When the rehearsal of the boys' choir was over, the singing teacher Boris Sergeevich said:
Well, tell me, which of you gave your mother what on March 8? Come on, Denis, report back.
On March 8, I gave my mother a small pillow for needles. Beautiful. Looks like a frog. I sewed for three days, punctured all my fingers. I made two of these.
We all made two. One - to my mother, and the other - to Raisa Ivanovna.
Why is that all? asked Boris Sergeevich. - Have you agreed to sew the same thing for everyone?
No, - said Valerka, - it's in our circle "Skilled Hands": we pass the pads. First the devils passed, and now the pads.
What other devils? - Boris Sergeevich was surprised.
I said:
Plasticine! Our leaders Volodya and Tolya from the eighth grade spent half a year with us devils. As they come, so now: "Sculp the devils!" Well, we sculpt, and they play chess.
Go crazy, - said Boris Sergeevich. - Pillows! Will have to figure it out! Stop! And he suddenly laughed merrily. - And how many boys do you have in the first "B"?
Fifteen, - said Mishka, - and twenty-five girls.
Here Boris Sergeevich burst into laughter.
And I said:
There are more females than males in our country.
But Boris Sergeevich waved me off.
I'm not talking about that. It's just interesting to see how Raisa Ivanovna receives fifteen pillows as a gift! Well, listen: which of you is going to congratulate your mothers on the First of May?
Now it's our turn to laugh. I said:
You, Boris Sergeevich, are probably joking, it was not enough to congratulate you for May.
But it’s wrong, exactly what you need to congratulate your mothers on May. And this is ugly: only once a year to congratulate. And if you congratulate every holiday, it will be like a knight. Well, who knows what a knight is?
I said:
He is on a horse and in an iron suit.
Boris Sergeevich nodded.
Yes, that was a long time ago. And when you grow up, you will read many books about knights, but even now, if they say about someone that he is a knight, then this means a noble, selfless and generous person. And I think that every pioneer should definitely be a knight. Hands up, who's the knight here?
We all raised our hands.
I knew it, - said Boris Sergeevich, - go, knights!
We went home. And on the way Mishka said:
Okay, I’ll buy sweets for my mom, I have money.
And so I came home, and there was no one at home. And I even got annoyed. For once I wanted to be a knight, but there is no money! And then, as luck would have it, Mishka came running, in the hands of an elegant box with the inscription "First of May". Bear says: - Done, now I'm a knight for twenty-two kopecks. And why are you sitting?
Bear, are you a knight? - I said.
Knight, says Mishka.
Then lend.
Mishka was upset:
I spent every penny.
What to do?
Search, - says Mishka. - After all, twenty kopecks is a small coin, maybe where at least one has fallen, let's look.
And we climbed the whole room - both behind the sofa and under the closet, and I shook all my mother's shoes, and even picked her finger in the powder. I don't have anywhere.
Suddenly Mishka opened the buffet:
Wait, what is this?
Where? I say. - Ah, those are bottles. Can't you see? There are two wines here: in one bottle - black, and in the other - yellow. This is for guests, guests will come to us tomorrow.
Mishka says:
Eh, your guests would have come yesterday, and you would have had money.
How is that?
And the bottles, - says Mishka, - yes, they give money for empty bottles. On the corner. It's called "Glass Reception"!
Why were you silent before? Now we will settle this matter. Give me a jar of compote, it's on the window.
Mishka handed me a jar, and I opened the bottle and poured blackish-red wine into the jar.
That's right, said Mishka. - What will happen to him?
Of course, I said. - Where's the other one?
Yes, here, - says Mishka, - does it matter? This wine and that wine.
Well, yes, I said. - If one was wine, and the other kerosene, then it’s impossible, otherwise, please, it’s even better. Keep the bank.
And we poured the second bottle there as well.
I said:
Put it on the window! So. Cover with a saucer, and now we run!
And we started. For these two bottles we were given twenty-four kopecks. And I bought my mom candy. They gave me two more kopecks in change. I came home happy, because I became a knight, and as soon as mom and dad came, I said:
Mom, I'm a knight now. Boris Sergeevich taught us!
Mom said:
Well, tell me!
I said that tomorrow I will surprise my mother. Mom said:
And where did you get the money?
Mom, I handed over the empty dishes. Here's two pennies in change.
Then dad said:
Well done! Give me two kopecks for the machine!
We sat down to have lunch. Then dad leaned back in his chair and smiled:
Compote would.
I'm sorry, I didn't have time today, - said my mother.
But dad winked at me:
And what's that? I noticed a long time ago.
And he went to the window, took off the saucer and took a sip right from the jar. But what happened here! Poor dad was coughing as if he had drunk a glass of nails. He shouted in a voice that was not his own:
What it is? What is this poison?!
I said:
Dad, don't be scared! It's not poison. These are your two faults!
Here the father staggered a little and turned pale.
What two wines?! he shouted louder than before.
Black and yellow, - I said, - that were in the sideboard. You, most importantly, do not be afraid.
Dad ran to the cupboard and opened the door. Then he blinked his eyes and began to rub his chest. He looked at me with such surprise, as if I were not an ordinary boy, but some kind of blue or speckled. I said:
Are you surprised, sir? I poured your two wines into a jar, otherwise where would I get empty dishes? Think by yourself!
Mom screamed:
And fell on the couch. She began to laugh, so much so that I thought she would feel bad. I could not understand anything, and my father shouted:
Laugh? Well, laugh! And by the way, this knight of yours will drive me crazy, but I'd better rip him out earlier so that he forgets once and for all chivalrous manners.
And dad began to pretend that he was looking for a belt.
Where is he? - Dad shouted, - Give me this Ivanhoe here! Where did he fail?
And I was behind the closet. I've been there for a long time just in case. And then dad was very worried. He shouted:
Is it ever heard of pouring collectible black "Muscat" of the 1954 harvest into a jar and diluting it with Zhiguli beer?!
And my mother was exhausted from laughter. She barely spoke: - After all, it is he ... with the best of intentions ... After all, he is ... a knight ... I will die ... of laughter.
And she kept laughing.
And dad darted around the room a little more and then, for no reason at all, approached mom. He said: - How I love your laughter. And he leaned over and kissed his mother. And then I calmly crawled out from behind the closet.
"Where is it seen, where is it heard..."
During the break, our October counselor Lucy ran up to me and said:
Deniska, can you perform at the concert? We decided to organize two kids to be satirists. Want?
I want it all! Only you explain: what are satirists?
Lucy says:
You see, we have various problems ... Well, for example, losers or lazy people, they need to be caught. Understood? It is necessary to speak about them so that everyone laughs, this will have a sobering effect on them.
I speak:
They are not drunk, they are just lazy.
That's what they say: "sobering," Lucy laughed. - But in fact, these guys will just think about it, they will become embarrassed, and they will correct themselves. Understood? Well, in general, do not pull: if you want - agree, if you don't want - refuse!
I said:
Okay, come on!
Then Lucy asked:
Do you have a partner?
I speak:
Lucy was surprised
How do you live without a friend?
I have a comrade, Mishka. And there is no partner.
Lucy smiled again.
It's almost the same. Is he musical, is your Bear?
No, ordinary.
Can sing?
Very quiet. But I'll teach him to sing louder, don't worry.
Here Lucy was delighted:
After the lessons, bring him to the small hall, there will be a rehearsal!
And I set off with all my might to look for Mishka. He stood in the buffet and ate sausage.
Mishka, do you want to be a satirist?
And he said:
Wait, let me eat.
I stood and watched him eat. He is small himself, and the sausage is thicker than his neck. He held this sausage with his hands and ate it straight whole, did not cut it, and the skin cracked and burst when he bit it, and hot odorous juice splashed from there.
And I could not stand it and said to Aunt Katya:
Give me, please, also a sausage, quickly!
And Aunt Katya immediately handed me a bowl. And I was in a hurry so that Mishka would not have time to eat his sausage without me: I alone would not be so tasty. And so I also took my sausage with my hands and, without cleaning it, began to gnaw it, and hot odorous juice splashed out of it. And Mishka and I gnawed like that for a couple, and burned ourselves, and looked at each other, and smiled.
And then I told him that we would be satirists, and he agreed, and we barely made it to the end of the lessons, and then ran to the small hall for a rehearsal.
Our counselor Lucy was already sitting there, and with her was one boy, about the fourth, very ugly, with small ears and big eyes.
Lucy said:
Here they are! Meet our school poet Andrey Shestakov.
We said:
Great!
And they turned away so that he would not ask.
And the poet said to Lucy:
What is it, performers, or what?
He said:
Was there really nothing better?
Lucy said:
Just what is required!
But then our singing teacher Boris Sergeevich came. He went straight to the piano.
Come on, let's get started! Where are the verses?
Andryushka took a piece of paper out of his pocket and said:
Here. I took the meter and chorus from Marshak, from the tale of a donkey, grandfather and grandson: "Where is this seen, where is it heard ..."
Boris Sergeevich nodded his head.
Dad decides, and Vasya gives up?!
Mishka and I just jumped. Of course, the guys quite often ask their parents to solve the problem for them, and then show the teacher as if they were such heroes. And at the board, no boom-boom - deuce! The case is well known. Oh yes, Andryushka, you got it great!
Chalk lined asphalt into squares,
Manechka and Tanechka are jumping here.
Where is it seen, where is it heard, -
They play "classes" but don't go to class?!
Again great. We really enjoyed! This Andryushka is just a real fellow, like Pushkin!
Boris Sergeevich said:
Nothing, not bad! And the music will be the simplest, something like that. - And he took Andryushka's verses and, quietly strumming, sang them all in a row.
It turned out very cleverly, we even clapped our hands.
And Boris Sergeevich said:
Nute, sir, who are our performers?
And Lucy pointed at Mishka and me:
Well, - said Boris Sergeevich, - Misha has a good ear ... True, Deniska does not sing very well.
I said:
But loud.
And we began to repeat these verses to the music and repeated them probably fifty or a thousand times, and I yelled very loudly, and everyone calmed me down and made comments:
Do not worry! You are quiet! Calm down! Don't be so loud!
Andryushka was especially excited. He completely blew me away. But I only sang loudly, I didn't want to sing softer, because real singing is exactly when it's loud!
... And then one day, when I came to school, I saw an announcement in the locker room:
ATTENTION!
Today, at a big break in the small hall, the performance of the flying patrol of the "Pioneer Satyricon" will take place!
Performed by a duet of kids!
One day!
Come all!
And something immediately clicked in me. I ran to class. Mishka sat there and looked out the window.
I said:
Well, let's play today!
And Mishka suddenly mumbled:
I don't feel like performing...
I was right dumbfounded. How - reluctance? That's it! After all, we were rehearsing! But what about Lucy and Boris Sergeevich? Andryushka? And all the guys, because they read the poster and will come running as one?
I said:
Are you out of your mind, or what? Let people down?
And Mishka is so plaintively:
I seem to have a stomach ache.
I speak:
It's out of fear. It hurts me too, but I don't refuse!
But Mishka was still kind of thoughtful. At the big break, all the guys rushed to the small hall, and Mishka and I could hardly trudge behind, because I also completely lost the mood to speak. But at that moment Lyusya ran out to meet us, she firmly grabbed our hands and dragged us along, but my legs were soft, like a doll’s, and weaved. I must have been infected by Mishka.
In the hall there was a fenced-off place near the piano, and children from all classes, both nannies and teachers, crowded around.
Mishka and I stood near the piano.
Boris Sergeevich was already in place, and Lucy announced in an announcer's voice:
We begin the performance of the "Pioneer Satyricon" on topical topics. Text by Andrey Shestakov, performed by world-famous satirists Misha and Denis! Let's ask!
And Mishka and I went a little ahead. The bear was white as a wall. And I was nothing, only my mouth was dry and rough, as if there was emery.
Boris Sergeevich played. Mishka had to start, because he sang the first two lines, and I had to sing the second two lines. So Boris Sergeevich began to play, and Mishka threw his left hand to the side, as Lucy had taught him, and he wanted to sing, but he was late, and while he was getting ready, it was already my turn, This is how it turned out in music. But I did not sing, since Mishka was late. Why on earth!
Mishka then put his hand back in place. And Boris Sergeevich loudly and separately began again.
He struck, as he should have done, the keys three times, and on the fourth Mishka threw back his left hand again and finally sang:
Vasya's dad is strong in mathematics,
Dad studies for Vasya all year.
I immediately picked it up and shouted:
Where is it seen, where is it heard, -
Dad decides, and Vasya gives up?!
Everyone in the hall laughed, and this made my soul feel better. And Boris Sergeevich went further. He again struck the keys three times, and on the fourth Mishka carefully threw his left hand to the side and for no reason sang again:
Vasya's dad is strong in mathematics,
Dad studies for Vasya all year.
I knew right away that he had lost his way! But since this is the case, I decided to sing to the end, and then we'll see. I took it and finished it:
Where is it seen, where is it heard, -
Dad decides, and Vasya gives up?!
Thank God, it was quiet in the hall - everyone, apparently, also understood that Mishka had lost his way, and thought: "Well, it happens, let him sing further."
And when the music reached the place, he again extended his left hand and, like a record that was "jammed", wound it up for the third time:
Vasya's dad is strong in mathematics,
Dad studies for Vasya all year.
I had a terrible desire to hit him on the back of the head with something heavy, and I yelled with terrible anger:
Where is it seen, where is it heard, -
Dad decides, and Vasya gives up?!
Mishka, you seem to be completely crazy! Are you tightening the same thing for the third time? Let's talk about girls!
And Mishka is so cheeky:
I know without you! - And politely says to Boris Sergeyevich: - Please, Boris Sergeyevich, go on!
Boris Sergeevich began to play, and Mishka suddenly grew bolder, again put out his left hand and on the fourth beat began to cry as if nothing had happened:
Vasya's dad is strong in mathematics,
Dad studies for Vasya all year.
Then everyone in the hall squealed with laughter, and I saw in the crowd what an unhappy face Andryushka had, and I also saw that Lucy, all red and disheveled, was making her way towards us through the crowd. And Mishka stands with his mouth open, as if he is surprised at himself. Well, while the court and the case, I shout out:
Where is it seen, where is it heard, -
Dad decides, and Vasya gives up?!
This is where something terrible started. Everyone was laughing as if stabbed to death, and the Mishka turned purple from green. Our Lucy grabbed his hand and dragged him to her.
She screamed:
Deniska, sing alone! Don't let me down!.. Music! AND!..
And I stood at the piano and decided not to let you down. I felt that it didn’t matter to me, and when the music reached me, for some reason I suddenly threw my left hand out to the side and screamed out of the blue:
Vasya's dad is strong in mathematics,
Dad studies for Vasya all year.
I'm even surprised that I didn't die from this damn song.
I probably would have died if the bell hadn't rung at that time...
I won't be a satirist anymore!
Enchanted letter
Recently we were walking in the yard: Alyonka, Mishka and me. Suddenly a truck drove into the yard. And on it lies a tree. We ran after the car. So she drove up to the house management, stopped, and the driver with our janitor began to unload the Christmas tree. They shouted at each other:
Easier! Let's bring it in! Right! Levey! Get her on the ass! It's easier, otherwise you'll break off the entire spitz.
And when they unloaded, the driver said:
Now we need to activate this Christmas tree, - and left.
And we stayed near the Christmas tree.
She lay large, furry, and smelled so deliciously of frost that we stood like fools and smiled. Then Alyonka took up one branch and said:
Look, there are detectives hanging on the tree.
"Spy"! She said it wrong! Mishka and I rolled like that. We both laughed the same way, but then Mishka began to laugh louder to make me laugh.
Well, I pushed a little so he wouldn't think I was giving up. The bear held his hands to his stomach, as if he was in great pain, and shouted:
Oh, I'm dying of laughter! Investigations!
And, of course, I turned on the heat.
A five-year-old girl, but she says: "detectives" ... Ha-ha-ha!
Then Mishka fainted and groaned:
Ah, I feel bad! Investigations ... - And began to hiccup: - Hic! .. Investigations. Hic! Hic! I'll die of laughter! Hic!
Then I grabbed a handful of snow and began to apply it to my forehead, as if my brain had already started to become inflamed and I had gone crazy. I yelled:
The girl is five years old, to marry soon! And she is "spy".
Alyonka's lower lip twisted so that it crawled behind her ear.
Did I say correctly! This is my tooth falling out and whistling. I want to say "detectives", but I whistle "detectives" ...
Mishka said:
Eka is unseen! She lost her tooth! I've got three that fell out and two are staggering, but I still speak correctly! Listen here: chuckles! What? Really, it's great - chuckles? Here's how easy it comes out for me: chuckles! I can even sing
Oh, green chick
I'm afraid I'll prick.
But Alyonka screams. One is louder than the two of us:
Wrong! Hooray! You say "giggles", but you need "detectives"!
Namely, that there is no need for "investigations", but for "snickers".
And both let's roar. All you hear is: "Detectives!" - "Sighs!" - "Detectives!"
Looking at them, I laughed so hard that I even got hungry. I was walking home and all the time I thought: why did they argue so much, since both are wrong? After all, it is a very simple word. I stopped on the stairs and said distinctly:
No detectives. No giggles, but short and clear: fifks!
That's all!
Paul's Englishman
Tomorrow is the first of September, - said my mother. - And now autumn has come, and you will go to the second grade. Oh, how time flies!..
And on this occasion, - dad picked up, - we will now "slaughter a watermelon"!
And he took a knife and cut the watermelon. When he cut, such a full, pleasant, green crackle was heard that my back turned cold with a premonition of how I would eat this watermelon. And I had already opened my mouth to clutch at a pink watermelon slice, but then the door opened and Pavel entered the room. We were all terribly happy, because he had not been with us for a long time and we missed him.
Whoa who came! - said dad. - Pavel himself. Pavel the Warthog himself!
Sit down with us, Pavlik, there is a watermelon, - said my mother. - Deniska, move over.
I said:
Hello! - and gave him a place next to him.
Hello! he said and sat down.
And we began to eat and ate for a long time and were silent. We didn't feel like talking. And what is there to talk about when there is such deliciousness in the mouth!
And when Paul was given the third piece, he said:
Ah, I love watermelon. Even more. My grandmother never lets me eat it.
And why? Mom asked.
She says that after watermelon I get not a dream, but a continuous running around.
True, - said dad, - That's why we eat watermelon early in the morning. By evening, its action ends, and you can sleep peacefully. Come on, don't be afraid.
I'm not afraid, - said Pavel.
And we all again got down to business and again were silent for a long time. And when mom began to remove the crusts, dad said:
And why, Pavel, haven't been with us for so long?
Yes, I said, where have you been? What did you do?
And then Pavel puffed up, blushed, looked around, and suddenly casually let slip, as if reluctantly:
What did he do, what did he do?.. He studied English, that's what he did.
I was right in a hurry. I immediately realized that I spent the whole summer in vain. He fiddled with hedgehogs, played bast shoes, dealt with trifles. But Pavel, he did not waste time, no, you are naughty, he worked on himself, he raised his level of education.
He studied English and now I suppose he will be able to correspond with English pioneers and read English books! I immediately felt that I was dying of envy, and then my mother added:
Here, Deniska, study. This is not your lappet!
Well done, Dad said. - I respect!
Pavel just beamed.
A student, Seva, came to visit us. So he works with me every day. It's been two whole months now. Totally tortured.
What about difficult English? I asked.
Go crazy, - Pavel sighed.
Still not difficult, - intervened dad. - The devil himself will break his leg there. Very difficult spelling. It's spelled "Liverpool" but pronounced "Manchester".
Well, yes! - I said, - Right, Pavel?
It's a disaster," said Pavel. - I was completely exhausted from these activities, I lost two hundred grams.
So why don't you use your knowledge, Pavlik? Mom said. Why didn't you say hello to us in English when you came in?
I haven't passed "hello" yet, - said Pavel.
Well, you ate a watermelon, why didn't you say "thank you"?
I said, - said Paul.
Well, yes, you said in Russian, but in English?
We haven't gotten to "thank you" yet," Pavel said. - Very difficult preaching.
Then I said:
Pavel, and you teach me how to say "one, two, three" in English.
I haven't studied it yet," Pavel said.
What did you study? I shouted. Have you learned anything in two months?
I learned how to say "Petya" in English, - Pavel said.
Well, how?
Right, I said. - Well, what else do you know in English?
That's all for now," Pavel said.
That I love…
I really like to lie on my stomach on my father's knee, lower my arms and legs and hang on my knee like this, like laundry on a fence. I also really like to play checkers, chess and dominoes, only to be sure to win. If you don't win, then don't.
I love listening to the beetle dig into the box. And I love to get into bed with my dad in the morning to talk with him about the dog: how we will live more spaciously and buy a dog, and we will deal with it, and we will feed it, and how funny and smart it will be, and how it she will steal sugar, and I will wipe the puddles after her, and she will follow me like a faithful dog.
I also like to watch TV: it doesn't matter what they show, even if only one table.
I love to breathe through my nose into my mother's ear. I especially like to sing and always whine very loudly.
I terribly love stories about red cavalrymen, and that they always win.
I like to stand in front of the mirror and make faces like I'm Petrushka from the puppet theater. I love sprats too.
I like to read fairy tales about Kanchil. This is such a small, smart and mischievous doe. She has funny eyes, and small horns, and pink polished hooves. When we live more spaciously, we will buy Kanchil, he will live in the bathroom. I also like to swim where it is shallow so that I can hold my hands on the sandy bottom.
I love to wave red flags and blow "go-dee-go!" at demonstrations.
I love making phone calls.
I love planing, sawing, I know how to sculpt the heads of ancient warriors and bison, and I blinded a capercaillie and a tsar cannon. This is what I love to give.
When I read, I like to nibble on crackers or something.
I love guests. I also love snakes, lizards and frogs. They are so dexterous. I carry them in my pockets. I like to have the snake lying on the table when I have lunch. I love it when my grandmother screams about the frog: "Remove this muck!" - and runs out of the room.
I love to laugh... Sometimes I don't feel like laughing at all, but I force myself, squeeze out laughter - look, after five minutes it really becomes funny.
When I'm in a good mood, I like to ride. One day my dad and I went to the zoo, and I was jumping around him in the street, and he asked:
What are you jumping?
And I said:
I jump that you are my dad!
He understood!
I love going to the zoo. There are wonderful elephants. And there is one elephant. When we live more spaciously, we will buy a baby elephant. I'll build him a garage.
I really like to stand behind the car when it snorts and sniff the gas.
I like to go to cafes - eat ice cream and drink it with sparkling water. She pricks in the nose and tears come out in the eyes.
When I run down the hallway, I like to stomp my feet with all my might.
I love horses very much, they have such beautiful and kind faces.
I like a lot of things!
... And what I don’t like!
What I don't like is dental treatment. As soon as I see a dental chair, I immediately want to run away to the ends of the world. I still don’t like it when guests come, stand on a chair and read poetry.
I don't like it when mom and dad go to the theatre.
I hate soft-boiled eggs, when they are shaken in a glass, crumbled bread into it and forced to eat.
I still don’t like it when my mother goes for a walk with me and suddenly meets Aunt Rosa!
Then they only talk to each other, and I just don't know what to do.
I do not like to walk in a new suit - I'm in it like a wooden one.
When we play red and white, I don't like to be white. Then I exit the game, and that's it! And when I'm red, I don't like being captured. I still run away.
I don't like it when they win.
I don't like when it's my birthday to play "loaf": I'm not small.
I don't like it when guys ask questions.
And I really don’t like it when I cut myself, in addition - to smear my finger with iodine.
I don’t like that it’s crowded in our corridor and adults scurry back and forth every minute, some with a frying pan, some with a kettle, and shout:
Children, do not turn under your feet! Watch out, I have a hot pot!
And when I go to bed, I don’t like it when they sing in chorus in the next room:
Lilies of the valley, lilies of the valley...
I really don't like that on the radio boys and girls speak in old women's voices! ..
What does Mishka like?
Once Mishka and I entered the hall where we have singing lessons. Boris Sergeevich was sitting at his piano and playing something slowly. Mishka and I sat on the windowsill and did not interfere with him, and he did not notice us at all, but continued to play for himself, and various sounds quickly jumped out from under his fingers. They splashed, and it turned out something very friendly and joyful.
I really liked it, and I could have sat and listened like that for a long time, but Boris Sergeevich soon stopped playing. He closed the lid of the piano, and saw us, and cheerfully said:
ABOUT! What people! Sitting like two sparrows on a branch! Well, so what do you say?
I asked:
What were you playing, Boris Sergeevich?
He replied:
This is Chopin. I love him so much.
I said:
Of course, since you are a singing teacher, you love different songs.
He said:
This is not a song. Although I love songs, but this is not a song. What I played is called a much bigger word than just "song".
I said:
What? In a word?
He answered seriously and clearly:
Music. Chopin is a great composer. He composed wonderful music. And I love music more than anything.
Then he looked at me carefully and said:
Well, what do you like? More than anything else?
I answered:
I like a lot of things.
And told him that I love. And about the dog, and about planing, and about the baby elephant, and about the red cavalrymen, and about the little doe on pink hooves, and about the ancient warriors, and about the cool stars, and about the horse's faces, everything, everything ...
He listened to me carefully, he had a thoughtful face when he listened, and then he said:
Look! And I didn't know. Honestly, you're still small, don't be offended, but look - you love so much! The whole world.
Mishka intervened at this point. He pouted and said:
And I love different differences even more than Deniska! Think!
Boris Sergeevich laughed:
Very interesting! Come on, tell me the secret of your soul. Now it's your turn, take the baton! So get started! What do you love?
Mishka fidgeted on the windowsill, then cleared his throat and said:
I love rolls, buns, loaves and cake! I love bread, and cake, and cakes, and gingerbread, even Tula, even honey, even glazed. I love drying too, and donuts, bagels, pies with meat, jam, cabbage and rice. I love dumplings and especially cheesecakes, if they are fresh, but stale is also okay. You can oatmeal cookies and vanilla crackers.
And I also love sprats, saury, pike perch in marinade, gobies in tomato, a part in their own juice, eggplant caviar, sliced zucchini and fried potatoes.
I love boiled sausage right madly, if the doctor's - on a bet that I'll eat a whole kilo! And I love the dining room, and tea, and brawn, and smoked, and semi-smoked, and raw smoked! I love this one the most. I really like pasta with butter, noodles with butter, horns with butter, cheese with holes and without holes, with a red crust or with a white one - it doesn't matter.
I love dumplings with cottage cheese, salty, sweet, sour cottage cheese; I love apples grated with sugar, and then the apples alone, and if the apples are peeled, then I like to eat an apple first, and only then, for a snack, - the peel!
I love liver, cutlets, herring, bean soup, green peas, boiled meat, toffee, sugar, tea, jam, borzhom, soda with syrup, soft-boiled eggs, hard-boiled, in a bag, I can and raw. I love sandwiches with just about anything, especially if thickly spread with mashed potatoes or millet porridge. So ... Well, I won’t talk about halva - what fool does not like halva? I also love duck, goose and turkey. Oh yes! I love ice cream with all my heart. Seven, nine. Thirteen, fifteen, nineteen. Twenty-two and twenty-eight.
The bear looked around the ceiling and took a breath. Apparently, he was already very tired. But Boris Sergeevich looked at him intently, and Mishka drove on.
He muttered:
Gooseberries, carrots, salmon salmon, pink salmon, turnips, borscht, dumplings, although I already said dumplings, broth, bananas, persimmon, compote, sausages, sausage, although I also said sausage ...
The bear sighed and fell silent. It was clear from his eyes that he was waiting for Boris Sergeevich to praise him. But he looked at Mishka a little displeasedly and even seemed to be stern. He, too, seemed to be waiting for something from Mishka: what else Mishka would say. But Mishka was silent. It turned out that they both expected something from each other and were silent.
The first could not stand Boris Sergeevich.
Well, Misha, - he said, - you love a lot, no doubt, but everything that you love is somehow the same, too edible, or something. It turns out that you love the whole grocery store. And only ... And the people? Who do you love? Or from animals?
Here Mishka was all startled and blushed.
Oh, - he said embarrassedly, - I almost forgot! More kittens! And grandma!
Mikhail Zoshchenko, Lev Kassil and others - Enchanted letter
Chicken bouillon
Mikhail Zoshchenko, Lev Kassil and others - Enchanted letter
Mom brought a chicken from the store, big, bluish, with long bony legs. The chicken had a large red comb on its head. Mom hung it outside the window and said:
If dad comes early, let him cook. Will you pass?
I said:
With pleasure!
And my mother went to college. And I took out watercolor paints and began to draw. I wanted to draw a squirrel, how it jumps through the trees in the forest, and at first it turned out great, but then I looked and saw that it was not a squirrel at all, but some kind of uncle, similar to Moidodyr. Squirrel's tail turned out like his nose, and the branches on the tree - like hair, ears and a hat ... I was very surprised how it could have happened, and when dad came, I said:
Guess dad what I drew?
He looked and thought:
What are you, dad? You look good!
Then the father took a good look and said:
Oh, I'm sorry, it must be football...
I said:
You are kind of careless! You're probably tired?
No, I just want to eat. Don't know what's for dinner?
I said:
Look, there's a chicken hanging outside the window. Cook and eat!
Dad unhooked the chicken from the window and put it on the table.
It's easy to say, cook! You can weld. Welding is nonsense. The question is, in what form should we eat it? You can cook at least a hundred wonderful nutritious dishes from chicken. You can, for example, make simple chicken cutlets, or you can roll up a ministerial schnitzel - with grapes! I read about it! You can make such a cutlet on the bone - called "Kiev" - you will lick your fingers. You can cook chicken with noodles, or you can press it down with an iron, pour garlic over it and you get, like in Georgia, "chicken tabaka". Can finally...
But I interrupted him. I said:
You, dad, cook something simple, without irons. Something, you know, the fastest!
Dad immediately agreed.
That's right, son! What is important to us? Eat fast! You have captured the essence. What can be cooked faster? The answer is simple and clear: broth!
Dad even rubbed his hands.
I asked:
Do you know how to make broth?
But dad just laughed.
What is there to know? - He even got a sparkle in his eyes. - The broth is simpler than a steamed turnip: put it in water and wait. when it's cooked, that's all the wisdom. Decided! We are cooking the broth, and very soon we will have a two-course dinner: for the first - broth with bread, for the second - boiled chicken, hot, steaming. Well, drop your Repin brush and let's help!
I said:
What should I do?
Here look! You see, there are some hairs on the chicken. You cut them off, because I don't like shaggy broth. You cut off those hairs while I go to the kitchen and put the water on to boil!
And he went to the kitchen. And I took my mother's scissors and began to cut the hairs on the chicken one at a time. At first I thought that there would be few of them, but then I looked closely and saw that there were a lot, even too much. And I began to cut them, and tried to cut them quickly, as in a barbershop, and clicked the scissors in the air when I went from hair to hair.
Dad came into the room, looked at me and said:
Shoot more from the sides, otherwise it will turn out under the box!
I said:
Doesn't fade very fast...
But then dad suddenly slaps his forehead:
God! Well, we are stupid, Deniska! And how have I forgotten! Finish haircut! She needs to be set on fire! Understand? That's what everyone does. We will set it on fire, and all the hairs will burn out, and there will be no need for a haircut or shaving. Behind me!
And he grabbed the chicken and ran with it to the kitchen. And I follow him. We lit a new burner, because there was already a pot of water on one, and began to burn the chicken on the fire. She burned great and smelled of burnt wool throughout the apartment. Pan turned her from side to side and said: - Now, now! Oh, and good chicken! Now it will burn all over with us and become clean and white ...
But the chicken, on the contrary, became somehow black, all kind of charred, and dad finally turned off the gas.
He said:
In my opinion, she somehow suddenly smoked. Do you like smoked chicken?
I said:
No. She didn’t get smoked, she’s just covered in soot. Come on dad, I'll wash it.
He was downright happy.
Well done! - he said. You are smart. You have good heritage. You are all in me. Come on, my friend, take this chimney sweep chicken and wash it well under the tap, otherwise I'm already tired of this fuss.
And he sat down on a stool.
And I said:
Now, I have it instantly!
And I went to the sink and turned on the water, put our chicken under it and began to rub it with my right hand with all my might. The chicken was very hot and terribly dirty, and I immediately got my hands dirty up to the very elbows. Dad swayed on the stool.
Here, - I said, - what you, dad, have done to her. Doesn't peel off at all. There is a lot of soot.
Nothing, - said dad, - soot only from above. Couldn't it be all soot? Wait a minute!
And dad went to the bathroom and brought me a big bar of strawberry soap from there.
On, - he said, - mine properly! Lather up!
And I began to lather this unfortunate chicken. She took on a rather dazed look. I lathered it pretty well, but it lathered very badly, dirt was dripping from it, it had been dripping for probably half an hour, but it did not become cleaner.
I said:
That damn cock is just smeared with soap.
Then dad said:
Here's a brush! Take it, give it a good rub! First the back, and only then everything else.
I began to rub. I rubbed with all my might and in some places even rubbed the skin. But it was still very difficult for me, because the chicken suddenly seemed to come to life and began to spin in my hands, slide and every second strove to jump out. And dad still did not leave his stool and kept commanding:
Hard three! More dexterous! Hold on to the wings! Oh you! Yes, you, I see, do not know how to wash a chicken at all.
I then said:
Dad, you try it yourself!
And I handed him the chicken. But he did not have time to take it, when suddenly she jumped out of my hands and galloped under the farthest locker. But dad didn't hesitate. He said:
Give me a mop!
And when I filed, dad began to shovel her out from under the closet with a mop. First, he took out the old mousetrap, then my last year's tin soldier, and I was terribly glad, because I thought that I had completely lost him, and he was right there, my dear.
Then dad finally pulled out the chicken. She was covered in dust. And dad was all red. But he grabbed her by the paw and dragged her under the tap again. He said:
Well, now hold on. Blue bird.
And he rinsed it pretty clean and put it in the pan. At this time, my mother came. She said:
What do you have here for the defeat?
And dad sighed and said:
We cook chicken.
Mom said:
Just now dipped, - said dad.
Mom removed the lid from the pot.
Salted? she asked.
But my mother sniffed the saucepan.
Gutted? - she said.
Then, - said dad, - when it's cooked.
Mom sighed and took the chicken out of the pot. She said:
Deniska, bring me an apron, please. We'll have to finish everything for you, would-be chef.
And I ran into the room, took an apron and grabbed my picture from the table. I gave my mother the apron and asked her:
Well, what did I draw? Guess mom! Mom looked and said:
Sewing machine? Yes?
Inside out
Once I sat and sat, and for no reason at all suddenly thought up such a thing that I was even surprised myself. I thought how nice it would be if everything around me was arranged the other way around. Well, here, for example, that children should be the main ones in all matters and adults should have to obey them in everything. In general, adults should be like children, and children like adults. That would be great, it would be very interesting.
Firstly, I imagine how my mother would “like” such a story that I go around and command it as I want, and dad would probably “like” it too, but there’s nothing to say about my grandmother, she would probably spend all day I would have roared. Needless to say, I would show how much a pound is worth, I would remember everything for them! For example, my mother would be sitting at dinner, and I would say to 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! Don't hold your cheek! Thinking again? Are you solving the world's problems? Chew properly! And don't rock in your chair!
And then dad would come in, after work, and he wouldn’t even have time to undress, and I would have already screamed:
Yep, he showed up! You always have to wait! My hands now! As it should be, as it should be mine, there is no need to smear the dirt! After you, the towel is scary to look at. Brush three and do not spare soap. Well, show me your nails! It's horror, not nails! It's 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 right. Now sit down at the table!
He would sit down and quietly say to his mother:
Well, how are you?
And she would also say quietly:
Nothing, thanks!
And I would immediately:
Table talkers! 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 with me like silk, and even when my grandmother would come, I would squint, clasp my hands and wail:
Dad! Mother! Take a look at our grandma! What a view! The chest is open, the hat is on the back of the head! Cheeks are red, the whole neck is wet! Okay, nothing to say! Admit it: did you play hockey again? What is that dirty stick? Why did you bring her into the house? What? Is this a stick? Get her out of my sight right now - to the back door!
Then I would walk around the room and say to all three of them:
After dinner, everyone sit down for lessons, and I'll go to the cinema!
Of course, they would immediately whine, whimper:
And we are with you! And so are we! We want to go to the cinema!
And I would them:
Nothing, nothing! Yesterday we went to a birthday party, on Sunday I took you to the circus! Look! Enjoyed having fun every day! Sit at home! Here you have thirty kopecks for ice cream, and that's it!
Then the grandmother would pray:
Take me at least! After all, each child can bring one adult with them for free!
But I would shirk, I would say:
And people over seventy years old are not allowed to enter this picture. Sit at home!
And I would walk past them, deliberately tapping my heels loudly, as if I didn’t notice that their eyes were all wet, and I would start getting dressed, and I would turn around in front of the mirror for a long time, and sing, and they would be even worse from this. they were tormented, and I would have opened the door to the stairs and said ... But I did not have time to think of what I would say, because at that time my mother came in, the real one, alive, and said:
Are you still sitting? Eat now, look who you look like! Poured Koschey!
.....................................................................
Copyright: Dragoon - stories for children
One evening I was sitting in the yard, near the sand, and waiting for my mother. She probably lingered at the institute, or at the store, or, perhaps, stood at the bus stop for a long time. Don't know. Only all the parents of our yard had already arrived, and all the guys went home with them and probably already drank tea with bagels and cheese, but my mother was still not there... Read...
Once Mishka and I were doing homework. We put notebooks in front of us and copied. And at that time I was telling Mishka about lemurs, that they have big eyes, like glass saucers, and that I saw a photograph of a lemur, how he is holding a fountain pen, he himself is small, small and terribly cute. Read...
I have only fives in the report card. Only four in calligraphy. Because of the blot. I don't really know what to do! I always have blots coming off my pen. I already dip only the very tip of the pen into the ink, but the blots still come off. Just some miracles! Once I wrote a whole page cleanly, cleanly, it's expensive to look at - a real five-page page. Read...
When dad got sick, the doctor came and said: Read ...
Suddenly our door flew open, and Alenka screamed from the corridor... Read...
Boys and girls! - said Raisa Ivanovna. - You did well this quarter. Congratulations. Now you can rest. During the holidays we will arrange a matinee and a carnival. Each of you can dress up as anyone, and there will be a prize for the best costume, so get ready. Read...
All the boys of the 1st class "B" had pistols. We agreed to always walk around with weapons. And each of us always had a pretty little pistol in his pocket and a supply of piston bands to go with it. And we really liked it, but it didn't last long. And all because of the movie... Read...
When I was six or six and a half years old, I had absolutely no idea who I would eventually be in this world. I really liked all the people around and all the work too. I then had a terrible confusion in my head, I was kind of confused and could not really decide what I should do. Read...
Last summer I was at Uncle Volodya's dacha. He has a very beautiful house, similar to the station, but a little bit smaller. Read...
I noticed a long time ago that adults ask very stupid questions to little ones. They seemed to be talking. It turns out as if they all learned the same questions and ask them to all the guys in a row. I am so used to this business that I know in advance how everything will happen if I meet some adult. It will be like this. Read...
Recently we were walking in the yard: Alenka, Mishka and me. Suddenly a truck drove into the yard. And there is a tree on it. We ran after the car. So she drove up to the house management, stopped, and the driver with our janitor began to unload the Christmas tree. They shouted at each other... Read...
This was the case. We had a lesson - work. Raisa Ivanovna said that we should each do according to a tear-off calendar, whoever figured it out. I took a piece of cardboard, pasted it over with green paper, cut a slit in the middle, attached a matchbox to it, and put a pile of white leaves on the box, adjusted it, glued it, trimmed it, and wrote on the first sheet: “Happy May Day!” Read...
Even when I was little, I was given a tricycle. And I learned to ride it. I immediately sat down and rode, not at all afraid, as if I had ridden bicycles all my life. Read...
When I walked home from the pool, I was in a very good mood. I liked all the trolleybuses, that they are so transparent and you can see everyone who rides in them, and the ice cream ladies liked that they were cheerful, and I liked that it was not hot outside and the breeze cooled my wet head. Read...
That summer, when I didn't go to school yet, our yard was being renovated. Bricks and boards lay everywhere, and in the middle of the yard rose a huge pile of sand. And we played on this sand in the "defeat of the Nazis near Moscow", or made Easter cakes, or just played at nothing. Read...
When I was a preschooler, I was terribly compassionate. I couldn't hear anything pathetic at all. And if someone ate someone, or threw him into the fire, or imprisoned him, I immediately began to cry. For example, the wolves ate a goat, and horns and legs remained of him. Read...
Tomorrow is the first of September, - said my mother. - And now autumn has come, and you will go to the second grade. Oh, how time flies!.. Read...
It turns out that while I was sick, it became quite warm outside and there were two or three days left before our spring break. When I came to school, everyone screamed... Read...
Marya Petrovna often comes to tea with us. She is all so full, the dress is pulled tight over her, like a pillowcase on a pillow. She has different earrings dangling in her ears. And she smells something dry and sweet. Read...
If you think about it, it's just some kind of horror: I have never flown an airplane before. True, once I almost flew, but it wasn’t there. It broke. Straight trouble. Read...
The stories of Viktor Dragunsky are illuminated by love for children, knowledge of their psychology, and spiritual kindness. The prototype of the protagonist was the author's son, and the father in these stories is the writer himself. Viktor Dragunsky wrote not only provocative stories, most of which probably happened to his Deniska, but also a little sad and instructive ("The Man with a Blue Face"). Good and bright impressions remain after reading each of these stories, many of which have been filmed. Children and adults enjoy reading them over and over again.
Deniskin's stories of Dragunsky.
Victor Yuzefovich Dragunsky was born on December 1, 1913 in New York, in a Jewish family of emigrants from Russia. Soon after that, the parents returned to their homeland and settled in Gomel. During the war, Victor's father died of typhus. His stepfather was I. Voitsekhovich, a red commissar who died in 1920. In 1922, another stepfather appeared - Jewish theater actor Mikhail Rubin, with whom the family traveled all over the country. In 1925 they moved to Moscow. But one day Mikhail Rubin went on tour and did not return home. What happened remains unknown.
Victor started working early. In 1930, already working, he began to attend the "Literary and Theater Workshops" of A. Diky. In 1935, he began performing as an actor at the Transport Theater (now the N.V. Gogol Theatre). At the same time, Dragunsky was engaged in literary work: he wrote feuilletons and humoresques, came up with interludes, skits, pop monologues, circus clowns. He became close with circus performers and even worked in a circus for a while. Gradually came the role. He played several roles in films (the film "The Russian Question", directed by Mikhail Romm) and was accepted into the Film Actor's Theatre. But in the theater with its huge troupe, which included eminent movie stars, young and not very famous actors did not have to rely on constant employment in performances. Then Dragunsky had the idea of creating a small amateur troupe inside the theater. True, such a troupe could be called amateur performances conditionally - the participants were professional artists. Many actors responded with pleasure to the idea of creating a parody "theater within the theater". Dragunsky became the organizer and leader of the Blue Bird ensemble of literary and theatrical parody, which existed from 1948-1958. Actors from other Moscow theaters also began to come there. Gradually, the small troupe gained importance and repeatedly performed at the Actor's House (then: the All-Russian Theater Society), where Alexander Moiseevich Eskin was director at that time. Parody funny performances were such a resounding success that Dragunsky was invited to create a similar group with the same name in Mosestrade. For productions at the Blue Bird, together with Lyudmila Davidovich, he composed the text for several songs, which later became popular and acquired a second life on the stage: Three Waltzes, Miracle Song, Motor Ship, Star of My Fields, Birch".
During the Great Patriotic War, Dragunsky was in the militia.
Since 1940, he has been publishing feuilletons and humorous stories, later collected in the collection Iron Character (1960); writes songs, interludes, clownery, scenes for stage and circus.
Since 1959, Dragunsky has been writing funny stories about a fictional boy Denis Korablev and his friend Mishka Slonov under the general title "Deniskin's Stories", based on which the films "Funny Stories" (1962), "The Girl on the Ball" (1966) are released. , "Deniska's stories" (1970), "In secret around the world" (1976), "The amazing adventures of Denis Korablev" (1979), short films "Where has it been seen, where has it been heard", "Captain", "Fire in the wing" and "Spyglass" (1973). These stories brought their author great popularity, it was with them that his name began to be associated. The name Deniska was not chosen by chance - that was the name of his son.
In addition, Dragunsky was the screenwriter of the film "The Magic Power of Art (1970)", in which Deniska Korablev was also displayed as a hero.
However, Viktor Dragunsky wrote prose works for adults too. In 1961, the story "He Fell on the Grass" was published about the very first days of the war. Its hero, a young artist, like the author of the book himself, despite the fact that he was not drafted into the army due to disability, joined the militia. The story "Today and Daily" (1964) is dedicated to the life of circus workers, the main character of which is a clown; this is a book about a man who exists in spite of time, living in his own way.
But the children's "Deniska's stories" are most famous and popular.
In the 1960s, books from this series were published in large numbers:
"Girl on the Ball",
"Enchanted Letter"
"Childhood Friend"
"Dog Thief"
"Twenty years under the bed"
"The Magical Power of Art", etc.
In the 1970s:
"Red balloon in the blue sky"
"Colorful Stories"
"Adventure" etc.
The writer died in Moscow on May 6, 1972.
The widow of V. Dragunsky Alla Dragunskaya (Semichastnaya) published a book of memoirs: “About Viktor Dragunsky. Life, creativity, memories of friends”, LLP “Chemistry and Life”, Moscow, 1999.
Viktor Yuzefovich Dragunsky
Deniskin's stories
© Dragunsky V. Yu., heirs, 2014
© Dragunskaya K. V., foreword, 2014
© Chizhikov V. A., afterword, 2014
© Losin V. N., illustrations, heritage, 2014
© LLC AST Publishing House, 2015
About my dad
When I was little, I had a dad. Viktor Dragunsky. Famous children's writer. Only no one believed me that he was my dad. And I screamed: “This is my dad, dad, dad!!!” And she started to fight. Everyone thought he was my grandfather. Because he was no longer very young. I am a late child. Junior. I have two older brothers - Lenya and Denis. They are smart, scholarly, and quite bald. But they know a lot more stories about dad than I do. But since it wasn’t them who became children’s writers, but I, then they usually ask me to write something about dad.
My dad was born a long time ago. In 2013, on the first of December, he would have turned one hundred years old. And not somewhere there he was born, but in New York. This is how it happened - his mom and dad were very young, got married and left the Belarusian city of Gomel for America, for happiness and wealth. I don’t know about happiness, but they didn’t work out with wealth at all. They ate exclusively bananas, and in the house where they lived, hefty rats ran. And they returned back to Gomel, and after a while they moved to Moscow, to Pokrovka. There my dad did not study well at school, but he liked to read books. Then he worked at a factory, studied to be an actor and worked in the Theater of Satire, and also as a clown in a circus and wore a red wig. Maybe that's why I have red hair. And as a child, I also wanted to be a clown.
Dear readers!!! People often ask me how my dad is doing, and they ask me to ask him to write something else - bigger and funnier. I don’t want to upset you, but my dad died a long time ago when I was only six years old, that is, more than thirty years ago, it turns out. Therefore, I remember very few cases about him.
One such case. My dad was very fond of dogs. He always dreamed of getting a dog, only his mother did not allow him, but finally, when I was five and a half years old, a spaniel puppy named Toto appeared in our house. So wonderful. Eared, spotted and with thick paws. He had to be fed six times a day, like a baby, which made mom a little angry ... And then one day dad and I come from somewhere or just sit at home alone, and we want to eat something. We go to the kitchen and find a saucepan with semolina, and so tasty (I generally can’t stand semolina) that we immediately eat it. And then it turns out that this is Totoshina porridge, which my mother specially cooked in advance to mix it with some vitamins, as it should be for puppies. Mom was offended, of course. Outrageous is a children's writer, an adult, and ate puppy porridge.
They say that in his youth my dad was terribly cheerful, he was always inventing something, around him there were always the coolest and witty people in Moscow, and at home we always had noisy, fun, laughter, a holiday, a feast and solid celebrities. Unfortunately, I don’t remember this anymore - when I was born and grew up a little, dad was very ill with hypertension, high blood pressure, and it was impossible to make noise in the house. My friends, who are now quite adult aunts, still remember that I had to walk on tiptoe so as not to disturb my dad. Somehow they didn’t even let me in to see him very much, so that I wouldn’t disturb him. But I still penetrated to him, and we played - I was a frog, and dad was a respected and kind lion.
My dad and I also went to eat bagels on Chekhov Street, there was such a bakery with bagels and a milkshake. We were also in the circus on Tsvetnoy Boulevard, we were sitting very close, and when the clown Yuri Nikulin saw my dad (and they worked together in the circus before the war), he was very happy, took a microphone from the ringmaster and sang “The Song about Hares” especially for us .
My dad also collected bells, we have a whole collection at home, and now I continue to replenish it.
If you read "Deniska's Stories" attentively, you will understand how sad they are. Not all, of course, but some - just very much. I won't name now which ones. You yourself read and feel. And then - let's check. Some people are surprised, they say, how did an adult manage to penetrate the soul of a child, speak on his behalf, just as if the child himself had told it? .. And it’s very simple - dad remained a little boy all his life. Exactly! A person does not have time to grow up at all - life is too short. A person only manages to learn how to eat without getting dirty, walk without falling, do something there, smoke, lie, shoot from a machine gun, or vice versa - treat, teach ... All people are children. Well, at least almost everything. Only they don't know about it.
I don't remember much about my dad. But I can compose all sorts of stories - funny, strange and sad. I have this from him.
And my son Tema is very similar to my dad. Well, spilled! In the house in Karetny Ryad, where we live in Moscow, there are elderly pop artists who remember my dad when he was young. And they call Theme just that - "Dragoon offspring." And we, along with Tema, love dogs. We have a lot of dogs at the dacha, and those that are not ours just come to us for lunch. Once a striped dog came, we treated her to a cake, and she liked it so much that she ate and barked with joy with her mouth full.
Xenia Dragunskaya
"He's alive and glowing..."
One evening I was sitting in the yard, near the sand, and waiting for my mother. She probably lingered at the institute, or at the store, or, perhaps, stood at the bus stop for a long time. Don't 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 cheese, but my mother was still not there ...
And now the lights in the windows began to light up, and the radio began to play music, and dark clouds moved in the sky - they looked like bearded old men ...
And I wanted to eat, but my mother was still 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 would not be late and would not made her sit on the sand and get bored.
And at that moment 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! Mishka said. - Where did you get it? Does he pick up the sand himself? Not by myself? Does he dump himself? Yes? And the pen? What is she for? Can it be rotated? Yes? A? Wow! Will you give it to me home?
I said:
- No I will not give. Present. Dad gave before leaving.
The bear pouted and moved away from me. It got even darker outside.
I looked at the gate so as not to miss when my mother comes. But she didn't go. Apparently, I met Aunt Rosa, and they stand and talk and do not even think about me. I lay down on the sand.
Mishka says:
- Can you give me a dump truck?
- Get off, Mishka.
One evening I was sitting in the yard, near the sand, and waiting for my mother. She probably lingered at the institute, or at the store, or, perhaps, stood at the bus stop for a long time. Don't know. Only all the parents of our yard had already arrived, and all the guys went home with them and, probably, already drank tea with bagels and cheese, but my mother was still not there ...
And now the lights in the windows began to light up, and the radio began to play music, and dark clouds moved in the sky - they looked like bearded old men ...
And I wanted to eat, but my mother was still 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 would not be late and would not made her sit on the sand and get bored.
And at that moment 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! Mishka said. - Where did you get it? Does he pick up the sand himself? Not by myself? Does he dump himself? Yes? And the pen? What is she for? Can it be rotated? Yes? A? Wow! Will you give it to me home?
I said:
- No I will not give. Present. Dad gave before leaving.
The bear pouted and moved away from me. It got even darker outside.
I looked at the gate so as not to miss when my mother comes. But she didn't go. Apparently, I met Aunt Rosa, and they stand and talk and don’t even think about me. I lay down on the sand.
Mishka says:
- Can you give me a dump truck?
- Get off, Mishka.
Then Mishka says:
“I can give you one Guatemala and two Barbados for him!”
I speak:
- Compared Barbados with a dump truck ...
- Well, do you want me to give you a swim ring?
I speak:
- He's screwed on you.
- You'll glue it!
I even got angry.
- Where can I swim? In the bathroom? On Tuesdays?
And Mishka pouted again. And then he says:
- Well, it wasn't! Know my kindness! On the!
And he handed me a box of matches. I took it in my hands.
- You open it, - said Mishka, - then you will see!
I opened the box and at first I didn’t see anything, and then I saw a small light green light, as if a tiny star was burning somewhere far, far away from me, and at the same time I myself was holding it in my hands now.
“What is it, Mishka,” I said in a whisper, “what is it?”
“It’s a firefly,” said Mishka. - What, good? He's alive, don't worry.
“Mishka,” I said, “take my dump truck, do you want to?” Take forever, forever! And 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 your hand, but it shines, as if from afar ... And I could not breathe evenly, and I could hear my heart beating and my nose pricked a little, as if I wanted to cry.
And I sat like that for a long time, a very long time. And there was no one around. And I forgot about everyone in the 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 cheese, my mother asked:
- Well, how is your dump truck?
And I said:
- I, mother, changed it.
Mom said:
- Interesting! And for what?
I answered:
- To the firefly! Here he is 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 mom 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, it turned out to be better than any dump truck in the world.
Mom looked at me intently and asked:
- And what, exactly, is it better?
I said:
- How can you not understand? After all, he is alive! And it glows!
Glory to Ivan Kozlovsky
I have only fives in the report card. Only a four in calligraphy. Because of the blot. I don't really know what to do! I always have blots coming off my pen. I already dip only the very tip of the pen into the ink, but the blots still come off. Just some miracles! Once I wrote a whole page cleanly, it's a pleasure to look at - a real five-page page. In the morning I showed it to Raisa Ivanovna, and there, in the very middle of the blot! Where did she come from? She wasn't there yesterday! Maybe it leaked from some other page? Don't know…
And so I have one five. Only singing triple. This is how it happened. We had a singing lesson. At first, we all sang in unison, "There was a birch tree in the field." It turned out very beautifully, but Boris Sergeevich frowned all the time and shouted:
- Pull the vowels, friends, pull the vowels! ..
Then we began to draw vowels, but Boris Sergeevich clapped his hands and said:
- A real cat concert! Let's deal with each one individually.
This means with each one 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 sang softly:
Like 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 help it and laughed.
Then Boris Sergeevich gave Mishka a five and looked at me.
He said:
- Come on, gull, come out!
I quickly ran to the piano.
"Well, what are you going to do?" asked Boris Sergeevich politely.
I said:
- The song of the civil war "Lead, Budyonny, bolder us into battle."
Boris Sergeevich shook his head and began to play, but I immediately stopped him.
