Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers


"Letters of Mizhappar"

(The short novel)

(In loving memory of the great humorist of Uzbekistan Hadjibay Tadjibayev)

The third letter of Mizhappar

Assalamu alaikum, Mr. Sitmirat! The other day I bought two packs of Indian tea, two scones with a kebab and went to prison to visit my friend and relative of Qurumboy. We arrived in colonies, where convicts are brought up, and near the gate of the prison I saw Qurumboy. There he fought with the police, and the police chased him, but Qurumboy did not obey them. One of the policemen said:

- Hey, What the hell, we are tired of you, go home, you are free! You have in your hands a legal document of the Supreme court on Amnesty. If this Amnesty gets you released, you know what will happen?!

- No, you have no right to release me even with the help of Amnesty! I want to stay in this prison for the rest of my life! Why are you violating my right to serve?! I'll write a cessation appeal to the Supreme Court! If he also refuses to review my case, I will have to complain to a human rights organization such as Hyman rights watch. They will raise a political scandal in this case, and this rumor will reach the President himself. Then you will be gone! You'll lose your fat job! - said Qurumboy.

The police ran together to the prison and hastily closed the iron gate, leaving Qurumboy on the street. Then Qurumboy started pounding at the gate with his fists.

-  Open the gate, you bastards! I want to go back to my own prison. - shouted Qurumboy, kicking the gates. The iron gate rattled with his blows as spring thunder in inclement weather before the noisy rain. The police were happy for the high fence and barbed wire of the city prison. They said:

- Knock, fool, knock! It still is not open!

- Okay, okay, okay! Let's make a deal, I'll come in and get my boots and come out! - Qurumboy, ceasing to Bang on the prison gates.

- Nah, we barely got rid of you! Better themselves will bring your smelly boots and pants with sticks but would not get infected by rabies! - said the policemen, and without forcing a long wait, threw the boots Qurumboy over the high fence of the prison. The policemen were shouting obscene words, Qurumboy wore his boots which have no soles. Then I went up to him and said Hello.

And Mizhappar? - he said, putting on his boots. At this time, from behind the fence came the voice of a policeman:

- Hey, bro, please, take this friend of yours away, for God's sake! He's boring! Such a ham, he probably, did not know the history of our prison!

Look at you, you want to be here! Go work on the cotton plantations, you parasite! -

- Qurumboy, let's go, friend. Do not drive Bird of happiness with a stick, which wants to nest on your head. Come on-, I said, calling him to reason. But Qurumboy didn't listen to me and he took a large stone near the fence of the flower garden, with full force threw it to the side of the prison. It is good that the soldier who stood on the tower, bent down and the stone flew towards the prison. There was a thump, and someone with a groan fell..
I started to calm Qurumboy, trying to persuade him to get away from that ill-fated place.

- Calm down, Qurumboy go home. They shot you using a stun gun with a telescopic sight -, I said.

Qurumboy, leaving, shouted to the police:

- Just you wait, bastards! I'll show you how to get an innocent man out of jail! I'll have each of you separate dirt! - said Qurumboy.

Calming Qurumboy, I took him to the bus stop. When we entered the yellow light bus, which looked like a loaf of Russian bread, the people gave us seats and we sat in the back seats. When the bus moved off, I asked Qurumboy:

- Hey,what's dirt?- Qurumboy chuckled back:

- Oh, you man, you have no idea what you got? Dirt is, the sins committed by the guard. Here, I've collected dirt on the rotten Cavel. One day I was sitting in the house with the poor, sipping kefir, let the Piglet in a circle, kicks, in short, and then rushed into the prison, the guard Qabil does frisk, and at the same time sniffing the air says:

- Do we smoke some pineapple?! Now get him out of here! Quick! What did I say!..

We were silent. well, this is, my mug that I usually drink kefir in.

-Qabil, you broke my mug, that would be expensive - I said.

- Oh, political socialism! You should be rewarded. Do you want to get the Nobel Prize?! International? - he asked.

- What's with the prize?..  I asked in surprise.

-Here's the award!  Qabil said and hit me in the head with his club. The blow was so strong that I lost consciousness. When I came to, I saw that my head and smashed through the wall, which tied my head inmates, oozing blood.

- Qurumboy, please. Don't argue with those Cavels. In ancient books, too, write about some Cain or Cavel, who killed his own brother named Abel with a stone. As the legend says, the Cavels were evil from ancient times, and it is useless to argue with them - I said.

Yes?! Oh, bitch Cavel! He killed his own brother Abel with a stone. Thank you, Mizhappar, thank you, karifan (Friend)! These pearls are added to the dirt I've collected on warden Qabil !  Qurumboy was delighted.

With such talk we reached the "Lattaqishlaq" and went through a wooden gate to the house where he was born and where he lived. The mother of Qurumboy wept after embracing his son, who returned from the Slammer. After we ate plov, which is made by Mother of Qurumboy in honor of his son, I returned home.

The next day, doing morning karate training, I noticed that in our mailbox the postman threw the letter. Since my training ground was on the flat clay roof of an old closet, I ducked down, making a triple somersault, and I looked into the mailbox. There lay a letter written on the dog's skin, with the help of a modern ballpoint pen.

The letter looked like this:

"Hey, Mizhappar!

My mother decided to get me married to a beautiful lady named Karahan. A sister came with her husband, and they persuaded me.

-Qurumboy, son, your father died without seeing your wedding. I don't want to die before your wedding. I want to babysit grandchildren while alive, said the mother, shedding bitter tears. I agreed. Come, friend, along with members of his family (with his stepfather and his stepmother), with friends and Mamadiar Yuldashvoy. I had been invited to the wedding of a human rights activist from the United States, Mr. Mackentosh, whom I met when he came to the Commission in prison to study the observance of human rights in prisons. Mr. Mackentosh wants to make a documentary about my wedding. The wedding is scheduled for tomorrow. Come and don't be late.
With respect, Qurumboy."

Oh, expenses again. Going to a wedding with nothing is ugly.  I thought.
I thought and thought then suddenly came up with a unique idea, and I screamed with joy in the voice:

- Eureka-aaaa! Hearing this, my sister's husband, that is, the son-in-law, who came to visit us, jumped up from the place of fright. He thought a fire broke out.

- What's wrong, stepson?! Why are you shouting like a Mockingbird in the night rainforest?! - asked my stepfather, putting one foot boots with cut shaft, and the other boots.

-Don't worry, my stepfather, Qurumboy married our family member and my friend from the village "Lattaqishlaq"! - I said.

- Oh, thank God, I thought our house was on fire again! - said my good stepmom. I decided to give Qurumboy a fur hat, which I made from canine skins orange for his wedding. The next day I wrapped the wedding gift in the newspaper and we went to the wedding on my bike with a biker wheel. My stepfather sits in front of the frame, and my stepmother sitting on the trunk with gifts in hand. Spinning the pedals, I go from time to time, ringing the bell, scaring off children on the road to avoid hitting someone. The road to our village is not paved, every step meets the puddles from yesterday's rain where the floating domestic ducks and geese, are munching, with the help of their beak related to wood, hoping to eat worms. They sounded unhappy when I bothered them. They reacted to us in their own way, nervously waving their wings. Finally, we came to the wedding. I congratulated my friend during the wedding at the entrance and gave him a gift. My stepfather and stepmother also congratulated Qurumboy, and we went into the courtyard, where the wedding took place. You see, Yuldashvoy with Mamadiar sitting at the table, with the guests and drank in honor of Qurumboy and his bride Barahona. I joined them. We sat, so we ate, listen to music and songs. Some dance. Here came Qurumboy and introduced me to a guest from America, Mr. Mackentosh.

- You know Mizhappar, Mr. Mackentosh, a human rights activist. It protects the rights of animals. Sometimes he protects humans, too, -said Qurumboy.
"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Mackentosh" I said, shaking hands with the human rights activist. After that Qurumboy addressed the American:

- Sir, can I introduce You with my friend. His name is Mishappar. They are very nice people. Mizhappar is working in a collective farm, he is a cold kolkhoz. Do you know where i am? -said Qurumboy with Uzbek accent.
- Oh, Yes, sir! im Not a kolkhoz! Thank You for introducing. Nice To meet You!  said Mr. Mackentosh-, shaking my hand mutually and with interest looked me in the eye with a smile, as a psychiatrist who works in a psychiatric hospital, which brought up the mentally ill.

Here the tipsy toastmaster, grabbed Mr. Mackentosh by the sleeve, as a vigilante enough of a violator of public order, and asked him to dance, too.
- Sorry, very Sorry, I dont know how To dance! - said Mr. Mackentosh, blushing from shame, with a guilty smile on his lips.

Then to his happiness Mamadiar and Yuldashvoy began to revive the ancient Uzbek tradition "tug a war", that is, to compete with the power, trying to take away the opponent's velvet tablecloth, after the bride and groom pass through this cloth on the track. Mamadiar pulled on the tablecloth and Yuldashvoy for himself. They were joined by other cool guys. A fierce battle for the tablecloth began. The crowd of guys moved in one direction and then the other. This sight was like a pack of hungry wolves that plagued the victim. The competing crowd of guys that with a crash amicably fell, then got up. Some fighters had blood in their hands and on their faces. But none of them wanted to let go of the tablecloth. Mr. Mackentosh scared, thinking that guys fight drunk. He took it all on video with great interest in the memory, then sitting, then lying. Here, the crowd suddenly hit the shed, in which were mounted the electric wires. From a powerful blow the beam broke, and the canopy with a roar fell to the ground, destroying everything that was attached to it. The broken wire, flashing a spark, as by welding, and short circuit something exploded. Then a fire broke out and the light went out.

- Oh, My gooood! Mamma, MIA! Something exploded! What was that?! - Mr. Mackentosh exclaimed.

When the joint efforts of the fire under control, the yard was plunged into darkness, as during the massacre of St. Bartholomew. People, started lighting matches, and began to go home.

There you have it, Mr. Sitmirat. Okay, then, I had to go to work. I have to carry pesticides for chemical treatment of cotton seeds. Sorry for the short letter. Hi everyone.

Sincerely, the farmer Mizhappar.


12: 00 Bartholomew night.

Collective farm of Vasily Chapaev.




132221451_gorod_Brempton (202x216, 31Kb)

Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

Дурадгор ёғоч, тахта ҳақида, дехқон сабзавот ё пахта ҳақида, чорвадор сигир қўй ҳақида, учувчи осмон тўғрисида, спортчи эса спорт ҳақида доимий ўйлагани ва гапиргани каби, ким нима ҳақида кўп гапирса ва ўйласа билингки, у кимса айнан ўша иш билан мунтазам шуғилланади.

Холдор Вулқон


(The story)

Stooped in envious vile and treacherous sorcerer Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar like an evil Penguin and he lives on the outskirts of the abandoned farm in a dilapidated empty chicken coop.The people of this farm have long gone in big and small cities, closer to civilized people to live humanly. Collapsed huts overgrown with weeds and sagebrush in the middle of the collapsed clay walls of ghostly white under the shining moon. In the cracks of clay walls singing crickets, stunning the quiet deserted night and Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar it seems that the singing of these crickets reaches to the heavens and their voices ringing dusk and the stars tremble like the tears on the eyelashes.The impression is that from barking stray dogs are the stars here that are falling down from the empty sky.Yes, justifying the concern Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar sleepy and tired stars fall from the heavens into the grass into the bushes on the cobwebs shining bijouterie evening dew, and the empty sky.The crickets are silent. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar not a poet.He only deals with translations of European, American, Canadian and Japanese poets in the night, till morning, looking her female face in the red light of a kerosene lamp in their coop and the weird, that he publishes these translations without any shame and embarrassment in local Newspapers and magazines not as translations, but as his works.He used to receive fabulous fees for published base translations produced in the form of books - copies.He got rich and even bought a car on the modification of "Volga".

Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar worked for many years at the same company, tricking all of his colleagues together with superiors at every step, in different ways.
Once the Goverment have allocated from the state budget a huge amount of money in order to re-equip the institution, modern technology of the new model. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar his old habit immediately developed a cunning plan of stealing and bought old technology in the bushes at the flea market almost for nothing and 99 percent of the transferred money to the new technology quickly cashed it, and pocketed them.

But has arisen discontent and disagreements between his accomplices.Then this discontent turned into a scandal. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar had close links with some officials in the upper chairmen - bribe takers, who secretly received bribes and covered their ass on the huge openings of the laws of the country, defending their despicable so-called "Peshents" like Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar from procuratory.But it turns out his cronies accomplices have additional leverage, that is the secret racketeers.So they came one night to Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar and forced him to give up all that he robbed the state, and bade him live in an abandoned farm one, but still in the coop, unless of course he still wants to live in this world.He was also assigned to cluck every morning like a cock, so, they can hear from far away. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar gladly agreed to this, thinking that he got off easy.

Since then, Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar lives on the outskirts of town in an abandoned chicken coop, clearly following the instructions of their supervisors each morning and crows loudly, extended his neck forward.Gradually, this activity became his habit.He waking up at dawn, unwittingly begins to crack. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar forced to changed their menu and became vegetarian.He eats not as much as before, cooked rice in sesame oil with Deer meat and quail eggs for Breakfast.Now he is satisfied mainly with the roots of trees. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar eat them with closed eyes from pleasure as Beavers while dining at the forest river. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar goes on the hunt for a roots night, when all people sleep and digs the ground with their hands like a dog, uprooting the juicy roots of the trees and eating them with a wild appetite.Sometimes he laughs silently, shaking his whole body, thinking about naive people who wonder, seeing dry trees in the gardens, on the edges of cotton fields, on the banks drying up of the Aral sea and over deep ravines, and not realizing that the roots of these trees don't eat worms or gophers, namely an empty Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Salaqulpanat Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar.He still suffers from hemorrhoids and inguinal hernia. These diseases greatly hinder him when he habitually wakes up at dawn and crows all forces.When his guts go beyond the abdominal cavity of the groin, he inhales them back into his gut by hand, moaning from unbearable pain and blushing like an angry Turkey.
One farmer(naive too) seeing his sheepskin coat weight in down feathers of chickens, said Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar similar to shoot the angel from which scattered the feathers.
Oh, how Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar laughed, hearing these words of the foolish farmer, as I laughed, shook, like a penguin!I almost burst out laughing, his hernia is like a bubble that forms during a rain storm.What a fool! How did he know?! Yes, Yes, Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar angel. But it is not easy.
He's fallen angel!

He sometimes whispers with a sigh, looking to the clouds that sail in heaven: -Oh how pretty they are! Their skin is like a bloated balloon, like a frog that sits at night under the moon in a pond on a Lily pad and sings selflessly, looking at the starry sky.The clouds are silent, meaning they don't grumble like my wife and if I marry one of those clouds, then I think it will never ask for or demand of me gold jewelry or clothing and that's fine!Oh, what are those white clouds firm Breasts mmmmm! - think Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar , looking into the clouds that resemble naked women as in the paintings of the ancient artists italian product Renaissance. But Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar immediately changed his mind after seeing a cloud shaped like a huge sexual organ of a donkey.Then he starts crying in his women's holy handkerchief, shaking the whole body and thinking that people underestimate his multifaceted talent that he has wasted.

Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar's talent is that he will build an Empire without soldiers, without a single soldier, with no weapons of mass destruction, without the drones, and the only one with feminine sweet look.It's enough that he had something. For example, he looked at the field, all assume that the field has become his possession.Looked at grape vinyards and peach orchards, they automatically become his property.Homeland too. Although he now lives in the hen house, but in the near future he intends to seize the lands of neighboring countries with his greedy and magical look.And then the whole planet with endless space.And there's other possessions of God, Paradise and so forth. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar is such a talented man, but lives in squalor in the coop.A paradox, isn't it? Nothing. To be an outcast in society is the destiny of the great wise hermit -think of it as something cheers himself. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar last year in the winter firmly convinced that words have magical powers. In those days, the snow fell so much that the ruins of an abandoned farm disappeared under thick snowdrifts. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar miraculously escaped death, thanks to an old lonely mighty maple that grew covering his chicken coop, the roots of which it feeds.Thanks to the maple chicken coop Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar survived during the hurricane and snow drill .When Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar was out on the red tunnel dug out from snowdrifts, frightened Marauder almost crapped his pants from fear and almost shot him, thinking that he is out of the den, some humanoid beast unknown to science.

- Can I answer that?! - said Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Salaqulpanat Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar, ahead of marauders, who were going to ask him a question, like who is he and what is he doing here in the middle of winter. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar marauder froze for a moment and quickly left, leaving him alone. Here's the magical power of words!

Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar sometimes it seems that it is a turbulent time between the two shores of good and evil and he can't stop even for a moment, at least grasping the branches of trees that grow wild on the gentle banks.This river is mad and she sometimes comes out of its banks, flooding Ganguly and fields, forming boundless floods, where over the surface of the mirrored waters freeze the trees in the background was bloody wicked sunsets to the waist in water, looking at his shadow with vultures on the branches. Shady trees are very similar, like twins, as the double Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar not in the mirror spill. Recently, night Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar heard a rustle and tensed, thinking that someone is going into the chicken coop.But he is in the light of the moon he saw a hedgehog with a raspberry nose which ran it's little legs through the ruins of Adobe walls, in search of goods. Finally it got lucky and caught the green grasshopper. Then it started eating it with a big appetite, shaking its cute little mouth.The night was so quiet that you could hear even the crunch of a grasshopper, which became a potential victim of a hungry hedgehog. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar knew that the meat of a hedgehog could heal hernia.Readers are well aware of, Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar tormented by an old inguinal hernia with the size of the head of an adult.So he decided to catch a hedgehog and be treated with folk remedies in the field.He took a shovel and ran for a hedgehog.In the light of the shining moon, his shadow lengthened like a shadow of the sinner at Plame hell.Seeing his shadow, Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar was scared.But free medicine and the desire to be treated with folk medicine still won the fear.In order not to miss the hedgehog Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar ran with all his might and caught up with the little fugitive.

-Where do you go, little boar with needle wool!You can't escape death!I'll cook you a delicious borscht, which treats me inguinal hernia and hemorrhoids! -shouted Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar and to cut off the head of a hedgehog he swung the shovel hard and the shovel broke. A hedgehog in this time has successfully manuvered and disappeared in ruins. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar returned to his close the coop and going with difficulty through the doorway, thought, secretly envied real poets and writers of the giants, whom did not fit into their vast homeland. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar couldn't sleep on an empty stomach.He went hunting in the middle of the night for the juicy roots of the trees.But root around to find it was not possible as all the trees have withered because they had no roots, which Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Salaqulpanat Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar ate.He walked with the basket in his hands to the side of the ravines, crossing a field under the starry night sky.The road was covered by the moon. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar marched in silence, dragging from fatigue and hunger and rhythmically rustling of his pants, which he wove layered paper bag found in the barn of the collective farm.It, to make it easier to walk, he decided to go on rails.Hungry and humpbacked sorcerer Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar was walking on the tracks, like endless stairs to nowhere and he suddenly had his feet stuck between the rails. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar howled in unbearable pain, looking at the starry sky, showing arteries in his neck, like a werewolf who got into a silver trap.Despite the pain Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar tried to pull his leg, but couldn't.In the light of the moon he saw the blood that oozed from his feet.The worst thing was that he got into a terrible trap, which it was impossible to open or to drag him along, to somewhere in a repair shop and ask for help.This trap was the heaviest and biggest steel trap in the world. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar knew that this steel is expensive trains and high speed.

-What a fool I am! What an idiot I am! Well, why was I on that infernal railway, why?! All, now I think the teahouse, I'm basically dead.The train is coming soon... Oh, my God.!What have I done to you?! Well, I cheated a little people and robbed people's money in colossal sizes from the state budget and bought a mansion! But you punished me once, driving to the hen-house located in ruins of the thrown farm where I still live one, eating roots of trees! How can so terrible and severely punish a man for stuff?! Oh, it hurts me terribly!Help me, God, before the trains come and hit me!Help me, I will not rust, I assure you! Free me and I will pray to you every day, every hour, every minute, every second, I swear! -he shouted, looking at the moonlit sky where the stars quietly, nonchalantly and indifferently shined its rays on the white sharpener of the moon. God or may not have heard the cry of Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar felt didn't want to help him.

It was silent, a terrible silence.

-Oh Lord! If you don't help me, freeing my leg from that stupid giant steel trap, I will go into opposition, that is sell my soul to your eternal rival, Devil, hear!I will join atheists - Communists, heretics, warlocks and I will fight against you until the end of the life!-shouted Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar in despair.

Then he fervently asked for help from the devil, too: -the Devil, and the devil! You hear me?! I know you can hear and see it all, but you're watching it all silently. Seen, God is not helping me.Would you please help me, I'll bring the Beers!

Free me from this trap and I will serve you all my life, deceiving the slaves of your eternal rival-God and day and night will Rob people's money in colossal sizes in various ways, sending them to foreign offshore accounts!I will provoke soldiers between Muslims and Christians, maja Jews and Buddhists so that these naive believers exterminate each other, leaving the infidels, that is us!I'll set fire to mosques! Blow up temples and synagogues! Trust me, the devil help meeee! - he asked for help from the Devil. But the devil was silent too. Even the devil did not trust Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar and didn't want to give him bony and hairy helping hands.And time went by and unbearable pain in the leg Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar increased. His leg was swollen from the size of telephone poles, and blackened. Threatened gangrene and amputation. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar cried from the pain and hopelessness, making a face.

-Yeah, atheists communists were right! It turns out neither God nor the devil exists in this world! I'm better off asking for help from kind simple and naive people.Naive people will give me real help, I know that... I know... and I'm one hundred percent sure... thought Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar and started screaming at the top of his lungs.

-People, help! I'm stuck on the railing. Well, who is out there! - he shouted with a voice of a wild man. But, to the settlement was far. No one has responded to his cries for help. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar crying in his women's holy handkerchief, moaning, trying to pull his foot from the rails, but it did not work.

And there, in the booth of points man of Railway, where the light was on, symphonic music sounded, the switchman sat there with his mistress, drinking vodka and passionately kissing her in soft lips instead of snacks.

-Let's get undressed, darling, better go to bed on the sofa. And then a chair is not convenient as it is to love-said the switchman, hastily throwing off their clothes.

- No, not now, darling. I don't want your Manager interrupted again our lesson on sweet and passionate. We take the train and then... - said the points man lover.

Yeah, don't you worry, my beauty, I already met the request of the Manager, and switched the railway and let go train yourself ... Come on, take off all your clothes and quickly lay down on the sofa, my fragrant marvelous rose - the points man said, hurrying his mistress to undress.

- Tsss , you hear somebody shouts about the help of far -said the mistress of the world, listening to the silence of the night.

- No, no, you're my incomparable mistress. It's probably the distant trains. Oh, how I love the sleepy cries of the midnight train! To be honest, I became a switch man for this romance. Sitting in the booth, at dusk and looking through the window at the shining moon and countless blue and red stars, Samara delighted in divine magic silence. And there, in the distance beyond the river and over the hills hear the sad echoes of the night trains. Trains go crying away like a sad caravan of cranes of the autumn, as the years that are fading, into eternity, as our friends, who passed away.Hearing their honks sometimes I silently cry -said the switchman, looking at the freckled sky shining on the moon, blunted his brooding eyes.

- Yeah, you talk like great writers and poets. I'm happy! I thank God for finding you. Only these days I started to live in the present, thanks to you. Why didn't I meet you before? How many years have I suffered, living with that moron impotent Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar who lives alone in an abandoned farm in an old chicken coop she said turning off the light and began to undress.

Oh, that's quite another matter -glad switchman, tearing with teeth a packet of condom and they lay on the rickety old pre-war torn sofa.

Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar all screaming and crying, calling people for help. It was so hard and long to shout that in the end he completely lost his voice, like a dumb. By this time, the train began to approach at a furious speed. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar met the train, staring eyes of fear and he did not even have time to scream. Hurdivan Mayus Binti Shipahonnozuk Loppibetdonduk Abu Ishvafa Ibn Iffar was hit by a train and dragged his body and head humpback vile and treacherous sorcerer like the evil Penguin had rolled down, where grew thick tall grass.


1:30 PM. the city of Brampton, Canada.



eb23ebae4e2f0a5747a3836a73a792433eb756231883193 (700x510, 39Kb)



132221451_gorod_Brempton (202x216, 31Kb)

Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers


Cruel payback

(The story)

- Mehmet, son, you must forgive me if I unwittingly upset you ever. I love you more than anything in the world - said Sultan Sanjar Savash, hugging his son and stroking his head.

Mehmet was surprised to hear the words of his father Sultan Sanjar Savash.

- Father, why are you saying that? It's too early for you to say goodbye. You will live in this world for a long time, and you will rule the country until old age. God grant you good health and a long life. I love you more than life, father! Just like my mother and my brother Ahmed - said Mehmet, hugging his father.

Sultan Sanjar Savas had tears in his eyes, and in order not to show their son, he hugged him even harder and kissed him on the head. His lips trembled, and his eyes involuntarily rolled tears, first in the face, and then his thick beard, like morning dew that showered with leaves of grass, which sways in the wind. That night Sultan Sanjar Savash did not sleep, walked nervously up and down the fiery red carpet. He felt like a predator in a cage, constantly looking out at freedom. He then called his eldest son Prince Valiahd (heir to throne) and Ahmed and they had a long conversation. During the conversation, Sultan Sanjar Sawash intended to tell Prince Ahmed something important, but could not. After the Prince had gone to his room to sleep, Sultan Sanjar Savash wept bitterly, shaking her shoulders and lamenting:

- Oh, God Almighty, you gave me more than I asked! I have become great sultans! But I didn't know that the crown and the throne are so ruthless and would require such a sacrifice! If I had known this before, I would never have become a Sultan! On the contrary, I would hang on his neck a sack beggars and lived life to the poor! Oh, my God, how happy are those poor hungry people of yours who live in slums! I envy them white envy! They are absolutely free and content with a piece of bread. They go where they want. Walk without protection on a footpath on wide fields where winds walk and larks sing, being filled in with a trill, morning stop in the middle of a rye field, where the rye carefree fun flying a swarm of white butterflies in heaven. Then again go where eyes look. Poor, unlike me, can freely roam the summer pastures, waist-deep in tall grass, where thoughtfully fly on the wind a feather in the wind, like a jellyfish in the sea. For hours he could hear the distant knocking of a woodpecker and the sad voice of a lone hoopoe, who sings somewhere over the fields, calling it as a distant childhood. Listen to the murmur of the river, overgrown by white daisies, Angelicas, sweet clovers meadows, can even sleep in the haystacks on the field under the starry sky, admiring silently Siauliai the moon in silence, listening to the monotonous, primeval songs of the crickets and choral croaking of distant frogs, like a whisper. To consider the distant blue star and tired to sleep. Wake up in the pre-dawn hour, when the quail will sing, reminding cough gray guard, who sweeps territory, rhythmically waving a broom. He freezes, looking at the pale sky, where it melts and slowly disappears, the last star and tightly stretching across the horizon torn pale yellow clouds, resembling a spring furrow. Your beggar washes of transparent dew eat Breakfast, than thou, you, will send, and goes on a long journey. The beggar does not even think about the possibility of poisoning: eat your Breakfast, thank you, and again hit the road, by walking along a path overgrown with two side’s high and dense grass. He greets farmers in the fields, nodding his head, with a friendly smile on his lips, stops for a moment, listening to the sad voice of the cuckoo, which comes from a distant poplar grove. The poor have no heavy burden of responsibility. They live easily, throwing off all unnecessary loads. They live happily and easily, in harmony with nature.

How about me? I can't get out of the fortress one step without strong security. Cannot move freely, as an ordinary person, can not only free to walk the fields and meadows, but can't even safely walk the streets of the capital of the Empire. I live with insuperable fear in my heart. Not sleeping at night, for fear, would you raise a riot the angry people, like a Typhoon in the ocean, destroying everything in its path, and with a shudder, I wonder if I will be hung on the highest gallows at the entrance to the Central market of the capital, dropping me from my throne, a people who are not satisfied with my policy. My heart is filled with blood when I start to think about my officials, the sycophants in his entourage that are easy to turn away from me when I fall from the throne of the Sultanate (government), and they will be the first to throw mud at me, praising the new Sultan! They will wag their Asses in front of the new ruler, throwing up his eyebrows and smiling lips, like a Bud of rosy morning rose.

Think, think and not can fall asleep until morning. Even sleeping pills don't help me.

It turns out that being a ruler is not as easy as I thought it would be. I was convinced that being a ruler is like burning in hell in life and boiling alive in a hell of a cauldron. What kind Punishment of, Lord?! Is it life, God, think about it! After all, even a stray dog, and it is happier than me a hundred times! Now, there's another unbearable ordeal waiting for me. Why are you punishing me, God?! What have I done to you?! - cried the Sultan Sanjar Savash.

He cried for a long time. Then he summoned his Prime Minister Vazir Azam. Vazir Azam came, not lingering long. Rather, it led Naukars (security service), in whose hands the feet of Wazir Azam not even touched the ground. He was wearing a long Oriental robe with a white turtleneck on his head. Have him not only the long beard and hair were white, but and eyebrows, too, were such a same color of.

- Called, my Lord, the Sultan of all the sultans of the world? -  asked Wazir Azam , not looking into the eyes of Sultan Sanjar Savash, and with a low bow.

- Yes, Vaziri Azam. You, this, tell me, don't we have another way to solve our problems? - Sultan Sanjar Savash asked, looking to his Minister with hope.

Vaziri Azam paused a second, plunging into meditation, and then said:

- No, my Sultan, unfortunately we have no other choice but... well, you know... If we want our great Empire not to collapse, then we just have to make this decision. Otherwise cannot be. That is a firm decision taken by Kiramaie Ulemas (The meeting of advisers) in closed session. As for Prince Mehmet, he is far inferior to Prince Ahmed in terms of thinking, mind and health. Oh, my Sultan of all sultans of the world! If you knew how hard for me to tell you all about it, Oh how hard! But I have to tell you this because I'm your chief Advisor. I feel sorry... - said Vaziri Azam, sadly bowing his head.

- Damn you all! Get out of here now, you scoundrel! And so you're never caught my eye! - Hysterically cried Sultan Sanjar Savash and hand his reached to the sword.

Vaziri Azam kneeled down and lowered his head in front of Sultan Sanjar Savash bitterly wept, shaking his snow-white beard and bony shoulders.

- Chop my head off, o my Sultan of all sultans of the world! Cut! It is better to die from your sword than to see you in this position! - He cried, dropping tears.

- Get him out now! - shouted the Sultan Sanjar Savash my security and cried, turning away to the side and wiping tears.

The guards took away Vazir Azam.

Early morning brought the executioner of the sentence, beheaded the sleeping young Prince Valiahd Mehmet sharp sword and wiped the white sheets crimson blood from the blade of the sword.

Before to bury Prince Valiahd Mehmet , brought the Princess, so she could say goodbye to his son, on whose death she did not know. Seeing the terrible picture, the Princess fainted.

Sultan Sanjar Savash, hugging his murdered younger son Mehmet, wept, shaking his whole body.

- Forgive me, son, for I have brought you a sacrifice! I'm sorry, because I had no other way! I had to do this just for the sake of not collapsing our Empire in the struggle for the throne between you and your brother in the future. I had to pay so much for preserving the throne. May your soul arrive in the green gardens of eternal Paradise, my beloved son Mehme-e-et! - He cried.



1:20 of the day.

Canada, The city of Brampton.

eb23ebae4e2f0a5747a3836a73a792433eb756231883193 (700x510, 39Kb)



132221451_gorod_Brempton (202x216, 31Kb)

Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers



(The story)

When the letter of the Commander of the Air Forces and Land Forces of General Thomas Yakkabaloon and his Deputy, Colonel Pascal Salvatore Alfons DE Valdemar came to the presidential office, Press Secretary of the President, Mr. Appalon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic, deep thought, stares at the envelope not knowing what to do.
There was a scary security team:

- Attention, all employees of the presidential apparatus! Close the door of their offices on the bolt and clear the corridor! Mr. President is coming! - cried the guard in the can mouthpiece. Press Secretary of the President froze as in the photo at attention. Finally in the corridor there was a President surrounded by enhanced protection. After some time the President of the country Mr. Apollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos, Dominic, came over and for a moment paused at the entrance of his gorgeous beloved, a spherical Cabinet. Before entering his office, he gave a cursory glance at the Press Secretary's Desk, where a pile of letters lay.

- Well, what news? What are they, again from the people, or what? Oh, how tired of these bastards anonymity with my eternal complaints. It's like I don't have other things to do than read these stupid letters, where they only write about their problems. There is not one person among them who could write not about his problems, but about the problems, if not the global scale, at least about those that relate to the problems of our state. Come on, give me that big envelope. Here I see something extraordinary. This letter, either from the leaders of other States or from the diplomatic corps of the Commonwealth - said, as if guessing, the President of The country, Mr. Apollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic, taking and looking at the envelope with interest. Then smiled widely, looking at the letter's address.

- Oh my, a letter from a mental hospital! - He exclaimed, and laughed, shaking her whole body. - Huwah-hah-hah-hah-hah-haaaah! Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-haaaaa! Wahahahahahaha! Look, the letter from the psychiatric hospital?! E-mine... This is the first time I have received such a letter during my 45-year presidency, honestly! I wonder what they write. That's supposed to be funny... - the President of the country, Mr. Apollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic, said, wiping tears into his huge checkered leaky headscarf, which turned on his eyes from laughter.
Logging in to his spherical, he unsealed the envelope and began to read the letter from the mental hospital patients, Commander of the Air Forces and Land Forces of General Thomas Yaccabaloon and his Deputy, Colonel Pascal Salvatore Alphonse DE Valdemar.

"President of our beloved country, Mr. Apollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic.

Mr. President!

Although healthy people consider us fools, crazy and other bad words, but we, patients of the Central madhouse of the capital of our independent country, paradoxically, are the most intelligent, the most brilliant people on the planet. We have famous poets, thinkers, philosophers of all stripes, psychics, clairvoyants, foretellers, great scientists, astronauts, valiant invincible generals, telepaths who read other people's thoughts, who declared themselves prophets and even gods, nomads of time, masters of the universe, defenders of humanoids in solar systems and in the nebula of the universe, great Opera singers with the voices of soprano, baritone, tenor. There are among us also disgraced leaders of opposition parties, drunken human rights defenders wearing torn clothes, are not your "colleagues". This raises the question: why should our state not take advantage of the free services of these capable, talented patients in solving problems that have arisen in the political arena of the world? To resolve issues our forces, force patients of our madhouse in area defense. We often hear that hundreds, sometimes thousands, of innocent, mentally healthy young soldiers of our country are being killed in the hot spots of our planet. What if to encourage us, psychopaths, paranoid schizophrenics, and the army are healthy guys, in the spiritual sense of the word? First, we are strong, healthy, brave, brave people. Secondly, we are not afraid of anything, and we have nothing to lose. Thirdly, we will not sit idly, on subsidies, as they say, around the neck of our poor independent state when our innocent young compatriots die in hot spots; - We are not interested, in neither money nor position, no prize, no titles, no medals. Also we don't need an apartment, no family and no other quite unnecessary things. We, i.e. valiant and brave mentally ill Motherland, can protect our territory from any invaders, including an extraterrestrial! And we think that at the front we will have much more fun than here, in a boring medical center, believe me, Mr. President. I never tire of repeating that we are very capable people and, it is only to teach us how to use firearms, how to operate anti-aircraft Missile systems, fighters and bombers and how to steal them, how to fly on military helicopters, "Shark", "Apache", to use nuclear submarines with cruise missiles of Intercontinental ballistic and so on, I can assure You and guarantee that our brethren of the disease will quickly learn that modern military science, no worse than mentally healthy talented students. They will be free to fly advanced supersonic jet bombers like hawks and bomb civilian points in the hot spots of the planet, flattening the beautiful city, the Orthodox and Catholic churches, mosques, synagogues, residential neighborhoods, factories, schools, hospitals, pharmacies, kindergartens in exactly, not leaving any living soul. Be sure that the army of schizophrenics and paranoids, using anti-Aircraft Missile Systems, will shoot down thousands of civilian airlines with hundreds of passengers on Board, getting into the top ten missiles, then in this monstrous crime to accuse the air force and air defense of the enemy!

With great respect,
Commander-in-chief of the Air Force and Ground Forces
General Thomas Yakkabaloon.

Deputy General Thomas Yakkabaloon, Colonel Pascal Salvatore Alphonse de Valdemar."

After reading the letter several times, along and across, the President of the country, Mr. Apollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic pondered, looking at the foggy look, in the armored bulletproof window of his ball-shaped Cabinet, like Hitler in his bunker.
- Yaaaa, here is this letter! Unlike healthy people in the spiritual sense of the word, they did not write about their problems, on the contrary, they write about the urgent problems of our society and the strengthening of the defense capability of our multi-national country. Although this letter from the mental hospital, but still worth thinking about their initiatives. Moreover, they promise to protect the Fatherland for free. If we realize their dreams, then immediately decreases the financial costs of defense, the army, armament, provisions, clothing and boots without soles millions and millions of pairs for our soldiers and officers, which we allocate every year a huge amount of money from the state budget. And these schizophrenics are ready to engage in any part of the world, protecting the interests of our country, without military uniforms, barefoot. They don't have to pay a monthly paycheck. They promise to perform any task of the party, at any time of day, even on 45 degrees cold in the winter and 55 degrees hot in the desert. How much Seeley and the funds will be scan online! Why haven't we thought about this project before? These living robots have nothing to lose. Those suicide bombers are not afraid of death. And these are, so-called, soldiers and officers, at the first danger run up, or, lying in trenches, shoot themselves in their foot and the hero comes back home, ringing bunches of awards and medals on a breast. To be honest, I did not receive such a proposal even from my military specialists, experts who receive a monthly salary in a huge amount in dollars. Parasites! No good from them! I must confess that I used to laugh to tears listening to jokes about the mentally ill. I don't think I laughed then. On the contrary, it was necessary to cry and weep in a huge and holey checkered handkerchief. That's how they reason. Wow, such brilliant people languishing in a madhouse of our large country! And we have these brilliant men supposedly treat! I think people who consider themselves healthy, it's time to go to the doctors to psychiatrists and treated properly as not exacerbated their mental illness. Yes, these people with unstable mentality, people prone to violence are dangerous for society. But if you think about it, I'm a hundred percent sure that we can solve a lot of problems. We will hold their doctors, nurses and caregivers, are fully accountable by summoning them, along with our patients, into the army and sending them to the hot spots of the planet. Today, the world is establishing total control not only over the people and over the Media, over the opposition, but even over the tsunamis, typhoons, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, etc. are we worse than them? We also know how to establish control over patients, through their doctors in white coats, who have cutting - edge equipment, stun guns, soothing drugs, tranquilizers and durable straight shirts with long sleeves. Most importantly, we will automatically get rid of unnecessary pickets and rallies organized by human rights defenders ' screamers, grantees defending the rights of mothers of millions of dead soldiers who return home in sealed zinc coffins from the battlefield, where they die heroically defending the economic and geopolitical interests of our state. Mentally ill and dead on the battlefield, not pathetic, not one, on the contrary, it causes uncontrollable laughter and people will laugh heartily, seeing on TV or hearing about their ridiculous death in bloody battles. In short, I must submit this bill to the Parliament immediately. Let our so-called deputies of both chambers and Senate sycophants, to discuss this strategic issue in closed session without a free press. It is clear that these so-called deputies and senators will never vote against what I propose to them. I don't need to worry too much about it - the President of the country, Mr. Apollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic, thought, Smoking a gold tube with diamond ornaments stuffed with expensive flavored tobacco.

The President of the country, Mr. Appollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic, before submitting the draft to the Parliament, decided to first meet secretly with the authors of the secret letter and instructed his security forces to organize a secret conversation with the authors of the letter from the loony bin. Security forces clearly and accurately complied with the order of the President, and brought two geniuses in the striped pajamas, barefoot and bareheaded, and having dressed them in costumes of the officials in white shirts with starched collars and ties. They worked so jewelry that even assistants to the President of the country Mr. Appollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic, seeing those two patients in civilian clothes, took them for high-ranking guests from abroad. During the conversation it turned out that these two are capable of, not what is there to solve the problems concerning the strengthening of defensibility of the country, but also to create completely unimaginable fantastic things, to come up with unique and unheard of ideas and hypotheses.

President Appalon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic, hugged both, and cried.

- Excuse me, gentlemen, and don't be surprised. It is the tears of happiness in my eyes tremble like a distant star in the cold December sky of our independent country, where our people drown their stove with dung. I want to ask your forgiveness, Lord, for our psychiatrists who correctly putting a diagnosis, put you in the psychiatric hospitals of our country, forced to drink the nasty liquid and pills. Tutors beat you like punching bags suspended in underground gyms. Please also apologize for our countrymen who were just cracking up and still laugh at you, telling each other funny jokes about you, laughing!, I today personally was convinced that you, so-called patients with a mental illness, in one thousand, and even millions times is smarter, than our deputies and officials-bribe takers! It turns out, we mistakenly locked genius people not only our country, but our planet in mental hospitals! I will issue a decree tomorrow to release all your brothers out of our independent country's mental hospitals due to illness and to lock the doctors, psychotherapists and caregivers in their place. I will order the authority to arrest all of my assistants, sycophants, poets and writers, officials, and deputies of Ministers takers and parasites. They do not do anything, but receive large salaries in us dollars, and the citizens of our country because of total unemployment go to other countries, hoping to find at least some work there. They agree even on dirty work, in order to find a piece of bread and feed their family. They work as janitors and guards, work in garbage dumps, almost for free. Everything, I will carry out personnel shift in all spheres of our society, that is I will appoint the chief assistants to the both of you, and also I will order that deputies of Parliament of both chambers and senators of the Congress appoint only those people who were earlier treated in mental hospitals of our long-suffering and the desert state. Governors of regions and districts, including chairmen of collective farms and villages, will also be appointed from brilliant people, that is, from your brothers for illness. All governors and presidents of the current system will now be treated for life and forced into psychiatric hospitals until they are fully recovered. Both of you can now accept the post of any Minister, and I congratulate you in advance, gentlemen! - The President said, concluding his speech.

General Thomas Yakkabaloon and Pascal Salvatore Alfons de Valdemar, in return, expressed his gratitude to President Appollon Gabriel Toledo, Puerto Carlos Dominic, for the warm welcome, mutual understanding and high trust. Before leaving, Colonel Pascal Salvatore Alfons DE Valdemar appealed To President Appollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic :

"I have a little surprise for you, Mr. President, close your eyes," he said.

The President closed his eyes with a smile on his lips.

- Now open, Mr. President! Colonel Pascal Salvatore Alfons de Valdemar spoke.

President Appollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic opened his eyes and saw the key that Colonel Pascal Salvatore Alfons de Valdemar had given him.

At the sight of the key, the President's heart fluttered, and his eyes widened.

- No, thank you, Mr. Pascal Salvatore Alfons de Valdemar! What an honest man you are! Where did you find it? It was in the pocket of my pants!

With these words, President Apollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic quickly checked the pockets of his trousers and blushed in shame, finding a hole in his Trouser pocket where the key to the carpet might have fallen.

- I found this key here, under this chair, where I was sitting. I think, I will select it and I will give to Mister the President of our country Apollon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic, maybe, I think, the President incidentally lost the key of the modest Studio apartment located on the suburb of the capital of the country where he lives with the big family plus with mother in law - the Colonel Pascal Salvatore Alfons de Valdemar - explained.

- Oh, no, no, Colonel Pascal Salvatore Alfons de Valdemar! It's not the key to a one-room apartment; it's the key to a nuclear suitcase! You have no idea what heroism you have committed before my eyes in the face of our long-suffering people! You saved the nation! Well, this key does not fall into the hands of my insane Ministers, which I have long not trusted. After all, these parasites corrupt, could easily sell terrorists this priceless key for a pack of green bills! And there would be a third world nuclear war! Not, in my opinion you saved not only the nation, but all mankind from the apparent death, from the third nuclear war! I was awarded the Order of Hero of the Fatherland of the first degree! You are now the national hero of our country! With today's military title not Colonel, and Marshal! Thank you on behalf of our oppressed people and on behalf of all mankind, Mr. Marshal Pascal Salvatore Alfons DE Valdemar! - The President said with delight.

- Serving the Fatherland! - Cried Pascal Salvatore Alphonse de Valdemar, saluting President Appalon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic. When both officers of high rank came from the Palace of the President of Appalon Gabriel Toledo Puerto Carlos Dominic, General Thomas Yakkabaloon congratulated with a high military rank of his colleague and brother due to illness.

- I congratulate you, Mr. Marshal, with high status as! - He said, proudly and greening with envy.

- At ease, General, at ease! Thank you for the congratulations - said the Marshal, Pascal Salvatore Alphonse de Valdemar, slapping on the shoulder and the head of General Thomas Yakkabaloon.

General Thomas Yakkabaloon continued:

- Excuse me, Mr. Marshal, on one hand; to achieve such success is good. But on the other hand, I'm afraid you and I have missed a historic opportunity. If we could hold the key to a nuclear suitcase, we could force the President to dissolve the Government and Parliament and to step down as President. After all this, you would sleep well tonight, and Wake up in the morning the President of the country! Eh, what a chance missed, my God! - Said General Thomas Yakkabaloon.

- Yeah, don't you worry, General rag shoulder straps, I'm not such a fool as you think! When I went to the bathroom, I took off the key of the nuclear suitcase, pushing it on this piece of soap. Now for this mold, we can make a duplicate key nuclear suitcase. As they say, not yet evening. There is still time for me to become the President of the country, and to you - the Minister of Defense! The weight of the world is in our hands! - said Marshal Pascal Salvatore Alfons DE Valdemar with insidious and cunning smirk on his lips.

28 /08/2014.

3:40 of the day.

Canada. The city of Brampton.



Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

"One day, Qurumboy managed to bribe one of the guards, and this bribe taker brought me a secret letter from Qurumboy. To be honest, at first I was afraid to open the envelope, thinking that Qurumboy in his letter scolded me, probably worth. No, on the contrary, he even thanked me for being in prison. The content of the letter was as follows:
- Hi, Mizhappar! Thank you so much, my best friend, for helping me go to jail, I’m given three times a day for free bread and clothing. In short, people live here better than at will. You, and even my family, let them as soon as possible after committing some heinous crimes, will sit in the dock and that would be to lengthy periods of imprisonment, hire additional prosecutors, together a lawyer. If they find a way, they'll be empty for life, because in the wild they can die from lack of food and without clean water,
with great gratitude, your friend Qurumboy."


"Letters of Mizhappar"

(The short novel)

(In loving memory of the great humorist of Uzbekistan Hadjibay Tadjibayev)

The second letter of Mizhappar

The letter writing now, as well as the first letter let raging like a Typhoon or tsunami tropical shores of the ocean, will reach the hands of Mr. Sitmirat, who lives in the high mountains, over blue seas and the boundless forests in far Canada, thoughtfully Smoking his tobacco. Hello, dear Mr. Sitmirat. If you ask me, then I go dragging my foot cloth made from red slogan that stretches sticking out my torn tarpaulin boots without soles, bothering  the evil, stray dogs, laugh of children that ringing laughter ran after me, pointing to my tarpaulin boots without soles and shouting in unison, like a pack of monkeys. Now I will write about news. If I start with good news, the picture emerges something like this. My age and a relative who lives in the Village ‘’Lattaqishlaq’’ Qurumboy thundered in the Slammer. Generally, he himself is to blame in this. It was like this. When we met him in the center of our village, Qurumboy told me that he has for me is very interesting news and he says the news only when I make a feast, slaughtering one sheep. -Well, there is no market. Our life is beautiful, our sky is clear and our bread is not expensive. You tomorrow evening along with Yoldashvoy and Mamadiar come to an abandoned pigsty, one sheep with me. I will arrange as they say, a magnificent Banquet in exactly, and there you will tell me that important news - I said. On the following day, according to my promise, I slaughtered a sheep with paws and a collar around its neck, without a muzzle. Poor so whined as if begging me so I let her live, sorry. - I'm sorry, buddy, I must lead you in victims. How else are my friends drinking vodka? Guess there's nothing to eat. We have to make you a healing soup called "Kuksi". So, good bye, my friend, I said, and I stabbed her with a sickle. What to do? I'm not Robespierre, to have a sharp guillotine. In short, I made a healing soup, where the meat was swimming sad poor dog. Seeing these delicate, Qurumboy refused to eat. He said – I will not eat dog meat. Yoldashvoy said that if vodka, then not only he is ready to eat dog meat, but donkey meat. After these words, I was just forced to bring a couple of bottles of vodka from the center of the village. After the first cups of vodka my friends played appetite, and they began to drink soup and eat dog meat, licking their fingers. Then I had to run again for vodka in the center of the village "Chapaev". We had a nice drink and we were cold. You see, the eyes of my friends slightly cross eyed and they are hard to hear words. They moved lazily, like a zombie. I got scared and began to ask Qurumboy about the news, which he promised to say. - Well, Qurumboy, out now the news you promised to tell. Tell me before it faded mirror of the mind - I said. Qurumboy picked off their used skullcap. Then come you didn't stay up from the inner pocket of his soldier's overcoat, filled her tobacco and began to smoke. - Well, Mizhappar - he said, smoking his pipe. - In short, your letter which you wrote on a roofing material, oppositionists published on the website - he told, having long and loudly rumbled. Look how ill-mannered he is. You are called on you, Mr.Sitmirat! The website said. Hearing his words, I began to climb the roof. - Uh, Qurumboy, why treat a respected Mr. Sitmirat what you are. Such a respected father, and you call it a Website! Not good - I said. Qurumboy in the place ashamed began to laugh. I was doing Kung Fu. I have a simple leather belt from pantaloons black in karate. Looking to the side lying sickle with a wooden handle, wrapped with blue duct tape, with the help of which I recently stabbed a poor dog. I grabbed the sickle, and rushed at  Qurumboy. I only began to decapitate, appeared the local policeman, a friend of Shgabuddinov with a gun in the hands of mark "Mauser". - Hands up and face the wall! Shoulder width feet! Tell who! What's going on, huh?! Why fight, you bastards?! Answer me now! I'll shoot you on the spot without trial or investigation! - He shouted, nervously waving his "Mauser”.
-Qurumboy called respected man, Mr. Sitmirat’s  website -I said. Hearing my words, local policeman Shgabuddinov freaked out! He called Sitmirat of Sattarovich Site?! Oh you bastard, you redneck, how dare you call our beloved chief?! Do you even know who he is?! He, for twenty years headed the largest and most feared prison in the world! Such a commander called the site?! Well, consider yourself dead. I'll show you what's what! Come on, gather round, Scorpion green, let's go to the station, there we'll talk one on one!  - Said local policeman Shgabuddinov. Then, with a kick in the ass, took Qurumboy to the station, after this incident of Qurumboy was tried and sentenced to long terms of imprisonment, rightly said our ancestors that words are stronger than nuclear bombs. Because of the word of Qurumboy put on nine years! To think only! Uzbek poet Cosimiy knowingly wrote.


The Nightingale sang, sitting on a branch,

Because of the song he got in the cage.

One day, Qurumboy managed to bribe one of the guards, and this bribe taker brought me a secret letter from Qurumboy. To be honest, at first I was afraid to open the envelope, thinking that Qurumboy in his letter scolded me, probably worth. No, on the contrary, he even thanked me for being in prison. The content of the letter was as follows:
- Hi, Mizhappar! Thank you so much, my best friend, for helping me go to jail, I’m given three times a day for free bread and clothing. In short, people live here better than at will. You, and even my family, let them as soon as possible after committing some heinous crimes, will sit in the dock and that would be to lengthy periods of imprisonment, hire additional prosecutors, together a lawyer. If they find a way, they'll be empty for life, because in the wild they can die from lack of food and without clean water,

with great gratitude, your friend Qurumboy.

As soon as I read the letter of my friend, the Barber Usta Garib, Cycling through the streets of our village, with a loud voice called the people to the funeral called Muslims "Janaza". It turned out that last night died the mentor and chief of the local policeman Shgabuddinov Sitmirat Sattarovich, that is, your swine. Poor, Sitmirat Sattarovich was still quite young. Last year, he just turned eighty nine years. I used to think that leaders do not die, that is, they live forever. I miscalculated, find themselves leaders, too, and die. When the call to Gansu, every Muslim is obliged to go and attend this event. Leaving this law, I'm wearing my tarpaulin boots, which gave me for the birthday a son-in-law, that is, my sister's husband, who works in the fire Department. Then put a cotton vest on clapped on the head of his old, worn skullcap put on jeans. When I came to the house late Sitmrat Sattarovich, there were heads of all kinds and grades mournfully bowed their too smart super gravy, crossing his hands like a rake with which they raked the bribe, and, in large amounts. The local policeman Shgabuddinov here, too, sadly bowed his head, polished his service weapon by brand "Mauser" in the sleeves of his worn shirt, as if he would kill himself due to despair. Over the grave of Sitmirat Sattarovich roared hired plurality that came from bazaar. They were crying, tearing their hair and dresses to shreds, pretending to be in sisters and daughters of Sitmirat Sattarovich:
- Oh, father, why you have left us?! As we are now without you going to live?!
- Oooooh, my brother! You yes he was very young! What very long arms you had and incredibly short, crooked legs! What a bloated belly! What was your long thin neck and small head and bulb shaped head made from narrow-minded! You were a scythe and no you have a chin! Oh, the nose?! Your nose was like a potato! I do not believe that such a beautiful person like you is dead! You're probably faking it! Will the angels die too?! A whole twenty years he directed the terrible prison! Now orphaned yours, oooo, and my handsome brother! How will the poor convicts live without you now?! - They roared. Then the team no beard mullahs in tuxedo black light, we lined up on jeans near the tomb of Sitmirat Sattarovich. - Comrades, will be sold with! Now we read janaza in honor of our dear head of Sitmirat Sattarovich. Attention! – Said the beardless mullah, adjusting his tie, like a butterfly. We adopted the Attention and beardless Mullah saying, "Eyes left!"I approached the portrait of the deceased, and then long praised wise sitmirat Sattarovich. He had long read the praises, already got bored around. In the cold February air, the snow began to fall lazily, like dandruff of unkempt human hair. Then I accidentally saw their tarpaulin boots, I almost laughed. It turns out that in my rush I put them on inverted, that is, the left to the right foot and the right on the left leg. Here it was not possible to disguise them. Suddenly I saw the face of a bearded Mullah and laughter intensified. Because of this the mullahs, who wore on his head a black skullcap with plastic wrap covering it. His teeth were like the teeth of a rabbit, that is, these large teeth sticking out even when Mullah tightly closed his mouth, his teeth was still showing. If that was not enough, the voice beardless Mullah was like the sound of a saxophone. I can't guarantee not to laugh in these situations. Laughter accumulated in me like water in a reservoir and I started to laugh silently, clenching my shoulders. I would have stopped my laughter if I do not see in front of a man dressed in his shaved Fantomas above the head skullcap wrapped in a plastic bag. I'm laughing and raze I can't will stop. Then one man, who was standing next to me, turned out to be a strong devil, and began to laugh. No sound either. We looked at each other and laughed at each other stronger, blushing until neck from tension. It turns out; laughter is also like a plague spreading fast. You see, other people have caught on to this epidemic and began to laugh in unison, laughing. Then we were joined by itself the beardless Mullah and he too began to laugh, shaking his stomach. I see the owners of the corpse are giggling, too. Here I laughed in a loud voice, others too. Thus the funeral of Sitmirat Sattarovich turned into a Comedy. These are the things we have, Mr. Sitmirat. Okay, I have to go to the cotton field. Say Hello to everyone,
sincerely, worker of the collective farm “Chapaev” Mizhappar.

February 2, 2008. 13 hours and 22 minutes a day.

The collective Farm "Chapaev".



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