“Deniska’s Stories” are stories by the Soviet writer Viktor Dragunsky, dedicated to incidents from the life of a preschooler, and then a junior school student, Denis Korablev. Appearing in print since 1959, the stories became classics of Soviet children's literature, were republished many times and were filmed several times. They were included in the list of “100 books for schoolchildren” compiled in 2012. The prototype of the main character of the stories was the writer’s son Denis, and one of the stories mentions the birth of Denis’s younger sister Ksenia.
V. Dragunsky did not combine his stories into a cycle, but unity is created by: plot and thematic connections; the image of the central character - Deniski Korableva and secondary characters - Deniski's father and mother, his friends, acquaintances, teachers, also move from story to story.
In the stories of Viktor Yuzefovich, the main character, Deniska, tells various incidents from his life, shares with us his thoughts and observations. The boy constantly finds himself in funny situations. It’s especially funny when the hero and the reader have different assessments of what Deniska tells. Deniska, for example, talks about something as if it were a drama, and the reader laughs, and the more serious the narrator’s tone, the funnier it is for us. However, the writer included not only funny stories in the collection. There are also works in it that are sad in intonation. Such, for example, is the wonderful lyrical story “The Girl on the Ball,” which tells the story of first love. But the story “Childhood Friend” is especially touching. Here the author talks about gratitude and true love. Deniska decided to become a boxer, and his mother gave him an old bear as a punching bag. And then the hero remembered how he loved this toy when he was little. The boy, hiding his tears from his mother, said: “I will never be a boxer.”
In his stories, Dragunsky wittily recreates the characteristic features of children's speech, its emotionality and unique logic, “general children's” gullibility and spontaneity, which set the tone for the entire narrative. “What I love” and “...And what I don’t like!” ‒ two famous stories by Dragunsky, in the title of which the child’s own opinion is put forward in the first place. This is stated in the enumeration of what Deniska likes and dislikes. “I really like to lie on my stomach on my dad’s knee, lower my arms and legs and hang on my knee like laundry on a fence. I also really like to play checkers, chess and dominoes, just to be sure to win. If you don’t win, then don’t.” Deniskin’s “I love” - “I don’t like” are often polemical in relation to the instructions of adults (“When I run along the corridor, I like to stomp my feet with all my might”). In the image of Deniska there is a lot that is typically childish: naivety, a penchant for invention and fantasy, and sometimes simple-minded egoism. The “mistakes” characteristic of childhood turn out to be the subject of humor and jokes, as always happens in a humorous story. On the other hand, Dragunsky’s hero has traits that indicate a fully developed personality: Deniska is resolutely opposed to any falsehood, he is receptive to beauty, and values kindness. This gave critics the right to see in the image of the main character the autobiographical features of Dragunsky himself. The combination of the lyrical and comic is the main feature of V. Dragunsky’s stories about Denis.
The content of “Deniska’s Stories” is connected with incidents from the ordinary life of a child - these are incidents in class, household chores, games with friends in the yard, trips to the theater and circus. But their commonness is only apparent - comic exaggeration is necessarily present in the story. Dragunsky is a master of creating the most incredible situations using everyday, even ordinary, material. The basis for them is the often paradoxical logic of children and their inexhaustible imagination. Deniska and Mishka, being late for class, attribute incredible feats to themselves (“Fire in the outbuilding, or feat in the ice”), but because everyone fantasizes in their own way, inevitable exposure follows. The boys are enthusiastically building a rocket in the yard, when launched, Deniska flies not into space, but through the window of the house management in the work “Amazing Day”. And in the story “Top down, diagonally! the children, in the absence of painters, decide to help them paint, but in the midst of the game they pour paint on the house manager. And what an incredible story is described in the children's work “Mishkina Porridge”, when Deniska does not want to eat semolina porridge and throws it out the window, which ends up on the hat of a random passerby. All these unthinkable coincidences and incidents are sometimes simply funny, sometimes they imply a moral assessment, sometimes they are designed for emotional empathy. The paradoxical logic that guides Dragunsky's heroes is the path to understanding the child. In the story “Green Leopards,” children comically talk about all kinds of diseases, finding in each of them advantages and benefits “it’s good to be sick,” says one of the heroes of the work, “when you’re sick, they always give you something.” Behind the seemingly absurd arguments of children about illnesses there is a touching request for love: “when you are sick, everyone loves you more.” For the sake of such love, a child is even ready to get sick. The children's hierarchy of values seems deeply human to the writer. In the story “He is alive and glowing...” Dragunsky, in the words of a child, affirms an important truth: spiritual values are higher than material ones. The objective embodiment of these concepts in the story is an iron toy with material value and a firefly capable of emitting light. Deniska made an unequal exchange from an adult point of view: he exchanged a large dump truck for a small firefly. The story about this is preceded by a description of a long evening, during which Deniska is waiting for her mother. It was then that the boy fully felt the darkness of loneliness, from which he was saved by the “pale green star” in a matchbox. Therefore, when asked by her mother, “how did you decide to give up such a valuable thing as a dump truck for this worm,” Deniska replies: “How come you don’t understand? ! After all, he is alive! And it glows!..”
A very significant character in “Deniska’s Stories” is a father, a close and faithful friend of his son, an intelligent teacher. In the story “Watermelon Lane,” a boy is capricious at the table, refusing to eat. And then the father tells his son one episode from his military childhood. This restrained but very tragic story turns the boy’s soul upside down. The life situations and human characters described by Dragunsky are sometimes very difficult. Since the child is talking about them, individual details help to understand the meaning of everything that happens, and they are very important in Deniska’s Stories. In the story “Workers Crushing Stone,” Deniska boasts that she can jump from a water tower. From below it seems to him that doing this is “easy.” But at the very top, the boy’s breath is taken away by fear, and he begins to look for excuses for his cowardice. The fight against fear takes place against the background of the incessant sound of a jackhammer - down there, workers are crushing stone while building a road. It would seem that this detail has little to do with what is happening, but in fact it convinces of the need for perseverance, before which even a stone retreats. Cowardice also receded before Deniska’s firm decision to make the jump. In all his stories, even where we are talking about dramatic situations, Dragunsky remains faithful to his humorous manner. Many of Deniska’s statements seem funny and amusing. In the story “Motorcycle Racing on a Sheer Wall” he says the following phrase: “Fedka came to us on business - to drink tea,” and in the work “The Blue Dagger” Deniska says: “In the morning I couldn’t eat anything. I just drank two cups of tea with bread and butter, potatoes and sausage.”
But often a child’s speech (with the reservations that are characteristic of it) sounds very touching: “I love horses very much, they have beautiful and kind faces” (“What I love”) or “I lifted my head to the ceiling so that the tears would roll back...”(“ childhood friend). The combination of sad and comical in Dragunsky's prose reminds us of clownery, when behind the funny and absurd appearance of a clown his good heart is hidden.
Victor Dragunsky’s book “Deniska’s Stories” was written for children; it will cheer them up and help them spend their time interestingly and usefully. However, this book will also be interesting for adults. After all, it tells about the adventures of childhood, when the world is seen completely differently, it is full of joy, unusual and curious things, goodness and light. Every adult one day wants to go back to childhood, remember the past, relive funny situations and feel like a child. This book will do the job perfectly. In addition, it will help you better understand your children and build relationships with them.
Deniska, like all boys, sometimes indulges, but within reason. He may forget to learn his homework or get confused right in class while reciting a poem. He comically confuses complex geographical names and constantly gets into funny stories. In each story he tells about something interesting, so you definitely won’t get bored reading them!
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Victor Dragunsky
Deniska's funniest stories (collection)
© Dragunsky V. Yu., inheritance, 2016
© Il., Popovich O. V., 2016
© AST Publishing House LLC, 2016
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Girl on the Ball
Once we went to the circus as a whole class. I was very happy when I went there, because I was almost eight years old, and I had only been to the circus once, and that was a very long time ago. The main thing is that Alyonka is only six years old, but she has already managed to visit the circus three times. This is very disappointing. And now the whole class went to the circus, and I thought how good it was that I was already big and that now, this time, I would see everything properly. And at that time I was little, I did not understand what a circus was.
That time, when the acrobats entered the arena and one climbed on the head of the other, I laughed terribly, because I thought that they were doing this on purpose, for laughs, because at home I had never seen grown men climbing on each other. And this didn’t happen on the street either. So I laughed out loud. I didn’t understand that these were artists showing their dexterity. And even at that time I looked more and more at the orchestra, how they played - some on the drum, some on the trumpet - and the conductor waves his baton, and no one looks at him, but everyone plays as they want. I really liked it, but while I was looking at these musicians, there were artists performing in the middle of the arena. And I didn’t see them and missed the most interesting thing. Of course, I was still completely stupid that time.
And so we came as a whole class to the circus. I immediately liked that it smelled like something special, and that there were bright paintings hanging on the walls, and there was light all around, and in the middle there was a beautiful carpet, and the ceiling was high, and there were various shiny swings tied there. And at that time the music started playing, and everyone rushed to sit down, and then they bought a popsicle and began to eat.
And suddenly, from behind the red curtain, a whole squad of people came out, dressed very beautifully - in red suits with yellow stripes. They stood on the sides of the curtain, and their boss in a black suit walked between them. He shouted something loudly and somewhat incomprehensibly, and the music began to play quickly, quickly and loudly, and a juggler jumped into the arena, and the fun began. He threw balls, ten or a hundred at a time, and caught them back. And then he grabbed a striped ball and began to play with it... He bounced it with his head, and with the back of his head, and with his forehead, and rolled it on his back, and pushed it with his heel, and the ball rolled all over his body as if magnetized. It was very beautiful. And suddenly the juggler threw this ball towards us in the audience, and then a real commotion began, because I caught this ball and threw it at Valerka, and Valerka threw it at Mishka, and Mishka suddenly took aim and, for no apparent reason, flashed it right at conductor, but didn’t hit him, but hit the drum! Bamm! The drummer got angry and threw the ball back to the juggler, but the ball didn’t get there, it just hit one beautiful woman in her hair, and she didn’t end up with a hairstyle, but a fringe. And we all laughed so hard that we almost died.
And when the juggler ran behind the curtain, we couldn’t calm down for a long time. But then a huge blue ball was rolled out into the arena, and the guy who was announcing came to the middle and shouted something in an unintelligible voice. It was impossible to understand anything, and the orchestra again started playing something very cheerful, only not as fast as before.
And suddenly a little girl ran into the arena. I have never seen such small and beautiful ones. She had blue, blue eyes and long eyelashes around them. She wore a silver dress with an airy cloak, and she had long arms; she waved them like a bird and jumped onto this huge blue ball that was rolled out for her. She stood on the ball. And then she suddenly ran, as if she wanted to jump off it, but the ball spun under her feet, and she rode it like she was running, but in fact she was riding around the arena. I have never seen such girls. They were all ordinary, but this one was something special. She ran around the ball with her little legs, as if on a flat floor, and the blue ball carried her on it: she could ride it straight, and backward, and to the left, and wherever you wanted! She laughed merrily when she ran like she was swimming, and I thought that she was probably Thumbelina, she was so small, sweet and extraordinary. At this time she stopped, and someone handed her various bell-shaped bracelets, and she put them on her shoes and hands and again began to slowly spin around on the ball, as if dancing. And the orchestra began to play quiet music, and one could hear the golden bells on the girls’ long arms ringing subtly. And it was all like in a fairy tale. And then they turned off the light, and it turned out that the girl, in addition, could glow in the dark, and she slowly floated in a circle, and glowed, and rang, and it was amazing - I have never seen anything like that in my entire life.
And when the lights came on, everyone clapped and shouted “bravo”, and I also shouted “bravo”. And the girl jumped off her ball and ran forward, closer to us, and suddenly, as she ran, she turned over her head, like lightning, and again, and again, and ever forward and forward. And it seemed to me that she was about to break against the barrier, and I suddenly got very scared, and jumped to my feet, and wanted to run to her to pick her up and save her, but the girl suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, spread out her long arms, the orchestra fell silent, and she stood and smiled. And everyone clapped with all their might and even stamped their feet. And at that moment this girl looked at me, and I saw that she saw that I saw her and that I also saw that she saw me, and she waved her hand at me and smiled. She waved and smiled at me alone. And again I wanted to run up to her, and I stretched out my hands to her. And she suddenly blew a kiss to everyone and ran away behind the red curtain, where all the artists were running away.
And a clown with his rooster entered the arena and began to sneeze and fall, but I had no time for him. I kept thinking about the girl on the ball, how amazing she was and how she waved her hand and smiled at me, and I didn’t want to look at anything else. On the contrary, I closed my eyes tightly so as not to see this stupid clown with his red nose, because he was spoiling my girl for me: she still seemed to me on her blue ball.
And then they announced an intermission, and everyone ran to the buffet to drink lemonade, and I quietly went downstairs and approached the curtain from where the artists were coming out.
I wanted to look at this girl again, and I stood by the curtain and looked - what if she came out? But she didn't come out.
And after the intermission, the lions performed, and I didn’t like that the tamer kept dragging them by their tails, as if they were not lions, but dead cats. He forced them to move from place to place or laid them on the floor in a row and walked over the lions with his feet, as if on a carpet, and they looked as if they were not allowed to lie quietly. This was not interesting, because the lion had to hunt and chase the bison in the endless pampas and announce the surroundings with a menacing roar, terrifying the native population.
And so it turns out not a lion, but I just don’t know what.
And when it was over and we went home, I kept thinking about the girl on the ball.
And in the evening dad asked:
- Well, how? Did you like the circus?
I said:
- Dad! There's a girl at the circus. She is dancing on a blue ball. So nice, the best! She smiled at me and waved her hand! I'm the only one, honestly! Do you understand, dad? Let's go to the circus next Sunday! I'll show it to you!
Dad said:
- We'll definitely go. I love the circus!
And mom looked at both of us as if she was seeing us for the first time.
...And a long week began, and I ate, studied, got up and went to bed, played and even fought, and still every day I thought when Sunday would come, and my dad and I would go to the circus, and I would see the girl in the ball again, and I’ll show it to dad, and maybe dad will invite her to visit us, and I’ll give her a Browning pistol and draw a ship with full sails.
But on Sunday dad couldn't go.
His comrades came to him, they delved into some drawings, and shouted, and smoked, and drank tea, and sat until late, and after them my mother had a headache, and my father said to me:
– Next Sunday... I take an oath of Loyalty and Honor.
And I looked forward to the next Sunday so much that I don’t even remember how I lived another week. And dad kept his word: he went with me to the circus and bought tickets to the second row, and I was glad that we were sitting so close, and the performance began, and I began to wait for the girl to appear on the ball. But the person who announces kept announcing various other artists, and they came out and performed in different ways, but the girl still did not appear. And I was literally trembling with impatience, I really wanted dad to see how extraordinary she was in her silver suit with an airy cape and how deftly she ran around the blue ball. And every time the announcer came out, I whispered to dad:
- Now he will announce it!
But, as luck would have it, he announced someone else, and I even began to hate him, and I kept telling dad:
- Come on! This is nonsense on vegetable oil! This is not it!
And dad said, without looking at me:
- Don't interfere, please. It is very interesting! That's it!
I thought that dad apparently doesn’t know much about the circus, since it’s interesting to him. Let's see what he sings when he sees the girl on the ball. Probably he will jump two meters in height on his chair...
But then the announcer came out and shouted in his deaf-mute voice:
- Ant-rra-kt!
I just couldn’t believe my ears! Intermission? And why? After all, in the second section there will only be lions! Where is my girl on the ball? Where is she? Why doesn't she perform? Maybe she got sick? Maybe she fell and had a concussion?
I said:
- Dad, let's go quickly and find out where the girl is on the ball!
Dad replied:
- Yes Yes! Where is your tightrope walker? Something is missing! Let's go buy some software!..
He was cheerful and happy. He looked around, laughed and said:
- Oh, I love... I love the circus! This very smell... It makes my head spin...
And we went into the corridor. There were a lot of people milling around there, and they were selling candies and waffles, and there were photographs of different tiger faces on the walls, and we wandered around a little and finally found a controller with programs. Dad bought one from her and began looking through it. But I couldn’t stand it and asked the controller:
– Tell me, please, when will the girl perform in the ball?
- Which girl?
Dad said:
– The program shows tightrope walker T. Vorontsova. Where is she?
I stood and was silent.
The controller said:
- Oh, are you talking about Tanechka Vorontsova? She left. She left. Why are you late?
I stood and was silent.
Dad said:
“We haven’t known peace for two weeks now.” We want to see tightrope walker T. Vorontsova, but she’s not there.
The controller said:
- Yes, she left... Together with her parents... Her parents are “Bronze People - Two-Yavors.” Maybe you've heard? It's a pity. We just left yesterday.
I said:
- You see, dad...
“I didn’t know she would leave.” What a pity... Oh my God!.. Well... Nothing can be done...
I asked the controller:
- Does this mean it’s true?
She said:
I said:
– Where, no one knows?
She said:
- To Vladivostok.
There you go. Far. Vladivostok.
I know it is located at the very end of the map, from Moscow to the right.
I said:
- What a distance.
The controller suddenly hurried:
- Well, go, go to your seats, the lights are already turning off!
Dad picked up:
- Let's go, Deniska! Now there will be lions! Shaggy, growling - horror! Let's run to see!
I said:
- Let's go home, dad.
He said:
- Just like that...
The controller laughed. But we went to the wardrobe, and I handed over the number, and we got dressed and left the circus.
We walked along the boulevard and walked like this for quite a long time, then I said:
– Vladivostok is at the very end of the map. If you travel there by train, it will take you a whole month...
Dad was silent. Apparently he had no time for me. We walked a little more, and I suddenly remembered about airplanes and said:
- And on the TU-104 in three hours - and there!
But dad still didn’t answer. He held my hand tightly. When we went out onto Gorky Street, he said:
- Let's go to an ice cream parlor. Let's make two servings each, shall we?
I said:
- I don’t want something, dad.
– They serve water there, it’s called “Kakhetinskaya”. I have never drank better water anywhere in the world.
I said:
- I don’t want to, dad.
He didn't try to persuade me. He quickened his pace and squeezed my hand tightly. It even hurt me. He walked very quickly, and I could barely keep up with him. Why was he walking so fast? Why didn't he talk to me? I wanted to look at him. I raised my head. He had a very serious and sad face.
“It’s alive and glowing...”
One evening I sat in the yard, near the sand, and waited for my mother. She probably stayed late at the institute, or at the store, or maybe stood at the bus stop for a long time. Don't know. Only all the parents in our yard had already arrived, and all the kids went home with them and were probably already drinking tea with bagels and cheese, but my mother was still not there...
And now the lights began to light up in the windows, 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 not made her sit on the sand and get 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 the dump truck.
“Wow,” said Mishka. - Where did you get it?
Does he pick up sand himself? Not yourself? Does he leave on his own? Yes? What about the pen? What is it for? Can it be rotated? Yes? A? Wow! Will you give it to me at home?
I said:
- No I will not give. Present. Dad gave it to me before he left.
The bear pouted and moved away from me. It became even darker outside.
I looked at the gate so as not to miss when my mother came. But she still 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.
Here Mishka says:
- Can you give me a dump truck?
- Get off it, Mishka.
Then Mishka says:
– I can give you one Guatemala and two Barbados for it!
I speak:
– Compared Barbados to a dump truck...
- Well, do you want me to give you a swimming ring?
I speak:
- It's broken.
- You will seal 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 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 somewhere far, far away from me a tiny star was burning, and at the same time I was holding it in my hands.
“What is this, Mishka,” I said in a whisper, “what is this?”
“This is a firefly,” said Mishka. - What, good? He's alive, don't think about it.
“Bear,” I said, “take my dump truck, would you like it?” Take it forever, forever. 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 couldn’t get enough of it: how green it was, as if in a fairy tale, and how close it was, in the palm of my hand, but shining as if from afar... And I couldn’t breathe evenly, and I heard my heart beating and there was a slight tingling in my nose, 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 this world.
But then my mother came, and I was very happy, and we went home.
And when they started drinking tea with bagels and feta cheese, my mother asked:
- Well, how is your dump truck?
And I said:
- I, mom, exchanged it.
Mom said:
- Interesting. And for what?
I answered:
- To the firefly. Here he is, living in a box. Turn out the light!
And mom 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, but this firefly, it turned out to be better than any dump truck in the world.”
Mom looked at me intently and asked:
- And in what way, in what way is it better?
I said:
- How come you don’t understand?.. After all, he’s alive! And it glows!..
From top to bottom, diagonally!
That summer, when I was not yet going to school, our yard was being renovated. Bricks and boards lay everywhere, and in the middle of the yard there was a huge pile of sand. And we played “defeat the fascists near Moscow” on this sand, or made Easter cakes, or just played nothing.
We had a lot of fun, and we made friends with the workers and even helped them repair the house: once I brought the mechanic Uncle Grisha a full kettle of boiling water, and the second time Alyonka showed the fitters where our back door was. And we helped a lot more, but now I don’t remember everything.
And then somehow, imperceptibly, the repairs began to end, the workers left one after another, Uncle Grisha said goodbye to us by hand, gave me a heavy piece of iron and also left.
And instead of Uncle Grisha, three girls came into the yard. They were all very beautifully dressed: they wore men's long pants, smeared with different colors and completely hard. When these girls walked, their pants rattled like iron on a roof. And on their heads the girls wore hats made of newspapers. These girls were painters and were called the brigade. They were very cheerful and dexterous, loved to laugh and always sang the song “Lilies of the valley, lilies of the valley.” But I don't like this song. And Alyonka.
And Mishka doesn’t like it either. But we all loved watching how the girl painters worked and how everything turned out smoothly and neatly. We knew the entire brigade by name. Their names were Sanka, Raechka and Nellie.
And one day we approached them, and Aunt Sanya said:
- Guys, someone run and find out what time it is.
I ran, found out and said:
- Five minutes to twelve, Aunt Sanya...
She said:
- Sabbath, girls! I'm off to the dining room! - and left the yard.
And Aunt Rayechka and Aunt Nellie followed her to dinner.
And they left the barrel of paint. And a rubber hose too.
We immediately came closer and began to look at that part of the house where they were just now painting. It was very cool: smooth and brown, with a little redness. Mishka looked and looked, then said:
– I wonder if if I pump the pump, will the paint come out?
Alyonka says:
- I bet it won’t work!
Then I say:
- But we bet it will go!
Here Mishka says:
- No need to argue. I'll try now. Deniska, hold the hose, and I’ll pump it.
And let's download. He pumped it two or three times, and suddenly paint started running out of the hose. She hissed like a snake, because at the end of the hose there was a cap with holes, like a watering can. Only the holes were very small, and the paint went on like cologne in a hairdresser's, you could barely see it.
The bear was delighted and shouted:
- Paint quickly! Hurry up and paint something!
I immediately took it and pointed the hose at a clean wall. The paint began to splatter, and immediately there was a light brown spot that looked like a spider.
- Hooray! - Alyonka screamed. - Let's go! Let's go! – and put her foot under the paint.
I immediately painted her leg from the knee to the toes. Right there, right before our eyes, no bruises or scratches became visible on the leg. On the contrary, Alyonka’s leg became smooth, brown, and shiny, like a brand new skittle.
The bear shouts:
- It’s working out great! Substitute the second one, quickly!
And Alyonka quickly put up her other leg, and I instantly painted her from top to bottom twice.
Then Mishka says:
- Good people, how beautiful! Legs just like a real Indian! Paint it quickly!
- All of it? Paint everything? From head to toe?
Here Alyonka squealed with delight:
- Come on, good people! Color from head to toe! I'll be a real turkey.
Then Mishka leaned on the pump and began pumping it all the way to Ivanovo, and I began pouring paint on Alyonka. I painted her wonderfully: her back, her legs, her arms, her shoulders, her stomach, and her panties. And she became all brown, only her white hair was sticking out.
I'm asking:
- Bear, what do you think, should I dye my hair?
Mishka answers:
- Well, of course! Paint quickly! Come on quickly!
And Alyonka hurries:
- Come on, come on! And come on the hair! And ears!
I quickly finished painting it and said:
- Go, Alyonka, dry off in the sun. Eh, what else could I paint?
– Do you see our laundry drying? Hurry up, let's paint!
Well, I dealt with this matter quickly! In just a minute, I finished two towels and Mishka’s shirt in such a way that it was a joy to watch!
And Mishka got really excited, pumping the pump like a clockwork one. And he just shouts:
- Come on, paint! Come on quickly! There's a new door on the front door, come on, come on, paint it quickly!
And I moved to the door. Top down! Down up! From top to bottom, diagonally!
And then the door suddenly opened, and our house manager, Alexey Akimych, came out in a white suit.
He was completely dumbfounded. And me too. We both felt like we were under a spell. The main thing is that I water it and, in my fright, I can’t even think of moving the hose to the side, but just swing it from top to bottom, from bottom to top. And his eyes widened, and it didn’t occur to him to move even one step to the right or left...
And Mishka rocks and knows how to get along:
- Come on, paint, come on quickly!
And Alyonka dances from the side:
- I'm Indian! I'm Indian!
...Yes, we had a great time then. Bear washed his clothes for two weeks. Alyonka was washed in seven waters with turpentine...
They bought Alexey Akimych a new suit. But my mother didn’t want to let me into the yard at all. But I still went out, and Aunts Sanya, Raechka and Nelly said:
- Grow up, Denis, quickly, we will take you to our team. You will be a painter!
And since then I have been trying to grow faster.
Attention! This is an introductory fragment of the book.
If you liked the beginning of the book, then the full version can be purchased from our partner - the distributor of legal content, LitRes LLC.
© Dragunsky V. Yu., heirs, 2014
© Dragunskaya K.V., preface, 2014
© Chizhikov V. A., afterword, 2014
© Losin V. N., illustrations, inheritance, 2014
© AST Publishing House LLC, 2015
* * *
About my dad
When I was little, I had a dad. Victor Dragunsky. Famous children's writer. But no one believed me that he was my dad. And I shouted: “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. Younger. I have two older brothers - Lenya and Denis. They are smart, learned and quite bald. But they know much more stories about dad than I do. But since it was not they who became children’s writers, but me, 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 he was born not just anywhere, but in New York. This is how it happened - his mother and father 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 things didn’t work out for them at all with wealth. They ate exclusively bananas, and in the house where they lived there were huge rats running around. And they returned back to Gomel, and after a while they moved to Moscow, to Pokrovka. There, my dad did poorly at school, but he loved to read books. Then he worked at a factory, studied to be an actor and worked at the Satire Theater, and also as a clown in a circus and wore a red wig. This is probably why my hair is red. And as a child, I also wanted to become a clown.
Dear readers!!! People often ask me how my dad is doing and 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. That's why I remember very few incidents about him.
One such case. My dad loved dogs very much. He always dreamed of having a dog, but 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 my mother a little angry... And then one day my dad and I came from somewhere or were just sitting at home alone, and I wanted to eat something. We go to the kitchen and find a saucepan with semolina porridge, and it is so tasty (I generally hate semolina porridge) that we eat it right away. And then it turns out that this is Totosha’s porridge, which his mother specially cooked in advance to mix with some vitamins, as puppies should. Mom was offended, of course.
A disgrace is a children's writer, an adult, and he ate puppy porridge.
They say that in his youth my dad was terribly cheerful, he was always inventing something, the coolest and wittiest people in Moscow were always around him, and at home it was always noisy, fun, laughter, celebration, feasting and solid celebrities. Unfortunately, I no longer remember this - when I was born and grew up a little, my dad was very sick with hypertension, high blood pressure, and it was impossible to make noise in the house. My friends, who are now quite grown-up aunties, still remember that I had to walk on tiptoe so as not to bother my dad. They didn’t even allow me to see him, so that I wouldn’t disturb him. But I still got 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 this bakery with bagels and a milkshake. We were also at the circus on Tsvetnoy Boulevard, we sat 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 the 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 add to it.
If you read “Deniska’s Stories” carefully, you understand how sad they are. Not all, of course, but some – just very much so. I won’t say which ones now. Read it for yourself and feel it. And then we’ll check. Some people are surprised, they say, how did an adult manage to penetrate into the soul of a child, speak on his behalf, as if it were told by the child himself?.. But 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 has time to learn to eat without getting dirty, to walk without falling, to do something, to smoke, to lie, to shoot from a machine gun, or vice versa - to heal, to teach... All people are children. Well, in extreme cases - almost everything. Only they don't know about it.
Of course, I don’t remember much about my dad. But I can write all sorts of stories - funny, strange and sad. I got this from him.
And my son Tema is very similar to my dad. Well, he looks like a spitting image! In the house in Karetny Ryad, where we live in Moscow, there live elderly pop artists who remember my dad when he was young. And that’s what they call Tema – “Bred of Dragoons.” And Tema and I love dogs. Our dacha is full of dogs, and those that are not ours just come to us for lunch. One day some striped dog came, we treated him to cake, and he liked it so much that he ate it and barked with joy with his mouth full.
Ksenia Dragunskaya
“It’s alive and glowing...”
One evening I sat in the yard, near the sand, and waited for my mother. She probably stayed late at the institute, or at the store, or maybe stood at the bus stop for a long time. Don't know. Only all the parents in our yard had already arrived, and all the kids went home with them and were probably already drinking tea with bagels and cheese, but my mother was still not there...
And now the lights began to light up in the windows, and the radio started playing 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 not made her sit on the sand and get 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 the dump truck.
- Wow! - said Mishka. - Where did you get it? Does he pick up sand himself? Not yourself? Does he leave on his own? Yes? What about the pen? What is it for? Can it be rotated? Yes? A? Wow! Will you give it to me at home?
I said:
- No I will not give. Present. Dad gave it to me before he left.
The bear pouted and moved away from me. It became even darker outside.
I looked at the gate so as not to miss when my mother came. But she still didn’t come. Apparently, I met Aunt Rosa, and they stand and talk and don’t even think about me. I lay down on the sand.
Here Mishka says:
- Can you give me a dump truck?
- Get off it, Mishka.
Then Mishka says:
– I can give you one Guatemala and two Barbados for it!
I speak:
– Compared Barbados to a dump truck...
- Well, do you want me to give you a swimming ring?
I speak:
- It's broken.
- You will seal it!
I even got angry:
- Where to 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 somewhere far, far away from me a tiny star was burning, and at the same time I was holding it in my hands.
“What is this, Mishka,” I said in a whisper, “what is this?”
“This is a firefly,” said Mishka. - What, good? He's alive, don't think about it.
“Bear,” I said, “take my dump truck, would you like it?” Take it forever, forever! 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 couldn’t 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 couldn’t breathe evenly, and I heard my heart beating and there was a slight tingling in my nose, 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 this world.
But then my mother came, and I was very happy, and we went home. And when they started drinking tea with bagels and feta cheese, my mother asked:
- Well, how is your dump truck?
And I said:
- I, mom, exchanged it.
Mom said:
- Interesting! And for what?
I answered:
- To the firefly! Here he is, living in a box. Turn out the light!
And mom 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, but this firefly, it turned out to be better than any dump truck in the world.”
Mom looked at me intently and asked:
- And in what way, in what way is it better?
I said:
- How come you don’t understand?! After all, he is alive! And it glows!..
The secret becomes clear
I heard my mother say to someone in the hallway:
–...The secret always becomes clear.
And when she entered the room, I asked:
– What does this mean, mom: “The secret becomes clear”?
“And this means that if someone acts dishonestly, they will still find out about him, and he will be ashamed, and he will be punished,” said my mother. - Got it?.. Go to bed!
I brushed my teeth, went to bed, but did not sleep, but kept thinking: how is it possible that the secret becomes apparent? And I didn’t sleep for a long time, and when I woke up, it was morning, dad was already at work, and mom and I were alone. I brushed my teeth again and started eating breakfast.
First I ate the egg. This is still tolerable, because I ate one yolk, and chopped the white with the shell so that it was not visible. But then mom brought a whole plate of semolina porridge.
- Eat! - Mom said. - Without any talking!
I said:
- I can’t see the semolina porridge!
But mom screamed:
- Look who you look like! Looks like Koschey! Eat. You must get better.
I said:
– I’m choking on her!..
Then my mother sat down next to me, hugged me by the shoulders and asked tenderly:
– Do you want us to go with you to the Kremlin?
Well, of course... I don’t know anything more beautiful than the Kremlin. I was there in the Faceted Chamber and in the Armory, I stood near the Tsar Cannon and I know where Ivan the Terrible was sitting. And there’s a lot of interesting stuff there too. So I quickly answered my mother:
- Of course, I want to go to the Kremlin! Even more!
Then mom smiled:
- Well, eat all the porridge and let's go. In the meantime, I'll wash the dishes. Just remember – you have to eat every last bit!
And mom went into the kitchen.
And I was left alone with the porridge. I spanked her with a spoon. Then I added salt. I tried it - well, it’s impossible to eat! Then I thought that maybe there was not enough sugar? I sprinkled it with sand and tried it... It got even worse. I don't like porridge, I tell you.
And it was also very thick. If it were liquid, then it would be a different matter; I would close my eyes and drink it. Then I took it and added boiling water to the porridge. It was still slippery, sticky and disgusting. The main thing is that when I swallow, my throat itself contracts and pushes this mess back out. It's a shame! After all, I want to go to the Kremlin! And then I remembered that we have horseradish. It seems like you can eat almost anything with horseradish! I took the whole jar and poured it into the porridge, and when I tried a little, my eyes immediately popped out of my head and my breathing stopped, and I probably lost consciousness, because I took the plate, quickly ran to the window and threw the porridge out onto the street. Then he immediately returned and sat down at the table.
At this time my mother entered. She looked at the plate and was delighted:
- What a Deniska, what a great guy! I ate all the porridge to the bottom! Well, get up, get dressed, working people, let's go for a walk to the Kremlin! - And she kissed me.
At that same moment the door opened and a policeman entered the room. He said:
- Hello! – and went to the window and looked down. - And also an intelligent person.
- What you need? – Mom asked sternly.
- Shame on you! “The policeman even stood at attention.” – The state provides you with new housing, with all the amenities and, by the way, with a garbage chute, and you pour all kinds of crap out the window!
- Don't slander. I don't spill anything!
- Oh, don’t you pour it out?! – the policeman laughed sarcastically. And, opening the door to the corridor, he shouted: “Victim!”
And some guy came in to see us.
As soon as I looked at him, I immediately realized that I would not go to the Kremlin.
This guy had a hat on his head. And on the hat is our porridge. It lay almost in the middle of the hat, in the dimple, and a little along the edges, where the ribbon is, and a little behind the collar, and on the shoulders, and on the left trouser leg. As soon as he entered, he immediately began to stutter:
- The main thing is that I’m going to take pictures... And suddenly there’s this story... Porridge... mm... semolina... It’s hot, by the way, through the hat and it’s... burning... How can I send my... ff... photo when I’m covered in porridge?!
Then my mother looked at me, and her eyes became green as gooseberries, and this is a sure sign that my mother was terribly angry.
“Excuse me, please,” she said quietly, “let me clean you up, come here!”
And all three of them went out into the corridor.
And when my mother returned, I was afraid to even look at her. But I overcame myself, went up to her and said:
- Yes, mom, you said it correctly yesterday. The secret always becomes clear!
Mom looked into my eyes. She looked for a long time and then asked:
– Have you remembered this for the rest of your life?
And I answered:
No bang, no bang!
When I was a preschooler, I was terribly compassionate. I absolutely couldn't listen to anything pitiful. And if someone ate someone, or threw someone into the fire, or imprisoned someone, I immediately began to cry. For example, the wolves ate a goat, and all that was left was its horns and legs. I'm crying. Or Babarikha put the queen and the prince in a barrel and threw this barrel into the sea. I'm crying again. But how! Tears run out of me in thick streams straight onto the floor and even merge into entire puddles.
The main thing is that when I listened to fairy tales, I was already in the mood to cry in advance, even before that very terrible place. My lips began to curl and crack, and my voice began to tremble, as if someone was shaking me by the collar. And my mother simply didn’t know what to do, because I always asked her to read or tell me fairy tales, and as soon as things got scary, I immediately understood it and began to shorten the fairy tale as I went. Just two or three seconds before trouble happened, I began to ask in a trembling voice: “Skip this place!”
Mom, of course, skipped, jumped from the fifth to the tenth, and I listened further, but only a little, because in fairy tales something happens every minute, and as soon as it became clear that some misfortune was about to happen again , I again started screaming and begging: “Miss this too!”
Mom again missed some bloody crime, and I calmed down for a while. And so, with worries, stops and quick contractions, my mother and I eventually got to the happy end.
Of course, I still realized that all this made the fairy tales somehow not very interesting: firstly, they were very short, and secondly, they had almost no adventures at all. But on the other hand, I could listen to them calmly, without shedding tears, and then, after such tales, I could sleep at night, and not lie around with my eyes open and be afraid until the morning. And that’s why I really liked such abridged tales. They seemed so calm. Still cool sweet tea. For example, there is a fairy tale about Little Red Riding Hood. My mother and I missed so much in it that it became the shortest fairy tale in the world and the happiest. This is how her mother told it:
“Once upon a time there was a Little Red Riding Hood. One day she baked some pies and went to visit her grandmother. And they began to live and prosper and make good.”
And I was glad that everything worked out so well for them. But, unfortunately, that was not all. I was especially worried about another fairy tale, about a hare. This is a short fairy tale, like a rhyme, everyone in the world knows it:
One two three four five,
The bunny went out for a walk
Suddenly the hunter runs out...
And here my nose began to tingle and my lips parted in different directions, upper to the right, lower to the left, and the fairy tale continued at that time... The hunter, it means, suddenly runs out and...
Shoots straight at the bunny!
My heart just sank here. I couldn't understand how this happened. Why does this fierce hunter shoot straight at the bunny? What did the bunny do to him? What, he started it first, or what? No! After all, he didn’t get cocky, did he? He just went out for a walk! And this one directly, without talking:
Bang Bang!
From your heavy double-barreled shotgun! And then tears began to flow from me, like from a faucet. Because the bunny wounded in the stomach shouted:
Oh oh oh!
He shouted:
- Oh oh oh! Goodbye everyone! Goodbye bunnies and hare! Farewell, my fun, easy life! Goodbye scarlet carrots and crispy cabbage! Goodbye forever, my clearing, and the flowers, and the dew, and the whole forest, where under every bush a table and a house were ready!
I saw with my own eyes how a gray bunny lay down under a thin birch tree and died... I burst into three streams of burning tears and spoiled everyone’s mood, because I had to be calmed down, but I just roared and roared...
And then one night, when everyone had gone to bed, I lay on my cot for a long time and remembered the poor bunny and kept thinking how good it would be if this had not happened to him. How truly good it would be if only all this had not happened. And I thought about it for so long that suddenly, unnoticed by myself, I re-invented this whole story:
One two three four five,
The bunny went out for a walk
Suddenly the hunter runs out...
Right into the bunny...
Doesn't shoot!!!
No bang! No pow!
No oh-oh-oh!
My bunny is not dying!!!
Wow! I even laughed! How complicated everything turned out! It was a real miracle. No bang! No pow! I only said a short “no,” and the hunter, as if nothing had happened, stomped past the bunny in his hemmed felt boots. And he stayed alive! He will again play in the morning in the dewy meadow, he will jump and jump and beat his paws on the old, rotten stump. Such a funny, nice drummer!
And I lay there in the dark and smiled and wanted to tell my mother about this miracle, but I was afraid to wake her up. And eventually he fell asleep. And when I woke up, I already knew forever that I would no longer cry in pitiful places, because now I can intervene at any moment in all these terrible injustices, I can intervene and turn everything around in my own way, and everything will be fine. You just need to say in time: “No bang, no bang!”
That I love
I really like to lie on my stomach on my dad’s knee, lower my arms and legs and hang on my knee like laundry on a fence. I also really like to play checkers, chess and dominoes, just to be sure to win. If you don't win, then don't.
I love listening to a beetle digging around in a box. And on a day off I like to crawl into my dad’s bed in the morning to talk to him about the dog: how we will live more spaciously, and buy a dog, and work with it, and feed it, and how funny and smart it will be, and how she will steal sugar, and I will wipe up 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 it’s just tables.
I like to breathe with my nose into my mother's ear. I especially love to sing and always sing very loudly.
I really love stories about red cavalrymen and how they always win.
I like to stand in front of the mirror and grimace, as if I were Parsley from the puppet theater. I also really love sprats.
I love reading fairy tales about Kanchila. This is such a small, smart and mischievous doe. She has cheerful eyes, and small horns, and pink polished hooves. When we live more spaciously, we will buy ourselves a Kanchilya, he will live in the bathroom. I also like to swim where it’s shallow so I can hold onto the sandy bottom with my hands.
I like to wave a red flag at demonstrations and blow the “go away!” horn.
I really like making phone calls.
I love to plan, saw, I know how to sculpt the heads of ancient warriors and bison, and I sculpted a wood grouse and the Tsar Cannon. I love to give all this.
When I read, I like to chew on a cracker or something else.
I love guests.
I also really love snakes, lizards and frogs. They're so clever. I carry them in my pockets. I like to have a snake on the table when I have lunch. I love it when grandma shouts about the frog: “Take away this disgusting thing!” - 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 - and look, after five minutes it really becomes funny.
When I'm in a good mood, I like to jump. One day my dad and I went to the zoo, and I was jumping around him on the street, and he asked:
-What are you jumping about?
And I said:
- I jump that you are my dad!
He understood!
I love going to the zoo! There are wonderful elephants there. And there is one baby 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 gasoline.
I like to go to cafes - eat ice cream and drink it with sparkling water. It makes my nose tingle and tears come to my eyes.
When I run down the hallway, I like to stomp my feet as hard as I can.
I love horses very much, they have such beautiful and kind faces.
Victor Dragunsky.
Deniska's stories.
“It’s alive and glowing...”
One evening I sat in the yard, near the sand, and waited for my mother. She probably stayed late at the institute, or at the store, or maybe stood at the bus stop for a long time. Don't know. Only all the parents in our yard had already arrived, and all the kids went home with them and were probably already drinking tea with bagels and cheese, but my mother was still not there...
And now the lights began to light up in the windows, and the radio started playing 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 not made her sit on the sand and get 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 the dump truck.
- Wow! - said Mishka. - Where did you get it? Does he pick up sand himself? Not yourself? Does he leave on his own? Yes? What about the pen? What is it for? Can it be rotated? Yes? A? Wow! Will you give it to me at home?
I said:
- No I will not give. Present. Dad gave it to me before he left.
The bear pouted and moved away from me. It became even darker outside.
I looked at the gate so as not to miss when my mother came. But she still didn’t come. Apparently, I met Aunt Rosa, and they stand and talk and don’t even think about me. I lay down on the sand.
Here Mishka says:
- Can you give me a dump truck?
- Get off it, Mishka.
Then Mishka says:
– I can give you one Guatemala and two Barbados for it!
I speak:
– Compared Barbados to a dump truck...
- Well, do you want me to give you a swimming ring?
I speak:
- It's broken.
- You will seal it!
I even got angry:
- Where to 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 somewhere far, far away from me a tiny star was burning, and at the same time I was holding it in my hands.
“What is this, Mishka,” I said in a whisper, “what is this?”
“This is a firefly,” said Mishka. - What, good? He's alive, don't think about it.
“Bear,” I said, “take my dump truck, would you like it?” Take it forever, forever! 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 couldn’t 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 couldn’t breathe evenly, and I heard my heart beating and there was a slight tingling in my nose, 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 this world.
But then my mother came, and I was very happy, and we went home. And when they started drinking tea with bagels and feta cheese, my mother asked:
- Well, how is your dump truck?
And I said:
- I, mom, exchanged it.
Mom said:
- Interesting! And for what?
I answered:
- To the firefly! Here he is, living in a box. Turn out the light!
And mom 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, but this firefly, it turned out to be better than any dump truck in the world.”
Mom looked at me intently and asked:
- And in what way, in what way is it better?
I said:
- How come you don’t understand?! After all, he is alive! And it glows!..
You must have a sense of humor
One day 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 was holding a fountain pen, he was small and terribly cute.
Then Mishka says:
– Did you write it?
I speak:
“You check my notebook,” says Mishka, “and I’ll check yours.”
And we exchanged notebooks.
And as soon as I saw what Mishka wrote, I immediately began to laugh.
I look, and Mishka is also rolling, he’s just turned blue.
I speak:
- Why are you rolling around, Mishka?
- I'm rolling that you wrote it off incorrectly! What are you doing?
I speak:
- And I say the same thing, only about you. Look, you wrote: “The moses have arrived.” Who are these “mozes”?
The bear blushed:
- Moses are probably frosts. And you wrote: “Natal winter.” What is it?
“Yes,” I said, “it’s not “natal”, but “has arrived.” There's nothing you can do about it, you have to rewrite it. It's all the lemurs' fault.
And we began to rewrite. And when they rewrote it, I said:
- Let's set tasks!
“Come on,” said Mishka.
At this time dad came. He said:
- Hello, fellow students...
And he sat down at the table.
I said:
“Here, dad, listen to the problem I’ll give Mishka: I have two apples, and there are three of us, how can we divide them equally among us?”
The bear immediately pouted and began to think. Dad didn’t pout, but he also thought about it. They thought for a long time.
I then said:
-Are you giving up, Mishka?
Mishka said:
- I give up!
I said:
– So that we all get equally, we need to make a compote from these apples. - And he began to laugh: - Aunt Mila taught me this!..
The bear pouted even more. Then dad narrowed his eyes and said:
– And since you are so cunning, Denis, let me give you a task.
“Let’s ask,” I said.
Dad walked around the room.
“Well, listen,” said dad. – One boy is studying in first grade “B”. His family consists of five people. Mom gets up at seven o'clock and spends ten minutes getting dressed. But dad brushes his teeth for five minutes. Grandma goes to the store as much as mom gets dressed, plus dad brushes his teeth. And grandpa reads the newspapers, how long does grandma go to the store minus what time does mom get up.
When they are all together, they begin to wake up this boy from first grade "B". This takes time from reading grandpa's newspapers plus grandma's going to the store.
When a boy from first grade "B" wakes up, he stretches for as long as his mother gets dressed plus his father brushes his teeth. And he washes himself as much as his grandfather’s newspapers divided by his grandmother’s. He is late for classes by as many minutes as he stretches plus washes his face minus his mother's getting up multiplied by his father's teeth.
The question is: who is this boy from the first “B” and what threatens him if this continues? All!
Then dad stopped in the middle of the room and began to look at me. And Mishka laughed at the top of his lungs and began to look at me too. They both looked at me and laughed.
I said:
– I cannot solve this problem right away, because we have not gone through this yet.
And I didn’t say another word, but left the room, because I immediately guessed that the answer to this problem would turn out to be a lazy person and that such a person would soon be kicked out of school. I left the room into the corridor and climbed behind the hanger and began to think that if this task was about me, then it was not true, because I always get up quite quickly and stretch for a very short time, just as much as needed. And I also thought that if dad wants to make up stories about me so much, then please, I can leave home straight into the virgin lands. There will always be work there, people are needed there, especially young people. I will conquer nature there, and dad will come with a delegation to Altai, see me, and I will stop for a minute and say:
And he will say:
“Hello from your mother...”
And I will say:
“Thank you... How is she doing?”
And he will say:
"Nothing".
And I will say:
“Perhaps she forgot her only son?”
And he will say:
“What are you talking about, she’s lost thirty-seven kilos! That’s how bored he is!”
- Oh, there he is! What kind of eyes do you have? Have you really taken this task personally?
He picked up his coat and hung it back and said further:
- I made it all up. There is no such boy in the world, let alone in your class!
And dad took me by the hands and pulled me out from behind the hanger.
Then he looked at me intently again and smiled:
“You need to have a sense of humor,” he told me, and his eyes became cheerful and cheerful. – But this is a funny task, isn’t it? Well! Laugh!
And I laughed.
And he too.
And we went into the room.
Glory to Ivan Kozlovsky
I have only A's on my report card. Only in penmanship is a B. Because of the blots. I really don't know what to do! Blots always jump off my pen. I only dip the very tip of the pen into ink, but the blots still jump off. Just some miracles! Once I wrote a whole page that was pure, pure, and delightful to look at—a real A page. In the morning I showed it to Raisa Ivanovna, and there was a blot right in the middle! Where did she come from? She wasn't there yesterday! Maybe it was leaked from some other page? Don't know…