:
I have not done.
Why? asked the teacher. Of course, one could say that there was a headache, that there was a fire, and then an earthquake began, and then ... In general, one could lie something, although this usually does not help much.
But little dad decided not to lie. And he said pure truth:
I read Jules Verne ...
And then the whole class laughed.
Very well, the teacher said, I'll have to talk to your parents about this writer.
Everyone laughed again, but little daddy felt sad.
And in the evening one aunt came to visit. She asked little dad:
Do you like chocolate?
I love it very much, said the honest little dad.
Do you love me? asked the aunt in a sweet voice.
No, said little dad, I don't.
Why?
First, you have a black wart on your cheek. And then you scream a lot, and it seems to me all the time that you are swearing.
What a long story to tell? Little daddy got no chocolate.
And the parents of the little dad told him this:
Lying, of course, is not good. But to tell only the truth all the time, on every occasion, by the way and inopportunely, it is also not necessary. It's not my aunt's fault that she has a wart. And if she does not know how to speak quietly, then it is too late for her to learn. And if she came to visit and even brought chocolate, it would be possible not to offend her.
And the little daddy got completely confused, because sometimes it is very difficult to understand whether it is possible to tell the truth or it is better not to.
Still, he decided to tell the truth.
And since then, little dad has tried all his life never to lie to anyone. He always tried to tell only the truth, and often for this he received bitter instead of sweet. And they still tell him that when he lies, he has it written on his nose. Well, what then! It is written so it is written! There's nothing you can do about it!
V. Golyavkin. My kind dad
3. On the balcony
I go to the balcony. I see a girl with a bow. She lives in that front door. You can whistle to her. She will look up and see me. This is what I need. "Hello," I say, "tra-la-la, three-li-li!" She will say: "Fool!" - or something different. And it will go further. As if nothing had happened. As if I wasn't teasing her. Me too! What a bow to me! As if I'm waiting for her! I'm waiting for dad. He will bring me some presents. He will tell me about the war. And about different old times. Dad knows so many stories! No one can tell better. I listened and listened to everything!
Dad knows about everything. But sometimes he doesn't want to tell. He is then sad and keeps saying: "No, I wrote the wrong thing, not that, the wrong music. But you! - He says this to me. - You won't let me down, I hope?" I don't want to offend my dad. He dreams that I will become a composer. I am silent. What is music to me? He understands. "It's sad," he says. "You can't even imagine how sad it is!" Why is it sad when I'm not sad at all? After all, dad does not wish me bad. Then why is it so? "Who will you be?" he says. "The leader," I say. "War again?" - My dad is not happy. And he himself fought. He rode a horse himself, fired a machine gun
My dad is very kind. My brother and I once said to my dad: "Buy us ice cream. But more. So that we eat." “Here’s a basin for you,” Dad said, “run for ice cream.” Mom said: "They will catch a cold!" - "It's summer now," Dad replied, "why would they catch a cold!" - "But throat, throat!" - said my mother. Dad said, "Everyone has a throat. But everyone eats ice cream." - "But not in that amount!" - said my mother. "Let them eat as much as they want. What does the quantity have to do with it! They won't eat more than they can!" Dad said so. And we took a basin and went for ice cream. And they brought a whole basin. We put the basin on the table. The sun was shining from the windows. The ice cream began to melt. Dad said, "This is what summer means!" - ordered us to take spoons and sit down at the table. We all sat down at the table - me, dad, mom, Boba. Boba and I were delighted! Ice cream flows down the face, over the shirts. We have such a kind dad! He bought so much ice cream! What now we do not want soon
Dad planted twenty trees on our street. Now they have grown up. A huge tree in front of the balcony. If I reach, I will get the branch.
I'm waiting for dad. It will appear now. I find it difficult to look through the branches. They close the street. But I bend over and see the whole street.
"Notes of an outstanding poor student" Artur Givargizov
TEACHERS CANNOT ENDURE
Everyone knows that teachers hate each other, they only pretend that they love, because everyone considers their subject to be the most important. And the most important thing is the Russian language teacher. Therefore, she asked an essay on the theme "The most important subject." It was enough to write just one sentence: “The most important subject is the Russian language”, even with mistakes, and get an A; and everyone did so, except for Seryozha; because Seryozha did not understand what kind of objects were being discussed at all, he thought that the object was something solid, and wrote about a lighter.
“The most important subject, the teacher read aloud by Seryozha's essay, is a lighter. You can't light a cigarette without a lighter. " Just think, she stopped, you can't light a cigarette. I asked a passerby for a light, and that was all.
And if in the desert? Seryozha objected calmly.
You can light a cigarette in the desert and from the sand, the teacher calmly answered. Hot sand in the desert.
Okay, Seryozha agreed calmly, but in the tundra, at minus 50 ??
In the tundra, yes, the Russian language teacher agreed.
Then why two? asked Seryozha.
- Because we are not in the tundra, the Russian language teacher sighed calmly. And not in the tundra, she suddenly cried, the most important subject is the great and mighty Russian language !!!
RESULTS of the All-Russian competition "Living Classics"
19th century
1. Gogol N.V. "Taras Bulba" (2), "The Enchanted Place", "The Inspector General", "The Night Before Christmas" (3), "Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka".
2. Chekhov A.P. “Thick and Thin” (3), “Chameleon”, “Burbot”, “Joy”, “Summer Residents”.
3. Tolstoy L.N. "War and Peace" (excerpts from "Petya Rostov", "Before the Battle", "Death of Petya", Natasha Rostova's monologue (5)), "The Lion and the Dog"
4. Turgenev I.S. Poem in prose "Doves", "Sparrow" (2), "Shchi", "Russian language".
5. Pushkin A.S. "The young lady-peasant" (3).
Aksakov S.T. "Early summer".
Glinka F.N. "Partisan Davydov".
Dostoevsky F.M. "Netochka Nezvanova".
Korolenko V. "The Blind Musician".
Ostrovsky N.A. "Storm".
20th century
1. Green A. "Scarlet Sails" (7)
2. Paustovsky K.G. "Basket with spruce cones”(3),“ The Old Chef ”,“ The Tenants of the Old House ”.
3. Platonov A.P. "Unknown flower" (2), "Flower on the ground"
4. M. Gorky (1), "Tales of Italy"
5. Kuprin A.I. (2)
Alekseevich S. "The Last Witnesses"
Aitmatov Ch.T. "Plakha"
Bunin I.A. "Lapti"
Zakrutkin V. "Human Mother"
Rasputin V.G. "French lessons".
Tolstoy A. N. "Nikita's Childhood"
Sholokhov M.A. "Nakhalenok".
Shmelev I.S. "The Lord's Summer", an excerpt from the chapter "Conversation"
Troepolsky G.N. "White Bim Black Ear"
Fadeev A. "Young Guard" excerpt "Mom"
Original work (search engines do not provide links by title)
"The Tale of Aimio, the North Wind and the Fairy of the Taka-tik River"
Children's literature
Alexandrova T. "Traffic light"
Gaidar A.P. "Distant countries", "Hot stone".
Georgiev S. "Sasha + Tanya"
Zheleznikov V.K. "Scarecrow"
Nosov N. "Fedina's problem"
Pivovarova I. "Day of Nature Protection"
Black Sasha "Diary of the pug Mickey"
Foreign literature
1. Antoine de Saint-Exupery " The little Prince" (4).
2. Hugo V. "Les Miserables".
3. Lindgren A. "Peppy, Long Stocking."
4. Sand J. "What Flowers Talk About".
5. S.-Thompson "Lobo".
6. Twain M. "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer"
7. Wilde O. "The Boy Star".
8. Chapek Karel "A Dog's Life".
For example, Lev Kassil became famous for his book "Conduit and Schvambrania", Nikolai Nosov - for his novels about Dunno, Vitaly Bianki - for "Forest newspaper", Yuri Sotnik - for the story "How I was independent."
But Radiy Pogodin does not have such a book. Even his story "Dubravka", the story "Turn on the Northern Lights", the story "Chizhi"
After "Scarlet" Yuri Koval began to write one after another his wonderful stories and novels: "The Adventures of Vasya Kurolesov", "Napoleon III underdog", "Five Abducted Monks", "Wormwood Tales". The novel "Suer-Vyer".
Well, Lizaveta Grigorievna, I saw young Berestov; looked enough; were together all day.
Like this? Tell me, tell me in order.
Excuse me: let's go, I, Anisya Egorovna, Nenila, Dunka
Okay, I know. Well then?
Let me tell you everything in order. So we came to dinner itself. The room was full of people. There were Kolbinsky, Zakharyevsky, a clerk with her daughters, Khlupinsky
Well! and Berestov?
Wait, sir. So we sat down at the table, the clerk in the first place, I am next to her, and the daughters sulked, but I don't give a damn about them
Ah Nastya, how boring you are with your eternal details!
How impatient you are! Well, we left the table and we sat for three hours, and the dinner was glorious; blue, red and striped blancmange cake So we left the table and went into the garden to play with the burners, and the young master came here.
Well? is it true that he is so handsome?
Surprisingly good, handsome, you might say. Slender, tall, full cheek blush
Right? And I thought that his face was pale. What? How did he seem to you? Sad, thoughtful?
What do you? Yes, I have never seen such a madman. He took it into his head to run into the burners with us.
Run into the burners with you! Impossible!
It is very possible! What else did he invent! Catch, and kiss well!
Your will, Nastya, you are lying.
Your will, I'm not lying. I got rid of him violently. The whole day was spent with us.
But how, they say, he is in love and does not look at anyone?
I don't know, sir, but he looked at me too much, and at Tanya, the clerk's daughter, too; Yes, and on Pasha Kolbinskaya, but it's a sin to say, he offended no one, such a mischievous person!
It is amazing! And what do you hear about him in the house?
The master, they say, is wonderful: so kind, so cheerful. One thing is not good: he likes to chase girls too much. Yes, for me, this is not a problem: it will settle down over time.
How I would like to see him! said Lisa with a sigh.
What's so tricky about that? Tugilovo is not far from us, only three miles: go for a walk in that direction, or ride on horseback; you will meet him faithfully. Every day, early in the morning, he goes hunting with a gun.
No, not good. He might think I'm chasing him. Besides, our fathers are in a quarrel, and I still won't be able to meet him Oh, Nastya! Do you know what? I'll dress up as a peasant!
And indeed; put on a thick shirt, a sundress, and boldly go to Tugilovo; I can assure you that Berestov will not miss you.
And I can speak very well here. Ah, Nastya, dear Nastya! What a glorious invention!
Victor Golyavkin
THAT'S WHAT IS INTERESTING!
When Goga started going to first grade, he knew only two letters: O circle, and T - hammer. And that's all. I did not know any other letters. And he could not read. Grandma tried to teach him, but he immediately came up with a trick: - Now, now, granny, I'll wash the dishes for you. And he immediately ran to the kitchen to wash the dishes. And the old grandmother forgot about her studies and even bought him gifts for helping with the household. And Gogin's parents were on a long business trip and hoped for their grandmother. And of course, they didn’t know that their son hadn’t learned to read yet. But Goga often washed the floor and dishes, went to buy bread, and his grandmother praised him in every possible way in letters to his parents. And I read to him aloud. And Goga, sitting comfortably on the sofa, listened with closed eyes... "Why should I learn to read," he reasoned, if my grandmother reads to me aloud. He didn't try. And in class, he dodged as best he could. The teacher says to him: - Read it here. He pretended to read, while he himself recounted from memory what his grandmother had read to him. The teacher stopped him. To the laughter of the class, he said: - If you want, I better close the window so that there is no blow. Or: “I’m so dizzy that I’m about to fall down ... He pretended so skillfully that one day his teacher sent him to the doctor. The doctor asked: - How is your health? “Bad,” said Goga. - What hurts? - Everything. - Well, then go to class. - Why? - Because nothing hurts you. - How do you know? - How do you know that? - the doctor laughed. And he slightly pushed Goga towards the exit. Goga never pretended to be sick again, but continued to evade. And the efforts of classmates have led nowhere. First, Masha, an excellent student, was attached to it.
- Let's study seriously, - Masha told him. - When? - asked Gog. - Yeah right now. “I’ll come now,” said Goga. And he left and never came back. Then Grisha, an excellent student, was attached to him. They stayed in the classroom. But as soon as Grisha opened the ABC book, Goga crawled under the desk. - Where are you going? - asked Grisha. “Come here,” Goga called. - Why? - And here no one will interfere with us. - Yah you! - Grisha, of course, was offended and immediately left. No one else was attached to it.
As time went. He dodged. Gogh's parents arrived and found that their son could not read a single line. The father grabbed his head, and the mother grabbed the book she had brought to her child. “Now, every evening,” she said, “I will read this wonderful book out loud to my son. Grandmother said: - Yes, yes, I also read interesting books aloud to Gogochka every evening. But the father said: - You did it very in vain. Our Gogochka is so lazy that he cannot read a single line. I ask everyone to retire to the meeting. And dad, along with grandmother and mom, retired to the meeting. And Goga was at first worried about the meeting, and then calmed down when his mother began to read to him from a new book. And he even swayed his legs with pleasure and almost spat on the carpet. But he didn't know what this meeting was! What was decided there! So Mom read him a page and a half after the meeting. And he, dangling his legs, naively imagined that it would continue this way. But when my mother stopped at the most interesting place, he again became agitated. And when she handed him the book, he became even more worried. “Then read it yourself,” his mother told him. He immediately suggested: - Let me, mommy, wash the dishes. And he ran to wash the dishes. But even after that, my mother refused to read. He ran to his father. The father strictly told him never to make such requests to him again. He shoved the book to his grandmother, but she yawned and dropped it from her hands. He picked up the book from the floor and gave it to grandmother again. But she again dropped it from her hands. No, she had never fallen asleep so quickly in her chair before! "Is she really, - thought Goga," she is asleep, or was she assigned to pretend at the meeting? " Goga tugged at her, shook her, but the grandmother did not even think to wake up. And he so wanted to know what happens next in this book! In desperation, he sat down on the floor and began to examine the pictures. But from the pictures it was difficult to understand what was going on there. He brought the book to class. But his classmates refused to read to him. Not even that: Masha immediately left, and Grisha defiantly crawled under the desk. Goga stuck to the high school student, but he clicked his nose and laughed. How to continue to be? After all, he will never know what is written next in the book until he reads it.
All that remained was to study. Read it yourself. That's what home meeting means! That's what the public means! He soon read the whole book and many other books, but out of habit he never forgot to go for bread, wash the floor or wash the dishes. That's what's interesting!
Victor Golyavkin
TWO GIFTS
On his birthday, dad gave Alyosha a pen with a gold nib. The golden words were engraved on the handle: "Alyosha on his father's birthday." The next day Alyosha went to school with his new pen. He was very proud: after all, not everyone in the class has a pen with a gold nib and gold letters! And then the teacher forgot her pen at home and asked the children for a while. And Alyosha was the first to give her his treasure. And at the same time he thought: "Maria Nikolaevna will definitely notice what a wonderful pen he has, read the inscription and say something like:" Oh, what a beautiful handwriting it is! " on a golden pen, Maria Nikolaevna, the most real golden one! "But the teacher did not look at the pen and said nothing like that. She asked Alyosha for a lesson, but he did not learn it. And then Maria Nikolaevna put a two in the magazine with a golden pen and returned the pen. Alyosha, looking in bewilderment at his golden pen, said: - How does it happen? .. This is how it happens! .. - What are you talking about, Alyosha? - the teacher did not understand. - About the golden feather ... - said Alyosha. can I put twos with a gold pen?
- So, today you do not have golden knowledge, - said the teacher. - It turns out that dad gave me a pen so that they could give me deuces? - said Alyosha. - That's the number! What kind of gift is this ?! The teacher smiled and said: - Dad gave you a pen, and you made today's present yourself.
FAST, FAST! (V. Golyavkin)
Heading 5 Heading 615
Texts for memorization for the competition "Live Classics-2017"
V. Rozov "Wild Duck" from the cycle "Touching War")
The food was bad, I was always hungry. Sometimes food was given once a day, and then in the evening. Oh, how I was hungry! And on one of these days, when dusk was already approaching, and there was not yet a crumb in our mouths, we, about eight fighters, sat on the high grassy bank of a quiet river and almost whined. Suddenly we see, without a gymnast. Holding something in his hands. Another of our comrades is running to us. I ran up. The face is radiant. The package is his shirt, and something is wrapped in it.
Look! - Boris exclaims triumphantly. He unfolds a tunic, and in it ... a live wild duck.
I see: sitting, hiding behind a bush. I took off my shirt and - hop! Have food! Let's fry.
The duck was not strong, young. Turning her head to the sides, she looked at us with amazed beads of eyes. She simply could not understand what kind of strange cute creatures surround her and look at her with such admiration. She didn’t pull away, didn’t quack, didn’t stretch her neck to slip out of the hands that held her. No, she looked about her with grace and curiosity. Beautiful duck! And we are rude, uncleanly shaven, hungry. Everyone admired the beauty. And a miracle happened, as in a good fairy tale. Somehow he just said:
Let's let go!
Several logical remarks were thrown, like: "What's the point, there are eight of us, and she is so small", "Still to mess around!", "Borya, bring her back." And, no longer covering anything, Boris carefully carried the duck back. Returning, he said:
I let her into the water. Dived. And where I surfaced, I did not see. I waited and waited to see, but did not see. It's getting dark.
When life wraps me around, when you start cursing everyone and everything, you lose faith in people and you want to shout, as I once heard the cry of one very famous person: "I don't want to be with people, I want with dogs!" - in these moments of disbelief and despair, I remember the wild duck and think: no, no, you can believe in people. It will all pass, everything will be fine.
They may tell me; "Well, yes, it was you, intellectuals, artists, everything can be expected about you." No, in the war everything got mixed up and turned into one whole - one and invisible. In any case, the one where I served. There were two thieves in our group who had just been released from prison. One proudly told how he managed to steal a crane. Apparently he was talented. But he also said: "Let go!"
Parable of Life - Values of Life
Once a sage, standing in front of his disciples, did the following. He took a large glass vessel and filled it to the brim with large stones. Having done this, he asked the disciples if the vessel was full. All confirmed that it was full.
Then the sage took a box with small stones, poured it into the vessel and gently shook it several times. Pebbles rolled into the gaps between the large stones and filled them. After that, he again asked the disciples if the vessel was now full. They again confirmed the fact - full.
Finally, the sage took a box of sand from the table and poured it into the vessel. The sand, of course, filled the last gaps in the vessel.
Now, - the sage turned to his disciples, - I would like you to be able to recognize your life in this vessel!
Large stones represent important things in life: your family, your loved one, your health, your children - those things that, even without everything else, can still fill your life. Small stones represent less important things, such as your job, your apartment, your house, or your car. The sand symbolizes the little things of life, the daily hustle and bustle. If you fill your vessel with sand first, then there will be no room for larger stones.
Also in life - if you spend all your energy on small things, then there will be nothing left for big things.
Therefore, pay attention first of all to important things - find time for your children and loved ones, watch your health. You still have plenty of time for work, for home, for celebrations and everything else. Watch out for your big stones - only they have a price, everything else is just sand.
A. Green. Scarlet Sails
She sat up with her legs tucked up with her hands around her knees. Bending attentively to the sea, she looked at the horizon with large eyes, in which there was no longer anything grown-up - the eyes of a child. Everything that she had been waiting for so long and ardently was done there - at the end of the world. She saw an underwater hill in the land of distant depths; climbing plants streamed upward from its surface; fanciful flowers shone among their round leaves, pierced by a stem at the edge. The top leaves glistened on the ocean surface; the one who knew nothing, as Assol knew, saw only awe and brilliance.
A ship rose from the thicket; it surfaced and came to a standstill in the middle of dawn. From this distance he could be seen clearly, like clouds. Throwing mirth, he blazed like wine, rose, blood, lips, crimson velvet and crimson fire. The ship went straight to Assol. The wings of the foam fluttered under the powerful thrust of its keel; already, getting up, the girl pressed her hands to her chest, as the wonderful play of light turned into a swell; the sun rose, and the bright fullness of the morning pulled away the covers from everything that was still basking, stretching on the sleepy ground.
The girl sighed and looked around. The music ceased, but Assol was still at the mercy of her sonorous chorus. This impression gradually weakened, then it became a memory and, finally, just fatigue. She lay down on the grass, yawned and, blissfully closing her eyes, fell asleep - truly, strong, like a young nut, sleep, without care or dreams.
She was awakened by a fly wandering over her bare foot. Restlessly turning her leg, Assol woke up; sitting, she pinned up her disheveled hair, so Gray's ring reminded of itself, but considering it no more than a stalk stuck between her fingers, she straightened it; since the hindrance did not disappear, she impatiently raised her hand to her eyes and straightened up, instantly jumping up with the force of a splashing fountain.
Gray's radiant ring glittered on her finger, as if on someone else's - she could not admit hers at that moment, did not feel her finger. “Whose thing is this? Whose joke? she cried swiftly. - Am I dreaming? Maybe I found it and forgot it? " Grasping her right hand, on which there was a ring, with her left hand, she looked around in amazement, staring at the sea and the green thickets; but no one moved, no one lurked in the bushes, and there was no sign in the blue, far-off lit sea, and blush covered Assol, and the voices of the heart said a prophetic "yes." There were no explanations for what had happened, but without words and thoughts she found them in her strange feeling, and the ring had already become close to her. Trembling, she pulled it off her finger; holding in a handful like water, she examined him - with all her soul, with all her heart, with all the glee and clear superstition of her youth, then, hiding behind her bodice, Assol buried her face in her palms, from under which a smile was irresistibly torn, and, lowering her head, slowly went the way back.
So - by chance, as people who can read and write say - Gray and Assol found each other on the morning of a summer day full of inevitability.
"A note". Tatiana Petrosyan
The note had the most harmless appearance.
In it, according to all gentlemanly laws, an ink face and a friendly explanation should have been found: "Sidorov is a goat."
So Sidorov, not suspecting that he was thin, instantly unfolded the message ... and was dumbfounded.
Inside it was written in large, beautiful handwriting: "Sidorov, I love you!"
In the roundness of his handwriting, Sidorov felt a mockery. Who wrote this to him?
Squinting, he looked around the classroom. The author of the note was bound to reveal himself. But the main enemies of Sidorov this time for some reason did not grin maliciously.
(As they usually grinned. But this time - no.)
But Sidorov immediately noticed that Vorobyov was looking at him without blinking. It doesn't just look like that, but with meaning!
There was no doubt: she wrote the note. But then it turns out that Vorobyova loves him ?!
And then Sidorov's thought came to a dead end and began to hammer helplessly, like a fly in a glass. WHAT DOES LOVE MEAN ??? What consequences will this entail and how can Sidorov be now? ..
"Let's reason logically," Sidorov reasoned logically. "What, for example, do I love? Pears! I love - it means I always want to eat ..."
At this moment, Vorobyova turned back to him and licked her lips bloodthirsty. Sidorov froze. He was struck by her long not trimmed ... well, yes, real claws! For some reason, I remembered how in the buffet Vorobyova eagerly gnawed at a bony chicken leg ...
"We need to pull ourselves together," Sidorov pulled himself together. (Hands turned out to be dirty. But Sidorov ignored the little things.) "I love not only pears, but also my parents. However, there can be no question of eating them. Mom. bakes sweet pies. Dad often wears me around his neck. And I love them for that ... "
Then Vorobyova turned around again, and Sidorov thought with longing that now he would have to bake sweet pies for her day-and-day and wear it around his neck to school in order to justify such a sudden and insane love. He looked closely and found that Vorobyova was not thin and it would be difficult to wear her.
"All is not lost yet," Sidorov did not give up. "I also love our dog Bobik. Especially when I train him or take him out for a walk ..." and then he will take you out for a walk, holding tightly to the leash and not allowing you to deviate either to the right or to the left ...
"... I love the cat Murka, especially when you blow right into her ear ..." Sidorov thought in despair, "no, that's not that ... I like to catch flies and put them in a glass ... but that's too much ... I love toys that you can break and see what's inside ... "
The last thought made Sidorov feel bad. There was only one salvation. He hastily tore a piece of paper out of his notebook, compressed his lips resolutely and in a firm hand wrote out the menacing words: "Vorobyova, I love you too." Let her get scared.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Ch.Aitmatov. "And the day lasts longer than a century"
In this confrontation of feelings, she suddenly saw, crossing a gentle ridge, a large herd of camels freely grazing along the wide valley of Naiman-Ana hit her Akmaya, set off with all her might, and at first she was downright choked with joy that she had finally found the herd, then I was frightened, a chill broke through, it became so scary that I would now see my son turned into a mankurt. Then she was overjoyed again and did not really understand what was happening to her.
Here it is grazing, a flock, but where is the shepherd? Must be around here somewhere. And she saw a man on the other side of the valley. From a distance it was impossible to discern who he was. The shepherd stood with a long staff, holding a riding camel with luggage on a leash behind him, and calmly looked from under his pulled-on hat at its approach.
And when she approached, when she recognized her son, Naiman-Ana did not remember how she rolled off the back of the camel. It seemed to her that she fell, but before that!
My son, dear! And I'm looking for you all around! - She rushed to him as through the thicket separating them. - I'm your mother!
And she immediately understood everything and sobbed, trampling the ground with her feet, bitterly and terribly, curling her spasmodically jumping lips, trying to stop and unable to cope with herself. To stay on her feet, she tenaciously grabbed the shoulder of the indifferent son and kept crying and crying, deafened by grief, which had long loomed and now collapsed, crushing and burying her. And, crying, she peered through the tears, through the stuck strands of gray wet hair, through the trembling fingers with which she smeared the road dirt on her face, into the familiar features of her son and kept trying to catch his eye, still waiting, hoping that he would recognize her, because this it's so easy to recognize your own mother!
But her appearance had no effect on him, as if she had stayed here all the time and visited him in the steppe every day. He didn't even ask who she was or why she was crying. At some point, the shepherd took her hand off his shoulder and went, dragging the inseparable riding camel with his luggage, to the other end of the herd to see if the young animals who had started the game had run away too far.
Naiman-Ana remained where she was, squatted down, sobbing, holding her face with her hands, and so sat without raising her head. Then she gathered her strength, went to her son, trying to keep calm. The mankurt son, as if nothing had happened, meaninglessly and indifferently looked at her from under his tightly pulled-on hat, and something like a faint smile slid over his emaciated, roughly weathered, coarse face. But the eyes, expressing a deep lack of interest in anything in the world, remained as before aloof.
Sit down and talk, ”Naiman-Ana said with a heavy sigh.
And they sat down on the ground.
Do you know me? - asked the mother.
Mankurt shook his head.
What is your name?
Mankurt, ”he replied.
This is your name now. Do you remember your former name? Remember your real name.
Mankurt was silent. His mother saw that he was trying to remember, large drops of sweat appeared on the bridge of his nose from the tension and his eyes were clouded with a trembling mist. But in front of him there must have been a deaf impenetrable wall, and he could not overcome it.
What was your father's name? And who are you, where are you from? Where were you born, though you know?
No, he remembered nothing and knew nothing.
What have they done to you! - Mother whispered, and again her lips jumped against her will, and, choking with resentment, anger and grief, she again began to sob, in vain trying to calm herself. The mother's sorrows did not touch the mankurt in any way.
IT IS POSSIBLE TO TAKE EARTH, IT IS POSSIBLE TO TAKE OFF WEALTH, IT IS POSSIBLE TO TAKE LIFE, SHE SPEAKED OUT OUT, - BUT WHO INvented WHO DARE TO TAKE INTO HUMAN MEMORY ?! OH LORD, IF YOU ARE, HOW DID YOU IMPLEMENT THIS TO PEOPLE? IS THERE A LITTLE EVIL ON EARTH AND WITHOUT IT?
And then her lamentations escaped from the soul, long inconsolable cries among the silent endless sarozecs ...
But nothing touched her son, mankurt.
At this time, in the distance, I envisioned a man riding a camel. He was heading towards them.
Who is this? Naiman-Ana asked.
He's taking me food, - answered the son.
Naiman-Ana was worried. It was necessary to hide as soon as possible, until the Ruanzhuang, who showed up inappropriately, saw her. She laid her camel on the ground and climbed into the saddle.
Don't say anything. I'll be there soon, ”Naiman-Ana said.
The son did not answer. He didn't care.
This was one of the enemies who captured the Sarozeks, drove many people into slavery and caused so much misfortune to her family. But what could she, an unarmed woman, have against the fierce warrior Ruanzhuang? BUT HER THOUGHTED ABOUT WHAT LIFE, WHAT EVENTS LEADED THESE PEOPLE TO SUCH CRUELTY, WILDHOOD - TO EAT THE MEMORY OF A SLAVE ...
After scampering back and forth, the Ruanzhuang soon retired back to the herd.
It was already evening. The sun went down, but the glow remained over the steppe for a long time. Then it got dark at once. And the dead night came.
And the decision came to her not to leave her son in slavery, to try to take him away with her. Let him be a mankurt, let him not understand what's what, but it is better to let him be at home, among his own, than in the shepherds of the Ruanzhuans in deserted Sarozeks. So her mother's soul told her. She could not come to terms with what others were reconciled to. She could not leave her blood in bondage. And suddenly, in his native places, his reason returns to him, he suddenly remembers his childhood ...
She did not know, however, that when they returned, the embittered Ruanzhuans began to beat the mankurt. But what a demand from him. He only answered:
She said she was my mother.
She's not your mother! You don't have a mother! Do you know why she came? You know? She wants to rip off your hat and steam your head! - they intimidated the unfortunate mankurt.
At these words, the mankurt turned pale, his black face became gray-gray. He pulled his neck into his shoulders and, clutching his hat, began to look around like an animal.
Don't be afraid! Hold on! - Senior Ruanzhuang put a bow and arrows in his hands.
Aim! Younger Ruanzhuang threw his hat high into the air. The arrow pierced the hat. - Look! - the owner of the hat was surprised. - The memory remained in my hand!
We drove away in a row, without looking back. Naiman-Ana did not take her eyes off them for a long time, and when they disappeared into the distance, she decided to return to her son. Now she wanted to take him with her by all means. Whatever it is
It is not his fault that fate turned around so that his enemies mocked him, but his mother would not leave him in slavery. And let the Naimans, seeing how the ancestors of the captured horsemen mutilate, how they humiliate and deprive them of reason, let them be indignant and take up arms. It's not about the land. The land would be enough for everyone. However, the Ruanzhuang evil is intolerable even for the alienated neighborhood ...
With these thoughts, Naiman-Ana returned to her son and was pondering over how to convince him, to persuade him to flee that very night.
Zholaman! My son, Zholaman, where are you? - Naiman-Ana began to call.
Nobody showed up or responded.
Zholaman! Where are you? It's me, your mother! Where are you?
And, looking around in anxiety, she did not notice that her son, a mankurt, hiding in the shadow of a camel, had already made himself ready from his knee, aiming with an arrow stretched on a bowstring. The reflection of the sun interfered with him, and he waited for the right moment to fire.
Zholaman! My son! - Naiman-Ana called, fearing that something had happened to him. She turned in the saddle. - Do not shoot! - she managed to scream and only just urged the white camel Akmai to turn around, but the arrow whistled briefly, piercing the left side under the arm.
It was a fatal blow. Naiman-Ana bent down and began to fall slowly, clinging to the camel's neck. But first, her white kerchief fell from her head, which turned into a bird in the air and flew with a cry: "Remember whose name you are? What is your name? Your father Donenbye! Donenbye! Donenbye!"
Since then, they say, the Donenbai bird began to fly in the sarozecs at night. Having met the traveler, the Donenby bird flies nearby with an exclamation: "Remember, whose name are you? Whose are you? What is your name? Name? Your father Donenbye! Donenbye, Donenbye, Donenbye, Donenbye! .."
The place where Naiman-Ana was buried became known in the Sarozeks as the Ana-Beyit cemetery - Mother's rest ...
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Marina Druzhinina. Control medicine
It was a great day! The lessons ended early and the weather is fine. We ka-a-ak jumped out of school! Ka-a-ak started throwing snowballs, jumping over the snowdrifts and laughing! I would have had so much fun all my life!
Suddenly Vladik Gusev caught himself:
- Brothers! Tomorrow is a math challenge! You need to prepare! - and, shaking off the snow, hurried to the house.
- Just think, kontrosha! - Vovka threw a snowball after Vladik and collapsed in the snow. - I propose to let it go!
- Like this? - I did not understand.
- That's how! - Vovka stuffed snow into his mouth and swept around the snowdrifts with a sweeping gesture. - Look how much anti-control there is! The drug is certified! A mild cold during the test is guaranteed! Tomorrow we'll be sick - we won't go to school! Great?
- Great! - I approved and also took a counter-control medication.
Then we jumped over the snowdrifts, made a snowman in the form of our head teacher Mikhail Yakovlevich, ate an additional portion of anti-controllers - to be sure - and went home.
In the morning I woke up and did not recognize myself. One cheek became three times thicker than the other, and at the same time a tooth ached terribly. Wow, a slight cold for one day!
- Oh, what a flux! - the grandmother threw up her hands when she saw me. - Immediately see a doctor! School is canceled! I'll call the teacher.
In general, the anti-control agent worked flawlessly. This, of course, made me happy. But not quite as we would like. Anyone who has ever had a toothache, who fell into the hands of a dentist, will understand me. And the doctor also "consoled" at last:
- The tooth will hurt for a couple of days. So be patient and don't forget to rinse.
In the evening I call Vovka:
- How are you?
There was a hiss in the receiver. I could hardly figure out that it was Vovka who was answering:
The conversation did not work out.
The next day, Saturday, the tooth, as promised, continued to whine. Every hour my grandmother gave me medicine, and I diligently rinsed out my mouth. Getting sick even on Sunday was not part of my plans: my mother and I were going to go to the circus.
On Sunday, I jumped up a little light, so as not to be late, but my mother immediately ruined my mood:
- No circus! Stay at home and rinse to get well by Monday. Do not miss classes again - the end of the quarter!
I - as soon as possible to the phone, call Vovka:
- Your anticontrolin, it turns out, is also anticircoline! The circus was canceled because of him! It is necessary to warn!
- He's also antiquinol! - Vovk said hoarsely. - Because of him, I was not allowed to go to the cinema! Who knew there would be so many side effects!
- You have to think! - I was indignant.
- The fool himself! - he snapped!
In short, we completely quarreled and went to gargle: I am a tooth, Vovka is a throat.
On Monday I go to school and see: Vovka! Also, then, healed.
- What's up? - I ask.
- Fine! - Vovka slapped me on the shoulder. - The main thing is that I got sick!
We burst out laughing and went to class. The first lesson is mathematics.
- Ruchkin and Semechkin! Recovered! - Alevtina Vasilievna was delighted. - Very good! Rather sit down and take out clean sheets. Now you will be writing the test that you missed on Friday. In the meantime, we will be engaged in checking the homework.
That's the number! Anticontrolin turned out to be a uniform obdurin!
Or maybe it's not about him?
______________________________________________________________________________________
I.S. Turgenev
Poem in prose "Alms"
Close big city, an old, sick man was walking along a wide carriageway.
He staggered as he walked; his emaciated legs, tangled, dragging and stumbling, walked heavily and weakly, like strangers; clothes hung on him in rags; bare head fell on his chest ... He was exhausted.
He sat down on a roadside stone, leaned forward, leaned his elbows, covered his face with both hands - and through twisted fingers, tears dripped onto the dry, gray dust.
He recalled ...
He recalled how he was once healthy and rich - and how he spent his health, and distributed his wealth to others, friends and foes ... And now he does not have a piece of bread - and everyone left him, friends even before enemies ... Can he really humble himself to beg for alms? And he was bitter in his heart and ashamed.
And the tears kept dripping and dripping, dappling gray dust.
Suddenly he heard someone calling his name; he raised his tired head - and saw a stranger in front of him.
The face is calm and important, but not stern; the eyes are not radiant, but light; a piercing gaze, but not evil.
- You gave away all your wealth, - an even voice was heard ... - But you do not regret that you did good?
“I don’t regret it,” the old man replied with a sigh, “only now I’m dying.
“And there would be no beggars in the world who stretched out their hand to you,” the stranger continued, “there’s no one over for you to show your virtue, could you practice it?
The old man didn’t answer - and thought.
- So now you do not be proud, poor man, - the stranger spoke again, - go, stretch out your hand, deliver you to others kind people an opportunity to show in practice that they are kind.
The old man perked up, looked up ... but the stranger had already disappeared; and in the distance a passer-by appeared on the road.
The old man went up to him and held out his hand. This passer-by turned away with a stern look and did not give anything.
But another followed him - and he gave the old man a small alms.
And the old man bought himself with these pennies of bread - and the piece he had asked for seemed sweet to him - and there was no shame in his heart, but on the contrary: a quiet joy overshadowed him.
______________________________________________________________________________________
Week of enlightenment. Michael Bulgakov
Our military commissar comes to our company in the evening and says to me:
- Sidorov!
And I told him:
- I AM!
He looked at me piercingly and asked:
- You, - he says, - what?
- I, - I say, - nothing ...
- Are you, - he says, - illiterate?
I told him, of course:
- That's right, comrade military commissar, illiterate.
Then he looked at me again and said:
- Well, if you are illiterate, so tonight I will send you to La Traviata [opera by G. Verdi (1813-1901), written by him in 1853]!
- Have mercy, - I say, - for what? That I am illiterate, so we are not the cause of this. We were not taught under the old regime.
And he replies:
- Fool! Why are you scared? This is not a punishment for you, but for your benefit. They will educate you there, you will see the play, so much for your pleasure.
And we just with Panteleev from our company set out to go to the circus that evening.
I say:
- Is it possible for me, comrade military commissar, to leave the circus instead of the theater?
And he screwed up his eyes and asked:
- To the circus? .. Why is this?
- Yes, - I say, - it is painfully entertaining ... The learned elephant will be taken out, and again redheads, French wrestling ...
He waved his finger.
- I'll show you an elephant! Unconscious element! Redheads ... redheads! You yourself are a red-haired redneck! Elephants are scientists, but you, my woe, are unlearned! What is the use of the circus for you? A? And in the theater you will be educated ... Nice, good ... Well, in a word, I have no time to talk to you for a long time ... Get a ticket, and march!
Nothing to do - I took the ticket. Panteleev, he is also illiterate, got a ticket, and we set off. We bought three glasses of sunflower seeds and arrived at the First Soviet Theater.
We see there is a Babylonian pandemonium near the enclosure where the people are admitted. Shaft climb into the theater. And among our illiterate there are literate and more and more young ladies. One was and poked her head at the controller, shows the ticket, and he asks her:
- Excuse me, - he says, - Comrade Madame, are you literate?
And she was foolishly offended:
- Weird question! Of course, literate. I studied at the gymnasium!
- And, - says the controller, - in the gymnasium. Very nice. In that case, let me say goodbye to you!
And took the ticket from her.
- On what grounds, - the young lady shouts, - how is that?
- And so, - he says, - it's very simple, because we only let the illiterate.
- But I also want to listen to an opera or a concert.
- Well, if you, - he says, - want, then come to the Kavsoyuz. All your literate people were gathered there - doctors there, fershala, professors. They sit and drink tea with molasses, so they don't give them sugar, but Comrade Kulikovsky sings romances to them.
And so the young lady left.
Well, Panteleev and I were allowed in without hindrance and were taken directly to the stalls and seated in the second row.
We sit.
The show had not yet begun, and therefore, out of boredom, they ate a glass of sunflower seeds. We sat there for an hour and a half, and finally it got dark in the theater.
I looked, climbing into the main place, fenced of some kind. In a fur seal cap and a coat. A mustache, a beard with gray hair and a strict one. He climbed in, sat down and first of all put on his pince-nez.
I ask Panteleev (although he is illiterate, he knows everything):
- Who will this be?
And he replies:
- Take it, - he says, - zher. He's the most important here. Serious sir!
- Well, I ask, why is he being put behind a fence for show?
- That is why, - he replies, - that he is the most literate in the opera here. Here it is for an example to us, which means that they are exhibited.
- So why did they put him back to us?
- And, - he says, - so it is more convenient for him to dance around with an orchestra! ..
And this same conductor unfolded a book in front of him, looked into it and waved a white twig, and immediately they played violins under the floor. It is pitiful, subtle, well, I just want to cry.
Well, and this conductor really turned out to be not the last person in literacy, therefore he does two things at once - he reads a book and waves a rod. And the orchestra is frying. Further more! For the violins on the pipes, and for the pipes on the drum. Thunder went all over the theater. And then as it barks from the right side ... I looked into the orchestra and shouted:
- Panteleev, but this, God beat me, Lombard [B. A. Lombard (1878-1960), a famous trombonist], who is on our rations in the regiment!
And he also looked in and said:
- He is himself! Beside him, there is no one so cool to punch on the trombone!
Well, I was delighted and shout:
- Bravo, encore, Lombard!
But only, out of nowhere, a policeman, and now to me:
- I ask you, comrade, not to break the silence!
Well, we fell silent.
In the meantime, the curtain parted, and we see on the stage - the smoke is a yoke! Some of them are cavaliers in jackets, and some ladies in dresses are dancing and singing. Well, of course, the booze is right there, and the nine is the same.
In a word, the old regime!
Well, here, then, among others, Alfred. Tozke drinks, has a snack.
And it turns out, my brother, he is in love with this very La Traviata. But he does not explain this only in words, but everything by singing, everything by singing. Well, and she answered him the same.
And it turns out that he cannot avoid marrying her, but only, it turns out, this very Alfred has a father named Lyubchenko. And suddenly, out of nowhere, in the second act he walked onto the stage.
Small in stature, but so imposing, gray hair, and a strong, thick voice - berivton.
And immediately he sang to Alfred:
- Well, so and so, have you forgotten your dear land?
Well, he sang, sang to him and upset all this Alfredo shenanigans, to hell. Alfred, drunk with grief, got drunk in the third act, and he, my brothers, set up a hefty scandal - to this La Traviata.
He scolded her for what the light was on, in front of everyone.
Sings:
- You, - he says, - and such and such, and in general, - he says, - I do not wish to have any more business with you.
Well, that, of course, in tears, noise, scandal!
And she fell ill with grief in the fourth act of consumption. Sent, of course, for a doctor.
The doctor comes.
Well, I see, even though he is in a frock coat, by all indications our brother is a proletarian. The hair is long, and the voice is healthy, like from a barrel.
He went up to La Traviata and sang:
- Be, - he says, - rest, your disease is dangerous, and you will certainly die!
And he didn't even prescribe any recipe, but straightforwardly said goodbye and left.
Well, Traviata sees that there is nothing to do - we must die.
Well, Alfred and Lyubchenko came here, asking her not to die. Lyubchenko already gives his consent to the wedding. But nothing comes out!
- Sorry, says La Traviata, I can't, I must die.
And indeed, the three of them sang, and La Traviata died.
And the conductor closed the book, took off his pince-nez and left. And they all went their separate ways. That's all.
Well, I think: thank God, you have become enlightened, and it will be with us! Boring story!
And I say to Panteleev:
- Well, Panteleev, let's go to the circus tomorrow!
I went to bed and all I dream is that La Traviata is singing and Lombard is quacking on his trombone.
Well, the next day I come to the military commissar and say:
- Allow me, comrade military commissar, to leave the circus tonight ...
And he growls like:
- Still, he says, you have elephants on your mind! No circuses! No, brother, you will go to the Sovprof for a concert today. There you, - he says, - Comrade Bloch with his orchestra will play the Second Rhapsody! [Most likely, Bulgakov means the Second Hungarian Rhapsody by F. Liszt, which the writer loved and often performed on the piano.]
So I sat down, thinking: "So much for the elephants!"
- What is that, - I ask, - will the Lombard fry on the trombone again?
- Necessarily, - he says.
Okaziya, God forgive me, where am I, there he is with his trombone!
I took a look and asked:
- Well, can you tomorrow?
- And tomorrow, - he says, - it is impossible. Tomorrow I'll send you all to the drama.
- Well, and the day after tomorrow?
- And the day after tomorrow back to the opera!
And in general, he says, it's enough for you to wander around the circuses. Enlightenment week has come.
I am mad at his words! I think: that way you will disappear completely. And I ask:
- Well, this is how our whole company will be driven like that?
- Why, - he says, - everyone! There will be no literate people. Literate and good without the Second Rhapsody! It's just you, devils illiterate. And let the competent one go in all four directions!
I left him and thought. I see it's tobacco! Since you are illiterate, it turns out that you must be deprived of all pleasure ...
I thought, thought and came up with.
I went to the military commissar and said:
- Let me state!
- Declare!
- Let me, - I say, - to the school of literacy.
The military commissar smiled and said:
- Well done! - and enrolled me in school.
Well, I was like it, and what do you think you've learned after all!
And now the devil is not my brother, because I am literate!
___________________________________________________________________________________
Anatoly Aleksin. Property division
When I was in ninth grade, a literature teacher came up with an unusual home essay theme: "The main person in my life."
I wrote about my grandmother.
And then I went with Fedka to the cinema ... It was Sunday, and a queue lined up at the cash register, hugging the wall. Fedka's face, in my opinion and in the opinion of my grandmother, was beautiful, but always so tense, as if Fedka was preparing to jump from the tower down into the water. Seeing the tail near the cash register, he narrowed his eyes, which foreshadowed a readiness for emergency action. “I’ll find you on any trail,” he used to say when he was a boy. The desire to achieve their goals immediately and at any cost remained a dangerous sign of Fedka's character.
Fedka could not stand in line: it humiliated him, because it immediately assigned him a certain serial number, and certainly not the first.
Fedka rushed to the checkout. But I stopped him:
– Let's go to the park. This kind of weather!..
– Do you really want to? - he was delighted: there really was no need to stand in line.
– Never kiss me in the yard again, ”I said. - Mom doesn't like it.
– And I really ...
– Right under the windows!
– Exactly?
– Have you forgotten?
– Then I have every right ... - Fedka prepared to jump. - Once it was, then everything! This is a chain reaction ...
I turned towards the house, because Fedka carried out his intentions at any cost and did not postpone it for a long time.
– Where are you going? I was joking ... That's for sure. I was kidding.
If people who are not used to being humiliated have to do this, they feel sorry for them. And yet I loved it when Fedka Trace, a thunderstorm at home, fussed around me: let everyone see what I am nowfull-fledged !
Fedka begged me to go to the park, even promised that he would not kiss me again in my life, which I did not demand of him at all.
– Home! I said proudly. And she repeated: - Only home ...
But she repeated it already in bewilderment, because at that moment I remembered with horror that I had left the composition "The Main Man in My Life" on the table, although I could have easily put it in a drawer or in a briefcase. What if Mom reads it?
Mom has already read it.
– And who am I in your life? - without waiting for me to take off my coat, in a voice that, as if from a cliff, was about to break into a scream, she asked. - Who am I? Not the main person ... This is indisputable. But stillwhich ?!
I stood there in my coat. And she continued:
– I can't take it anymore, Vera! An incompatibility has occurred. And I propose to disperse ... This is indisputable.
– You and me?
– US?! Would you mind?
– And with whom, then? - I sincerely did not understand.
Always impeccably self-possessed, my mother, having lost control of herself, burst into tears. Tears often crying man do not shock us. And I saw my mother's tears for the first time in my life. And she began to console her.
None literary composition probably did not make such a strong impression on my mother as mine. She could not calm down until evening.
While I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, my grandmother came. Mom didn't let her take off her coat either. In a voice that returned to the edge of the cliff, not trying to hide anything from me, she began to speak incoherently, as I once said:
– Vera wrote ... And I read it by accident. "The main person in my life" ... School essay. Everyone in their class will dedicate it to their mothers. This is indisputable! And she wrote about you ... If your son as a child ... Huh? We need to leave! This is undeniable. I can not take it anymore. My mother does not live with us ... And she is not trying to win my daughter away from me!
I could go out into the corridor and explain that before winning me back, my mother's mother would have to win my health, my life, as my grandmother did. And that it would hardly have been possible to accomplish this over the phone. But my mother burst into tears again. And I hid, fell silent.
– You and I must part ways. This is indisputable, - through tears, but already firmly said my mother. - We will do everything according to the law, in fairness ...
– How am I without Vera? - the grandmother did not understand.
– But what about all of us ... under one roof? I will write a statement. To court! They will understand that they need to save the family. That mother and daughter are practically separated ... I'll write! When Vera finishes the school year ... so that she doesn't have a nervous breakdown.
Even here I stayed in the bathroom, not taking seriously the threat about the trial.
…In the struggle for existence, they often do not choose the means ... When I entered the tenth grade, my mother, without fear of my nervous breakdown, fulfilled her promise. She wrote that my grandmother and I should be separated. Disperse ... And about the division of property "in accordance with the existing judicial laws."
– Understand, I do not want anything superfluous! - continued to prove the man squeezed out of the tube.
– To sue the mother is the mostsuperfluous business on earth. And you say: do not need too much ... - she said in an impassive, non-appealable tone.
“We need the one who is needed. You need it when you need it ... You need it while you need it! " - I mentally repeated the words that, like poems engraved in my memory, were all the time on my mind.
Leaving home in the morning, I left a letter on the kitchen table, or rather, a note addressed to mom and dad: "I will be that part of the property that will go to grandmother in court."
Someone touched me from behind. I turned around and saw my dad.
– Go home. We won't do anything! Go home. Let's go ... - he repeated frantically, looking around so that no one would hear.
Grandma was not at home.
– Where is she? I asked quietly.
– Nothing happened, ”Dad replied. - She went to the village. You see, on your piece of paper below it is written: “I went to the village. Don't worry: it's okay. "
– To Aunt Manet?
– Why Aunt Mana? She has been gone for a long time ... I just left for the village. To your home village!
– To Aunt Manet? I repeated. - To that oak? ..
Mother, petrified on the couch, jumped up:
– Which oak tree? You mustn't worry! Which oak tree?
– She just left ... It's okay! - Dad exclaimed. - It's OK!
He dared to calm me down with my grandmother's words.
– It's OK? Has she gone to Aunt Mane? To Aunt Manet? To Aunt Mane, huh ?! - I shouted, feeling that the earth, as it happened before, leaves from under my feet.
The best. Nikolay Teleshov
Once the shepherd Demian wandered across the lawn with a long whip on his shoulder. He had nothing to do, and the day was hot, and Demyan decided to swim in the river.
He undressed and just got into the water, he looked - at the bottom underfoot something glittered. The place was shallow; he dipped in and pulled out from the sand a small bright horseshoe, the size of a human ear. Twirls it in his hands and does not understand what it can be good for.
- Is it possible to shoe a goat, - laughs Demyan to himself, - and then where is such a little one good for?
He took the shoe with both hands at both ends and was just about to try to straighten or break it, when a woman appeared on the shore, all in white silver clothes. Demian was even embarrassed and went into the water up to his neck. Only Demyanov's head looks out of the river and listens as a woman congratulates him:
- Your happiness, Demyanushka: you have found such a treasure, which has no equal in the whole wide world.
- What should I do with him? - Demian asks the silt of water and looks first at the white woman, then at the horseshoe.
- Go unlock the doors as soon as possible, enter the underground palace and take from there whatever you want, whatever you like.
Take as much as you want. But just remember one thing: do not leave the best there.
- What's the best thing about it?
- Lean your horseshoe against this stone, ”the woman pointed with her hand. And again she repeated: - Take as much as you want, until you are satisfied. But when you go back, do not forget to take the best with you.
And the white woman disappeared.
Demyan understands nothing. He looked around: he saw in front of him a large stone on the shore, lying at the very water. He stepped over to him and leaned the horseshoe, as the woman spoke.
And suddenly the stone broke in two, the iron doors opened behind it, opened wide by themselves, and in front of Demyan there was a magnificent palace. As soon as he stretches his horseshoe somewhere, as soon as he leans it against something, all the locks in front of him dissolve, all the locks are unlocked, and Demyan goes, like a master, wherever he pleases.
Wherever it goes, everywhere untold riches lie.
In one place there is a huge mountain of oats, but what: heavy, golden! In another place rye, in a third wheat; such a grain of white-haired Demyan had never seen in a dream.
“Well, business! he thinks. - It's not like feeding yourself, but enough for the whole city for a hundred years, and there will still be! "
"Oh well! - Demyan rejoices. "I have lost my wealth!"
The only trouble is that he ascended here directly from the river, as he was naked. No pockets, no shirt, no cap - nothing; nothing to put in.
Around him there is a great many of all kinds of good, but to fill in what, or what to wrap, or what to carry away - this is nothing. And you can't put much in two handfuls.
"We ought to run home, bring sacks and bring a horse with a cart to the shore!"
Demyan goes on - the rooms are full of silver; further - the rooms are full of gold; even further - precious stones - green, red, blue, white - all shine, burn with semi-precious rays. Eyes run wide; it is not known what to look at, what to wish for, what to take. And what is the best thing here - Demyan does not understand, cannot figure it out in a hurry.
“We must run for the bags as soon as possible,” - only one thing is clear to him. And it’s also a shame that there’s nothing to put even a little into now.
“And what have I, fool, not put on my hat just now! At least into it! "
In order not to be mistaken and not to forget to take the best, Demyan grabbed both handfuls of precious stones of all sorts and went as soon as possible to the exit.
Goes, and pebbles are falling from handfuls! It is a pity that the hands are small: if only each handful and a pot!
He walks past the gold - he thinks: what if it is the best? We must take him too. And there is nothing to take and nothing to take: the handfuls are full, but there are no pockets.
I had to throw off the extra pebbles and take at least a little bit of golden sand.
While Demyan was in a hurry to exchange stones for gold, all his thoughts scattered. He himself does not know what to take, what to leave. It is a pity to leave every little thing, but there is no way to take it away: a naked person has nothing but two handfuls for this. Apply more - falls out of hand. Again we have to pick up and lay. Demyan finally got exhausted and resolutely went to the exit.
So he got out onto the beach, onto the lawn. I saw my clothes, hat, whip - and was delighted.
“I’ll return to the palace now, pour the spoils into my shirt and tie the first sack with a whip! And then I run after the cart! "
He put his jewelry from handfuls into a hat and rejoices, looking at them, how they shine and play in the sun.
He put on his clothes as soon as possible, hung the whip on his shoulder and was about to go back to the underground palace for wealth, but there were no doors in front of him, and a large gray stone still lay on the shore.
- My priests! - Demyan shouted, and even his voice screamed. - Where is my little horseshoe?
He forgot her in the underground palace, when he hastily exchanged stones for gold, looking for the best.
Only now did he realize that he had left the best things there, where now without a shoe you would never and never enter.
- So much for a horseshoe!
In despair, he rushed to his hat, to his jewels, with the last hope: is there not “the best” among them?
But in the cap there was now only a handful of river sand and a handful of small field stones, with which the entire shore is full.
Demyan lowered both his hands and head:
- Here's the best for you! ..
______________________________________________________________________________________
The candle was on fire. Mike Gelprin
The bell rang when Andrei Petrovich had already lost all hope.
- Hello, I'm on the ad. Do you give literature lessons?
Andrey Petrovich peered at the videophone screen. A man under thirty. Strictly dressed - suit, tie. Smiling, but serious eyes. Andrei Petrovich's heart skipped a beat, he posted an ad on the net only out of habit. There were six calls in ten years. Three got the wrong number, two more turned out to be insurance agents working the old-fashioned way, and one mistook literature with a ligature.
- D-giving lessons, ”said Andrei Petrovich, stammering with excitement. - N-at home. Are you interested in literature?
Interested, - the interlocutor nodded. - My name is Maxim. Let me know what the conditions are.
"For nothing!" - Andrei Petrovich almost burst out.
- Pay by the hour, he forced himself to say. - By agreement. When would you like to start?
- Actually, I ... - the interlocutor hesitated.
- The first lesson is free, - Andrey Petrovich added hastily. - If you don't like it, then ...
- Let's go tomorrow, - said Maxim resolutely. - Will ten in the morning suit you? By nine I take the kids to school, and then I'm free until two.
- Arranged, - Andrey Petrovich was delighted. - Write down the address.
- Speak, I will remember.
That night Andrei Petrovich did not sleep, walked about the tiny room, almost a cell, not knowing what to do with his hands, shaking with emotion. For twelve years now he had been living on a beggarly allowance. From the day he was fired.
- You are too narrow a specialist, - said then, hiding his eyes, the director of the lyceum for children with humanitarian inclinations. - We appreciate you as an experienced teacher, but here's your subject, alas. Tell me, do you want to retrain? The lyceum could partially pay the cost of training. Virtual ethics, the basics of virtual law, the history of robotics - you could very well teach this. Even cinema is still quite popular. He, of course, does not have much time left, but for your age ... What do you think?
Andrei Petrovich refused, which he later regretted a lot. New job could not be found, literature remained in a few educational institutions, the last libraries were closed, philologists, one after another, retrained in every way. For a couple of years, he knocked down the thresholds of gymnasiums, lyceums and special schools. Then he stopped. Wasted half a year on retraining courses. When his wife left, he left them too.
The savings ran out quickly, and Andrei Petrovich had to tighten his belt. Then sell the air car, old but reliable. An antique service left over from my mother, behind it things. And then ... Andrei Petrovich felt sick every time he remembered this - then it was the turn of books. Ancient, thick, paper ones, also from my mother. Collectors gave good money for rarities, so Count Tolstoy fed for a whole month. Dostoevsky - two weeks. Bunin - one and a half.
As a result, Andrei Petrovich had fifty books left - the most beloved, re-read a dozen times, those with which he could not part. Remarque, Hemingway, Marquez, Bulgakov, Brodsky, Pasternak ... Books stood on a bookcase, occupying four shelves, Andrei Petrovich daily wiped dust from the spines.
“If this guy, Maxim,” Andrey Petrovich thought randomly, pacing nervously from wall to wall, “if he… Then, perhaps, it will be possible to buy Balmont back. Or Murakami. Or Amadou. "
Nonsense, Andrei Petrovich realized suddenly. It doesn't matter if you can buy it off. He can convey, this is it, this is the only thing that matters. Hand over! To convey to others what he knows, what he has.
Maxim rang the doorbell at exactly ten, minute per minute.
- Come in, - Andrey Petrovich fussed. - Have a seat. Here, actually ... Where would you like to start?
Maxim hesitated, sat down carefully on the edge of the chair.
- Where do you see fit. You see, I'm a layman. Full. I was not taught anything.
- Yes, of course, - Andrey Petrovich nodded. - Like everyone else. Literature has not been taught in general education schools for almost a hundred years. And now they no longer teach in special ones.
- Anywhere? - Maxim asked quietly.
- I'm afraid nowhere. You see, a crisis began at the end of the twentieth century. There was no time to read. First, the children, then the children matured, and their children had no time to read. There is no time even more than parents. Other pleasures have appeared - mostly virtual ones. Games. Any tests, quests ... - Andrey Petrovich waved his hand. - Well, of course, technology. Technical disciplines began to supplant humanitarian ones. Cybernetics, quantum mechanics and electrodynamics, high energy physics. And literature, history, geography receded into the background. Especially literature. Are you following, Maxim?
- Yes, go on, please.
- In the twenty-first century, books stopped printing, paper was replaced by electronics. But even in the electronic version, the demand for literature fell - rapidly, several times in each new generation compared to the previous one. As a result, the number of writers decreased, then they disappeared altogether - people stopped writing. Philologists have lasted a hundred years longer - at the expense of what was written in the previous twenty centuries.
Andrei Petrovich fell silent, wiping his suddenly sweating forehead with his hand.
- It’s not easy for me to talk about it, ”he said at last. - I understand that the process is natural. Literature died because it did not get along with progress. But here are the children, you understand ... Children! Literature was what shaped minds. Especially poetry. By what determined inner world man, his spirituality. Children grow up spiritless, that's what is scary, that's what is awful, Maxim!
- I myself came to this conclusion, Andrei Petrovich. And that's why I turned to you.
- Do you have children?
- Yes, - Maxim hesitated. - Two. Pavlik and Anechka, the weather. Andrey Petrovich, I just need the basics. I will find literature on the net, I will read. I just need to know what. And what to focus on. You learn me?
- Yes, - said Andrey Petrovich firmly. - I'll teach.
He got up, folded his arms over his chest, concentrated.
- Pasternak, - he said solemnly. - It was shallow, it was shallow throughout the land, in all limits. The candle was burning on the table, the candle was burning ...
- Will you come tomorrow, Maxim? - Trying to calm the trembling in his voice, asked Andrey Petrovich.
- Certainly. Only now ... You know, I work as a manager for a wealthy married couple... I run the house, do business, knock out the accounts. My salary is low. But I, - Maxim looked around the room, - I can bring food. Some things, perhaps household appliances. On account of payment. Will it suit you?
Andrei Petrovich involuntarily blushed. It would suit him for nothing.
- Of course, Maxim, - he said. - Thanks. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.
- Literature is not only about what has been written, - said Andrei Petrovich, pacing the room. - It's also how it is written. Language, Maxim, is the very instrument used by great writers and poets. Listen here.
Maxim listened intently. It seemed that he was trying to memorize, memorize the teacher's speech by heart.
- Pushkin, - said Andrei Petrovich and began to recite.
"Tavrida", "Anchar", "Eugene Onegin".
Lermontov "Mtsyri".
Baratynsky, Yesenin, Mayakovsky, Blok, Balmont, Akhmatova, Gumilyov, Mandelstam, Vysotsky ...
Maxim listened.
- Are you tired? - asked Andrey Petrovich.
- No, no, what are you. Please continue.
The day was replaced by a new one. Andrei Petrovich rose up, awakened to a life in which meaning suddenly appeared. Poetry was replaced by prose, it took much more time, but Maxim turned out to be a grateful student. He grabbed on the fly. Andrei Petrovich never ceased to be amazed how Maxim, at first deaf to the word, not perceiving, not feeling the harmony embedded in the language, every day comprehended it and learned it better, deeper than the previous one.
Balzac, Hugo, Maupassant, Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Bunin, Kuprin.
Bulgakov, Hemingway, Babel, Remarque, Marquez, Nabokov.
Eighteenth century, nineteenth, twentieth.
Classics, fiction, science fiction, detective.
Stevenson, Twain, Conan Doyle, Sheckley, Strugatsky, Weiners, Japrizo.
Once, on Wednesday, Maxim did not come. Andrei Petrovich wasted all morning in anticipation, persuading himself that he could get sick. I could not, whispered an inner voice, stubborn and absurd. Scrupulous pedantic Maxim could not. He has never been late for a year and a half. And then he didn't even call. By evening Andrei Petrovich could no longer find a place for himself, and at night he did not sleep a wink. By ten in the morning he was finally worried, and when it became clear that Maxim would not come again, he wandered over to the videophone.
- The number is disconnected from service, - said the mechanical voice.
The next few days passed like one bad dream. Even your favorite books did not save you from acute melancholy and a re-emerging sense of his own worthlessness, which Andrei Petrovich did not recall for a year and a half. Calling hospitals, morgues, obsessively buzzing in my temple. And what to ask? Or about whom? Did a certain Maxim, about thirty years old, did it, excuse me, I don’t know his last name?
Andrei Petrovich got out of the house when it became more unbearable to be within the four walls.
- Ah, Petrovich! - greeted the old man Nefyodov, a neighbor from below. - Long time no see. Why don't you go out, are you ashamed, or what? So you seem to have nothing to do with it.
- In what sense am I ashamed? - Andrey Petrovich was taken aback.
- Well, what's this, yours, - Nefyodov ran the edge of his hand over his throat. - Who came to see you. I kept thinking why Petrovich, in his old age, got in touch with this audience.
- What are you talking about? - Andrei Petrovich felt cold inside. - With what audience?
- It is known from what. I can see these darlings right away. Thirty years, count, worked with them.
- Who is with them? - Andrey Petrovich begged. - What are you talking about?
- Don't you really know? - Nefyodov was alarmed. - Look at the news, they are trumpeting about it everywhere.
Andrei Petrovich did not remember how he got to the elevator. He climbed the fourteenth, with shaking hands fumbled in his pocket for the key. On the fifth attempt, he opened it, sifted through to the computer, connected to the network, flipped through the news feed. My heart suddenly began to throb with pain. Maxim looked from the photo, the lines of italics under the photo blurred before his eyes.
“Caught up by the owners,” Andrei Petrovich read from the screen with difficulty focusing his vision, “of stealing food, clothing and household appliances. Home Robot Governor, DRG-439K series. Defective control program. He stated that he independently came to the conclusion about childish lack of spirituality, with which he decided to fight. He unauthorizedly taught children subjects outside the school curriculum. He hid his activities from the owners. Withdrawn from circulation ... In fact, disposed of .... The public is concerned about the manifestation of ... The issuing company is ready to bear ... A specially created committee decided ... ".
Andrey Petrovich got up. I walked on stiff legs to the kitchen. I opened the sideboard, on the bottom shelf there was an open bottle of cognac brought by Maxim on account of tuition fees. Andrei Petrovich tore off the cork and looked around in search of a glass. I did not find it and jerked out of my throat. He coughed, dropped the bottle, and staggered back against the wall. His knees buckled, Andrei Petrovich sank heavily to the floor.
Down the drain, the final thought came. All down the drain. All this time, he taught the robot.
A soulless, defective piece of iron. I put everything I have in it. Everything worth living for. Everything he lived for.
Andrei Petrovich, overcoming the pain that seized his heart, got up. He dragged himself to the window, tightly wrapped the transom. Now the gas stove. Open the burners and wait half an hour. And that's all.
The doorbell caught him halfway to the stove. Andrei Petrovich, gritting his teeth, moved to open it. There were two children on the threshold. A boy of about ten. And the girl is a year or two younger.
- Do you give literature lessons? - looking from under the bangs falling on her eyes, the girl asked.
- What? - Andrey Petrovich was taken aback. - Who are you?
- I am Pavlik, - the boy took a step forward. - This is Anechka, my sister. We are from Max.
- From ... From whom ?!
- From Max, ”the boy repeated stubbornly. - He ordered to pass. Before he ... like him ...
- It was shallow, it was shallow all over the earth to all the limits! the girl suddenly shouted loudly.
Andrei Petrovich grabbed his heart, swallowing convulsively, stuffed it, pushed it back into the chest.
- Are you kidding? he said quietly, barely audibly.
- The candle was burning on the table, the candle was burning, ”the boy said firmly. “He told me to pass it on, Max. Will you teach us?
Andrei Petrovich, clinging to the doorframe, stepped back.
- Oh my god, ”he said. - Come in. Come in, children.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Leonid Kaminsky
Composition
Lena sat at the table and did her homework. It was getting dark, but it was still light in the room from the snow lying in snowdrifts in the courtyard.
In front of Lena lay an open notebook, in which only two phrases were written:
How I help my mom.
Composition.
The work did not go further. A tape recorder was playing somewhere near the neighbors. It was heard how Alla Pugacheva insistently repeated: "I want so much that the summer does not end! ..".
“But really,” Lena thought dreamily, “it’s good if the summer didn’t end! .. Sunbathe yourself, bathe, and no essays for you!”.
She read the headline again: How I Help Mom. “How do I help? And when is there to help, if they ask so much at home! "
A light came on in the room: it was Mom who came in.
- Sit, sit, I won't bother you, I'll just clean up the room a little. She began to wipe the bookshelves with a rag.
Lena began to write:
“I help my mom with the housework. I clean the apartment, dust the furniture with a cloth. "
- Why did you scatter your clothes all over the room? Mom asked. The question was, of course, rhetorical, because my mother did not expect an answer. She began to put things in the closet.
“I put things in their places,” Lena wrote.
“By the way, your apron should be washed,” my mother continued talking to herself.
“I wash my clothes,” Lena wrote, then she thought and added: “I am ironing”.
“Mom, a button on my dress came off,” Lena reminded and wrote: “I sew on the buttons, if necessary”.
Mom sewed on the button, then went out into the kitchen and returned with a bucket and a mop.
Pushing back the chairs, she began to wipe the floor.
“Get your feet up,” Mom said, wielding a rag dexterously.
- Mom, you bother me! - Lena grumbled and, without lowering her legs, wrote: "My floors."
Something burned from the kitchen.
- Oh, I have potatoes on the stove! - shouted mom and rushed into the kitchen.
“I'm peeling potatoes and making dinner,” Lena wrote.
- Lena, have supper! Mom called from the kitchen.
- Now! - Lena leaned back in her chair and stretched.
The bell rang in the hallway.
- Lena, this is for you! - shouted mom.
Olya, Lena's classmate, entered the room, rosy with frost.
- I do not for a long time. Mom sent for bread, and I decided on the way - to you.
Lena took a pen and wrote: "I go to the store for bread and other products."
- Are you writing an essay? - asked Olya. - Let me see.
Olya looked into the notebook and burst out laughing:
- Wow! Yes, it's all not true! You made it all up!
- Who said you can't compose? - Lena was offended. - After all, that's why it is called: co-chi-no-nie!
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Green Alexander Fourteen Feet
I
- So, she turned you down both? the owner of the steppe hotel asked at parting. - What did you say?
Rod silently lifted his hat and walked; Kist did the same. The miners were annoyed with themselves for having blabbed out last night under the power of the wine fumes. Now the master was trying to make fun of them; at least this last question of his did not hide a smile.
As the hotel disappeared around the bend, Rod said with an awkward grin:
- You wanted vodka. If it weren't for vodka, Kat's cheeks would not have burned with shame for our conversation, even though the girl is two thousand miles away. What does this shark care about ...
- But what special did the innkeeper learn? - Kist objected gloomily. Well ... you loved ... I loved ... loved one. She doesn't care ... Actually, there was this conversation about women.
“You don’t understand,” Rod said. - We did wrong to her: we pronounced her name in ... behind the counter. Well, that's enough about that.
Despite the fact that the girl was firmly in everyone's heart, they remained comrades. It is not known what would have happened in the case of a preference. Heart misfortune even brought them closer; both of them, mentally, looked at Kat through a telescope, and no one is as close to each other as astronomers. Therefore, their relationship was not broken.
As Kist said, "Kat didn't care." But not really. However, she was silent.
II
"He who loves goes to the end." When both - Rod and Kist - came to say goodbye, she thought that the strongest and most persistent in her feelings should return and repeat the explanation again. So, perhaps, eighteen-year-old Solomon in a skirt reasoned a little cruelly. Meanwhile, the girl liked both. She didn’t understand how she could get more than four miles away from her without wanting to return twenty-four hours later. However, the serious appearance of the miners, their tightly packed sacks, and the words that are spoken only in real separation, angered her a little. It was mentally difficult for her, and she avenged it.
“Go,” Kat said. - The light is great. Not all of the two of you will fall to the same window.
Speaking so, she thought at the beginning that soon, very soon the cheerful, lively Cyst would appear. Then a month passed, and the impressiveness of this period transferred her thoughts to Rod, with whom she always felt easier. Rod was big-headed, very strong and not very talkative, but he looked at her so good-naturedly that she once said to him: "chick-chick" ...
III
The direct path to the Solar Quarries lay through a confluence of rocks - a spur of a chain that traversed the forest. There were paths, the meaning and connection of which the travelers learned at the hotel. Most of the day they walked, adhering to the right direction, but towards evening they began to get lost a little. The biggest mistake occurred at Flat Stone, a piece of rock that was once thrown off by an earthquake. From fatigue, the memory of the turns betrayed them, and they went up when they had to walk a mile and a half to the left, and then start climbing.
At sunset, getting out of the dense jungle, the miners saw that their path was blocked by a crack. The width of the abyss was considerable, but, in general, it seemed at suitable places for a horse to jump.
Seeing that they were lost, Kist separated from Rod: one went to the right, the other to the left; Kist climbed to the impassable cliffs and returned; in half an hour Rod returned - his path led to the division of the crack into beds of streams that fell into the abyss.
The travelers came together and stopped at the place where they first saw the crack.
IV
So close, so accessible to the short walkway, was the opposite edge of the abyss that Kist stamped in annoyance and scratched the back of his head. The edge, separated by a crack, was steeply sloping towards a plumb line and covered with rubble, but of all the places along which they went, looking for a detour, this place was the smallest width. Throwing a string with a stone tied to it, Rod measured the annoying distance: it was almost fourteen feet. He looked around: dry as a brush, a bush was crawling along the evening plateau; the sun was setting.
They could have returned, having lost a day or two, but far ahead, below, glittered a thin loop of the Ascend, from the rounding of which to the right lay the gold-bearing spur of the Solar Mountains. To overcome the crack meant to shorten the path for at least five days. Meanwhile, the usual route, returning to their old trail and traveling along the bend of the river, constituted a large Roman "S", which they now had to cross in a straight line.
- Be a tree, - said Rod, - but this tree is not. There is nothing to throw and nothing to grab onto the other side with a rope. There remains a jump.
Kist looked around, then nodded. Indeed, the takeoff run was convenient: it went slightly sloping towards the crack.
- You have to think that a black canvas is stretched in front of you, - said Rod, - that's all. Imagine that there is no abyss.
“Of course,” said Cyst absently. - It's a little cold ... Like swimming.
Rod took the sack off his shoulders and tossed it over; Kist did the same. Now they had no choice but to follow their decision.
“So ...” Rod began, but Kist, more nervous, less capable of bearing expectation, held out his hand distantly.
“First me, and then you,” he said. - These are complete trifles. Nonsense! Look.
Acting rashly to prevent an attack of forgivable cowardice, he walked away, fled and, having successfully kicked, flew over to his sack, bryaknutsya flat on his chest. At the zenith of this desperate leap, Rod made an inner effort, as if helping the one who had jumped with all his being.
The cyst stood up. He was a little pale.
“Done,” said Kist. - I am waiting for you with the first mail.
Rod slowly walked back to the dais, absentmindedly rubbed his hands and, bending his head, rushed to the cliff. His heavy body seemed to burst with the strength of a bird. When he fled, and then gave in, separating into the air, Kist, unexpectedly for himself, presented him falling into the bottomless depths. It was a despicable thought - one of those over which a person has no control. It is possible that it was passed on to the one who jumped. Rod, leaving the ground, inadvertently looked at Cyst - and this knocked him down.
He dropped his chest to the edge, immediately raising his hand and clutching Cyst's arm. All the emptiness of the bottom hooted in him, but Kist held on tight, having managed to grab the falling time on the last thread. A little more - Rod's hand would disappear into the void. The cyst lay down, sliding on crumbling small stones along the dusty curve. His hand stretched out and died from the weight of Rod's body, but, scratching the ground with his feet and his free hand, he held Rod’s squeezed hand with the fury of a victim, with heavy inspiration of risk.
Rod clearly saw and understood that the Cyst was crawling down.
- Let go! - Rod said so terribly and coldly that Kist desperately shouted for help, not knowing to whom. - You will fall, I tell you! Rod continued. “Let me go and do not forget that it was she who looked at you especially.
So he betrayed his bitter, secret conviction. Kist did not answer. He silently redeemed his thought - the thought of Rod's jump down. Then Rod took a folding knife from his pocket with his free hand, opened it with his teeth and thrust it into Cyst's hand.
The hand unclenched ...
Cyst looked down; then, barely restraining himself from falling, he crawled away and pulled his hand with his handkerchief. For a while he sat quietly, holding on to his heart, in which there was thunder, finally lay down and began to quietly shake his whole body, pressing his hand to his face.
In the winter of the following year, a decently dressed man entered the courtyard of Carroll's farm and did not have time to look back when, slamming several doors inside the house, a young girl with an independent look, but with an elongated and tense face, rushed out to him, scaring away the chickens.
- Where is Rod? she asked hastily, barely holding out her hand. - Or are you alone, Kist ?!
"If you made a choice, you were not mistaken," the newcomer thought.
- Rod ... - Kat repeated. - After all, you were always together ...
Kist coughed, looked away and told everything.
The magician's revenge. Stephen Leacock
- Now, ladies and gentlemen, "said the magician," when you are convinced that there is nothing in this scarf, I will take out of it a jar of goldfish. One, two! Ready.
Everyone in the hall repeated with amazement:
- Simply amazing! How does he do it?
But the Clever gentleman, who was sitting in the first row, informed his neighbors in a loud whisper:
- She ... was ... in his ... sleeve.
And then everyone looked delightedly at the Smart Master and said:
- Well, of course. How did we not guess right away?
And a whisper swept across the hall:
- She was up his sleeve.
- My next number, - said the magician, - is the famous Indian rings. Please note that the rings, as you can see for yourself, are not interconnected. Look - now they will connect. Boom! Boom! Boom! Ready!
There was an ecstatic hum of amazement, but the Smart Master whispered again:
- Apparently he had other rings - up his sleeve.
And everyone whispered again:
- The other rings were in his sleeve.
The magician's eyebrows furrowed angrily.
- Now, - he continued, - I will show you the most interesting number. I will take any number of eggs out of the hat. Would any gentleman want to lend me his hat? So! Thank you. Ready!
He pulled out seventeen eggs from his hat, and for thirty-five seconds the audience could not come to their senses with admiration, but Clever bent down to his neighbors in the first row and whispered:
- He has a chicken up his sleeve.
And everyone whispered to each other:
- He has a dozen chickens up his sleeve.
The egg trick failed.
This went on for the whole evening. From the whisper of the Clever Master, it was clear that, in addition to rings, chicken and fish, several card decks, a loaf of bread, a doll bed, a live guinea pig, a fifty-cent coin and a rocking chair were hidden in the magician's sleeve.
Soon, the magician's reputation fell below zero. Towards the end of the show, he made one last desperate attempt.
- Ladies and gentlemen, he said. In conclusion, I will show you a wonderful Japanese trick recently invented by the natives of Tipperary. Would you please, sir, ”he continued, addressing the Smart Master,“ would you please give me your gold watch?
The watch was immediately handed over to him.
- Do you allow me to put them in this mortar and crush them into small pieces? - With a note of cruelty in his voice he asked.
The intelligent one nodded his head in the affirmative and smiled.
The magician threw the watch into a huge mortar and grabbed a hammer from the table. There was a strange crackling sound.
- He hid them up his sleeve, - whispered the Smart.
- Now, sir, ”the magician continued,“ let me take your handkerchief and poke holes in it. Thank you. You see, ladies and gentlemen, there is no deception here, the holes are visible to the naked eye.
The Clever's face was beaming with delight. This time everything seemed really mysterious to him, and he was completely fascinated.
- Now, sir, would you be so kind as to hand me your top hat and let me dance on it. Thank you.
The magician put the cylinder on the floor, did some steps on it, and after a few seconds the cylinder became flat like a pancake.
- Now, sir, please take off your celluloid collar and let me burn it on the candle. Thank you sir. Would you also allow your glasses to be smashed with a hammer? Thank you.
This time, Smyshleny's face took on an expression of complete confusion.
- Well well! he whispered. - Now I absolutely do not understand anything.
There was a hum in the hall. Finally, the magician straightened up to his full height and, casting a scathing glance at the Smart Master, said:
- Ladies and gentlemen! You had the opportunity to observe how, with the permission of this gentleman, I broke his watch, burned his collar, crushed his glasses and danced a foxtrot on his hat. If he allows me to paint his coat with green paint or to tie his suspenders in a knot, I will be happy to continue to entertain you ... If not, the show is over.
The victorious sounds of the orchestra were heard, the curtain fell, and the audience dispersed, convinced that there were still such tricks to which the magician's sleeve had nothing to do.
M.Zoshchenko "Nakhodka"
Once Lelya and I took a box of chocolates and put a frog and a spider in it.
Then we wrapped this box in clean paper, tied it with a chic blue ribbon and put this bag on a panel opposite our garden. As if someone was walking and lost their purchase.
Putting this package near the curbstone, Lelya and I hid in the bushes of our garden and, choking with laughter, began to wait for what would happen.
And here comes a passer-by.
Seeing our package, he, of course, stops, rejoices, and even rubs his hands with pleasure. Still: he found a box of chocolates - this is not so often in this world.
With bated breath, Lelya and I are looking at what will happen next.
The passer-by bent down, took the package, quickly untied it and, seeing the beautiful box, was even more delighted.
And now the lid is open. And our frog, bored of sitting in the dark, jumps out of the box right onto the hand of a passer-by.
He gasps in surprise and tosses the box away from him.
Here Lelya and I began to laugh so hard that we fell on the grass.
And we laughed so loudly that the passer-by turned in our direction and, seeing us behind the fence, immediately understood everything.
In an instant, he rushed to the fence, jumped over it in one fell swoop and rushed to us to teach us a lesson.
Lelya and I asked a snitch.
We screeched across the garden to the house.
But I stumbled over the garden bed and stretched out on the grass.
And then a passerby tore off my ear quite hard.
I screamed loudly. But the passer-by, giving me two more flip-flops, calmly left the garden.
Our parents came running to the scream and noise.
Holding my reddened ear and sobbing, I went up to my parents and complained to them about what had happened.
My mother wanted to call a janitor to catch up with a passerby and arrest him with the janitor.
And Lelya had already rushed after the janitor. But dad stopped her. And he said to her and my mother:
- Don't call the janitor. And there is no need to arrest a passer-by. Of course, it's not the case that he tore off Minka by the ears, but if I were a passer-by, I probably would have done the same.
Hearing these words, mom got angry with dad and said to him:
- You are a terrible selfish!
And Lelya and I were also angry with dad and did not say anything to him. I just rubbed my ear and cried. And Lelka whimpered too. And then my mom, taking me in her arms, said to dad:
- Instead of interceding for a passer-by and thus bringing the children to tears, you would better explain to them what is wrong with what they have done. Personally, I do not see this and I regard everything as innocent child's play.
And dad could not find an answer. He only said:
- Now children grow up big and someday they themselves will find out why this is bad.
And so the years passed. Five years have passed. Then ten years passed. Finally, twelve years passed.
Twelve years passed, and from a little boy I turned into a young student of about eighteen years old.
Of course, I forgot to think about this case. More interesting thoughts then visited my head.
But one day this is what happened.
In the spring, at the end of the exams, I went to the Caucasus. At that time, many students took some kind of work for the summer and left in all directions. And I also took myself a position - a train controller.
I was a poor student and had no money. And then they gave a free ticket to the Caucasus and, in addition, paid a salary. And so I took this job. And he drove off.
I first come to the city of Rostov in order to go to the office and get money, documents and tweezers for punching tickets there.
And our train was late. And instead of morning he came at five o'clock in the evening.
I have deposited my suitcase. And I took the tram to the office.
I come there. The doorman says to me:
- Unfortunately, we were late, young man. The office is already closed.
- How so, - I say, - is closed. I need to get money and a certificate today.
The doorman says:
- Everyone's already gone. Come the day after tomorrow.
- How so, - I say, - the day after tomorrow? Then I'd better come by tomorrow.
The doorman says:
- Tomorrow is a holiday, the office is closed. And the day after tomorrow, come and get everything you need.
I went outside. And I stand. I do not know what to do.
There are two days ahead. There is no money in my pocket - there are only three kopecks left. The city is alien - no one here knows me. And where I stay is unknown. And what to eat is not clear.
I ran to the station to take some shirt or towel from my suitcase to sell in the market. But at the station they told me:
- Before taking a suitcase, pay for storage, and then take it and do whatever you want with it.
Except for three kopecks, I had nothing, and I could not pay for storage. And he went out into the street even more upset.
No, now I would not be so confused. And then I was terribly confused. I walk, wandering down the street who knows where and grieving.
And so I was walking down the street and suddenly I saw on the panel: what is it? Small red plush wallet. And, you see, not empty, but tightly packed with money.
For a moment I stopped. Thoughts, one happier than the other, flashed through my head. I mentally saw myself in a bakery over a glass of coffee. And then in the hotel on the bed, with a bar of chocolate in his hands.
I took a step towards the wallet. And held out his hand for him. But at that moment the wallet (or it seemed to me) moved a little from my hand.
I reached out my hand again and was about to grab the wallet. But he moved away from me again, and quite far away.
Thinking nothing, I again rushed to my wallet.
And suddenly in the garden, behind the fence, there was a childish laughter. And the wallet, tied by a string, quickly disappeared from the panel.
I went to the fence. Some guys literally rolled on the ground with laughter.
I wanted to rush after them. And already grabbed the fence with his hand in order to jump over it. But then in an instant I recalled a long-forgotten scene from my childhood life.
And then I blushed terribly. I moved away from the fence. And walking slowly, wandered on.
Guys! Everything goes on in life. These two days have also passed.
In the evening, when it got dark, I went out of town and there, in the field, on the grass, I fell asleep.
In the morning I got up when the sun came up. I bought a pound of bread for three kopecks, ate it and washed it down with some water. And all day, until the evening, he wandered uselessly around the city.
And in the evening he came back to the field and again spent the night there. Only this time it's bad, because it started raining and I got wet like a dog.
Early the next morning, I was already standing at the entrance and waiting for the office to open.
And now it is open. I, dirty, disheveled and wet, entered the office.
The officials looked at me incredulously. And at first they did not want to give me money and documents. But then they gave it out.
And soon I, happy and radiant, went to the Caucasus.
Green lamp. Alexander Green
I
In London in 1920, in the winter, at the corner of Piccadilly and one side street, two well-dressed middle-aged people stayed. They just left an expensive restaurant. There they dined, drank wine, and joked with artists from the Dryurilen Theater.
Now their attention was drawn to a motionless, poorly dressed man of about twenty-five, around whom a crowd began to gather.
- Stilton cheese! the fat gentleman said disgustedly to his tall friend, seeing that he bent down and peered at the one who was lying. “Honestly, you shouldn't do that much carrion. He's drunk or dead.
- I'm hungry ... and I'm alive, - muttered the unfortunate man, getting up to look at Stilton, who was thinking about something. - It was a faint.
Reimer! - said Stilton. - Here's an opportunity to play a joke. I have an interesting idea. I am tired of the usual entertainment, and there is only one way to joke well: to make toys out of people.
These words were spoken quietly, so that the man who was lying and now leaning against the fence did not hear them.
Raymer, who did not care, shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, said goodbye to Stilton, and whiled away the night at his club, while Stilton, with the approval of the crowd and with the help of a policeman, put the stray man in a cab.
The carriage headed for one of Guistreet's taverns. The poor man's name was John Eve. He came to London from Ireland to look for a service or job. Yves was an orphan, raised in the family of a forester. Apart from elementary school, he received no education. When Yves was 15 years old, his teacher died, the adult children of the forester left - some to America, some to South Wales, some to Europe, and Eve worked for a certain farmer for some time. Then he had to experience the work of a coal miner, a sailor, a servant in a tavern, and for 22 years he fell ill with pneumonia and, leaving the hospital, decided to try his luck in London. But competition and unemployment soon showed him that finding a job was not easy. He slept in parks, on docks, starved and emaciated, and was, as we have seen, raised by Stilton, the owner of the commercial warehouses in the City.
At the age of 40, Stilton tasted everything that a bachelor who does not know worries about lodging and food can taste for money. He owned a fortune of 20 million pounds. What he thought of doing with Yves was complete nonsense, but Stilton was very proud of his invention, since he had the weakness of considering himself a man of great imagination and cunning fantasy.
After Eve drank his wine, ate well, and told Stilton his story, Stilton stated:
- I want to make you an offer that will make your eyes flash right away. Listen: I'm giving you ten pounds on the condition that tomorrow you rent a room on one of the main streets, on the second floor, with a window to the street. Every evening, exactly from five to twelve at night, on the windowsill of one window, always the same, there should be a lighted lamp, covered with a green shade. As long as the lamp burns for the period assigned to it, you will not leave the house from five to twelve, you will not receive anyone and you will not talk to anyone. In short, the work is not difficult, and if you agree to do so, I will send you ten pounds a month. I won't tell you my name.
- If you are not joking, - answered Eve, terribly amazed at the proposal, - I agree to forget even given name... But tell me, please - how long will my prosperity last?
- This is unknown. Maybe a year, maybe a whole life.
- Better. But - dare I ask - why did you need this green illumination?
- Secret! - answered Stilton. - Great mystery! The lamp will serve as a signal to people and things about which you will never know anything.
- Understand. That is, I don't understand anything. Good; chase the coin and know that tomorrow John Eve will illuminate the window with a lamp at the address I provided!
So a strange deal took place, after which the tramp and the millionaire parted, quite pleased with each other.
Saying goodbye, Stilton said:
- Write on demand like this: "3-33-6". Also keep in mind that it is not known when, maybe, in a month, maybe in a year, in a word, completely unexpectedly, people will suddenly visit you who will make you a wealthy person. Why and how - I have no right to explain. But it will happen ...
- Damn it! - Eve muttered, looking after the cab that had taken Stilton away, and thoughtfully twirling his ten-pound ticket. - Either this person has gone crazy, or I am a special lucky one. To promise such a heap of grace, just for the fact that I burn half a liter of kerosene a day.
On the evening of the next day, one window on the second floor of the gloomy house at 52 River Street shone with a soft green light. The lamp was pushed up to the frame itself.
For a while, two passers-by looked at the green window from the sidewalk opposite to the house; then Stilton said:
- So, dear Reimer, when you are bored, come here and smile. There, outside the window, a fool sits. A fool bought cheaply, in installments, for a long time. He will get drunk with boredom or go crazy ... But he will wait, not knowing what. Yes, here he is!
Indeed, a dark figure, leaning his forehead against the glass, gazed into the semi-darkness of the street, as if asking: “Who is there? What should I wait for? Who's going to come?"
- However, you are a fool too, sweetheart, ”said Reimer, taking his friend by the arm and dragging him to the car. - What's so funny about this joke?
- A toy ... a toy made of a living person, - said Stilton, - the sweetest food!
II
In 1928, a hospital for the poor, located on one of the outskirts of London, resounded with wild screams: an old man who had just been brought in, a dirty, badly dressed man with an emaciated face, was screaming in terrible pain. He broke his leg, having stumbled on the back stairs of a dark den.
The victim was carried to surgery department... The case turned out to be serious, as a complex bone fracture caused a rupture of blood vessels.
According to the already begun inflammatory process of tissues, the surgeon who examined the poor fellow concluded that an operation was necessary. It was immediately performed, after which the weakened old man was put on a bed, and he soon fell asleep, and when he woke up, he saw that the same surgeon who had deprived him of his right leg was sitting in front of him.
- So this is how we had to meet! - said the doctor, serious, tall man with a sad look. “Do you recognize me, Mr. Stilton? “I am John Eve, whom you have assigned to watch every day at the burning green lamp. I recognized you at first sight.
- Thousand devils! - muttered, peering, Stilton. - What happened? Is it possible?
- Yes. Tell us what has changed your lifestyle so dramatically?
- I went broke… several big losses… panic on the stock exchange… It has been three years since I became a beggar. And you? You?
- I lit the lamp for several years, - Eve smiled, - and at first out of boredom, and then with enthusiasm, I began to read everything that came to my hand. One day I uncovered an old anatomy that was lying on the shelf of the room where I lived and was amazed. A fascinating land of secrets of the human body opened before me. Like a drunk, I sat all night over this book, and in the morning I went to the library and asked: "What do you need to study to become a doctor?" The answer was mocking: "Study mathematics, geometry, botany, zoology, morphology, biology, pharmacology, Latin, etc." But I stubbornly interrogated, and I wrote everything down for myself as a keepsake.
By that time, I had already burned a green lamp for two years, and once, returning in the evening (I did not consider it necessary, as at first, there was no way out to sit at home for 7 hours), I saw a man in a top hat who was looking at my green window either with annoyance or with contempt. “Eve is a classic fool! the man muttered, not noticing me. "He is waiting for the promised wonderful things ... yes, at least he has hope, but I ... I'm almost broke!" It was you. You added: “Silly joke. You shouldn't have thrown your money. "
I have bought enough books to study, study and study no matter what. I almost hit you on the street then, but I remembered that thanks to your mocking generosity I can become an educated person ...
- So what is next? Stilton asked quietly.
- Farther? Good. If the desire is strong, then the execution will not slow down. A student lived in the same apartment with me, who took part in me and helped me, after a year and a half, to pass the exams for admission to medical college. As you can see, I turned out to be a capable person ...
There was a silence.
- I have not approached your window for a long time, - said Iva Stilton, shocked by the story, - for a long time ... for a long time. But now it seems to me that there is still a green lamp burning ... a lamp illuminating the darkness of the night. Forgive me.
Eve took out his watch.
- Ten o'clock. It's time for you to sleep, ”he said. “You will probably be able to leave the hospital in three weeks. Then give me a call - maybe I'll give you a job in our outpatient clinic: write down the names of the patients who come. And going down the dark stairs, light ... at least a match.
July 11, 1930