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Великий русский юморист Геннадий Хазанов, который мы уважаем от чистого сердца.

 

 

Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers




The Watchman

(The story)





This story is dedicated to the great Russian humorist Gennady Hazanov.






Duglat Dutarovich works as a watchman at a log warehouse. His replacement, Ivan Baltazarovich Spiridonov, recently died, and he was buried in the city cemetery with all honors. Despite the fact that Duglat Dutarovich is a Muslim, he still decided to go and attend the wake of his late replacement Spridonov Ivan Baltazarovich. The deceased was an Orthodox Christian and even wore a small wooden cross on his long neck. On Sundays, he went to church, lit candles for the repose of the souls of his departed parents. When black clouds were approaching and a thunderstorm began, rattling with thunderclaps, Ivan Baltazarovich Spiridonov, looking at the sky, crossed himself widely, asking his god Jesus Christ for salvation. But for some reason, God did not save him. Either he did not pray as he should, or God did not hear his prayers. It so happened that he tragically died. When unloading the wagons, the cable of the crane suddenly broke, and poor Ivan Baltazarovich Spridonov was left under the rubble of huge logs. Oh, life is an echoing tin can. The person was alive just yesterday, rejoiced, and now he is gone.
With such thoughts, Duglat Dutarovich went into the room where it was planned to celebrate the wake. Candles were burning on the table, and drinks, snacks and all sorts of delicious things were neatly laid out. Rudolf Makarovich Nikiforov, the head of the department, was the first to take the floor. Holding a glass of excellent vodka in his hand, he began to say:
- Dear last guests of our late compatriot Ivan Baltazarovich Spiridonov! Let us remember our dear faithful friend, the modest and honest caretaker of our log warehouse!
All the guests together, as a single organism, got up from their seats with glasses of moonshine in their hands. Everyone was standing without a headdress. Only Douglat Dutarovich was wearing a skullcap, since it is not customary for Muslims to attend funerals and other events without a headdress. The guests, of course, paid attention to his headdress, but no one began to make comments to him. Everyone reacted calmly, with understanding and tolerance.
- Ivan Baltazarovich was truly a great person!- Rudolf Makarovich Nikiforov continued, - As far as I know, he never wished harm to anyone. he always helped with everything he could. Unfortunately, a disaster happened, and our dear friend Baltazarich was left under the rubble of pine logs, which he loved, which he called his countrymen from distant Russia! Whenever birch logs were unloaded from the car, he secretly cried, wiping his tears with a cap and whispering "my poor white birches! You are lying here, instead of growing up under the low windows of Russian huts, swaying and ringing in the free wandering wind!" - he said with tears in his eyes. As if hearing his touching words, the pine logs also wept silently, dropping amber resinous tears. Oh, what a magnificent person with an open soul we have lost! This is a great loss for our friendly team! Dear Ivan Baltazarovich, sleep well, let your grave's ground be soft and your soul in paradise! - in conclusion, the head of the department Rudolf Makarovich said, crossing himself finely. He then drank the vodka in one gulp, emptying the faceted glass.
Everyone repeated the movements of zavsklad Rudolf Makarovich, except Duglat Dutarovich, who could not cross himself in any way. His hand did not obey him. But he drank a glass of moonshine to the bottom, and putting his lips to his sleeve, overcoming the burning of the strong drink. After that, everyone sat down together, ate, drank, talked, remembering the deceased with a kind word. Then they ate and drank and talked again. Meanwhile, Duglat Dutarovich got drunk and began to cry bitterly. It was as if all the moonshine he had drunk had seeped out of the cracks of his narrow eyes, turning into bitter tears. - Poor Baltazarich! My friend! Seni Khudo rahmat kilsin, dostim! (Allah bless you, my friend!) - he cried, continuing to speak:- You lived in Uzbekistan, but you always thought about your distant homeland, which is Russia. Do you remember when we used to roast Russian vodka from cups in the guardhouse of our warehouse? Outside, snow was falling, covering the roofs of houses, the road, trees and neatly stacked pine and birch logs. The guard dog in the kennel was barking lazily.Snowflakes swirled weightlessly under the hanging creaking lantern, like a swarm of mosquitoes. Divine silence reigned. It was as if the neighborhood had fallen silent to listen to the gentle rustle of snow. After drinking the next shot to the bottom, you said that not only money brought you to work, but also the smell, the resinous aroma of pine logs, which reminds you of the smell of Russian coniferous forests, where your carefree childhood passed! You often wore a skullcap and a chapan, you loved Uzbekistan. You spoke fluent Uzbek without an accent. You have always said that Uzbekistan is your second homeland and all the people who live in this sunny country, regardless of race, nationality, traditions and religious affiliation, should live in peace and harmony, respecting and piously observing the Constitution and laws of our sovereign state of Uzbekistan and speak the state language. That's why we all loved and respected you, Vanya! You were our red-haired Uzbek.We will never forget you... What a ridiculous death, oh, my God?!- he cried into his skullcap.
One of the people present began to calm him down.
- Easy, brother. Why are you crying? Well, what are we supposed to do? The time will come when we will die and we will be buried again. Edo paddock briroda, bonimaezh? Here, drink this homemade rye brew, which was made a year ago. It'll make it easier for you, " he said, handing him another portion of murky moonshine in a faceted glass.
Duglat Dutarovich drank the contents and passed out completely. He woke up under a wooden fence, where nettles were swaying in the wind. He stood up quickly. He found his skullcap, shook the dust off it, put it on his head and looked around. He felt ashamed. He then staggered down the sidewalk. Passer-byes avoided him, not wanting to run into a drunk person and get themselves into unnecessary problems. Everything inside Duglat Dutarovich was burning. He was terribly thirsty. It seemed to him that he could not quench his thirst, even if he drank the whole ocean to the bottom. He was delighted to see a water tap from which transparent water, the moisture of life, was noisily pouring out. Duglat Dutarovich rushed to the water tap and began to drink water directly from the tap, putting his mouth to the pipe. Grabbing the faucet with his hands, he greedily drank water. But he couldn't get drunk. Douglat Dutarovich was even scared, thinking that he had gotten diabetes mellitus. Wiping his mouth with his skullcap, he continued on his way, walking along the sidewalk like a zombie. He felt like a soldier on the battlefield who was crushed by an enemy tank. He really wanted to rest somewhere and get some more sleep. Douglat Dutarovich was also afraid of patrol and post policemen who could send him to a sobering-up center.
With such thoughts, he went to the bus stop and sat down on a bench. Then he lay down, covering his head with the edge of his jacket, and fell asleep. He was woken up by a man of about forty-five, tall, dressed in a tuxedo and with a bow tie around his neck.
- Hey, comrade, wake up! Why are you lying here? Are you feeling ill? "No, I'm fine," he said. I was just sitting here and fell asleep without noticing it myself, " Duglat Dutarovich replied, getting up and adjusting his skullcap. - Well, thank God. I thought... But you will forgive me if I interrupted your sweet dream, in the most interesting place-said the stranger, smiling politely. - No, no, sir. Everything is fine. My name is Douglat. Duglat Dutarovich. I work as a watchman in a warehouse - Duglat Dutarovich introduced himself.
- What a meeting! It turns out that we are colleagues, dear Douglat Dutarovich. I'm glad to meet you.My name is Abu Insan ibn Diyonat, - the man in the tuxedo said.
- Yes? I can't believe it. Judging by your clothes, I can assume that you work as a watchman in a large international bank. Or work as part of a special unit and protect the president of the country - said Duglat Dutarovich.
- This is a trade secret, dear colleague. Wherever we work, our work is very responsible and difficult. When everyone is sleeping a sweet sleep, we work with you, we go back and forth, guarding property, when the moon is shining quietly and the stars are burning like diamonds in the high sky... Why are we standing here? Let's go to a cafe and continue the conversation over a cup of tea or coffee, " suggested Abu Insan ibn Diyonat.
- Well, that's not a bad idea-agreed Douglat Dutarovich.
- And, talking, they went in the direction of an expensive restaurant.
Seeing this, Douglat Dutarovich stopped.
- Excuse me, colleague Abu Insan ibn Diyonat, where are we going? This is an expensive restaurant! There are such expensive dishes there that even my meager symbolic monthly salary will not be enough for half of a portion! - Duglat Dutarovich said, stepping back.
- Oh, come on, dear colleague. Don't be afraid. I'm treating you - Abu Insan ibn Diyonat reassured Douglat Dutarovich.
- Well, if you are treating me, then, perhaps, we can look in, - said Douglat Dutarovich.
They went into a luxurious restaurant and sat down at a table on which fresh roses smelled in porcelain vases, silver spoons and forks with knives lay, candles burned on gilded candelabra. Rich people in tuxedos and bow ties were sitting around. They drank cognac, ate caviar and smoked fragrant cigars. On the stage, one thin and shaggy musician selflessly, constantly closing his eyes, played Strauss' music on the violin. Some gentlemen danced with their ladies to the beat of the music. The waiter came with a white towel on his wrist and a notebook in his hands.
- What will you order, gentlemen? - the waiter asked politely with a pleasant Gagarin smile. The watchman Abu Insan ibn Diyonat, having studied the menu, ordered three dishes and French cognac with Scottish wine, plus dessert. Hearing what Abu Insan ibn Diyonatordered, the watchman Duglat Dutarovich almost got up from his seat and ran out of the restaurant.
- How can we afford such a thing, dear colleague?! - Duglat Dutarovich became worried - This is the food and drink of the rich! You and I are just pathetic watchmen. If you are counting on me, then stop this madness immediately, before it's too late! I don't even have enough money to ask how much one serving of food costs in this restaurant!
- Well, what are you so, eh, colleague? People are looking at us. I promised you that I would treat you. You sit quietly and don't worry. We will celebrate our meeting with you properly, " said the watchman Abu Insan ibn Diyonat.
- Well, all right, colleague, all right. But remember, I warned you in the presence of this waiter. I will not pay a penny if there is any problem with the payment. That is, all the responsibility falls on you - said Duglat Dutarovich, perplexed and not understanding the actions of his colleague. The waiter left. Douglat Dutarovich looked with fright and surprise at the rich visitors of the restaurant and at the huge crystal chandeliers, at the mirrors, at the shaggy musician who was playing Strauss in a trance, deftly moving his bow. The violin was crying, and people were laughing, laughing, glasses were clinking. Finally, the waiter brought everything they had ordered.
- Well, where do we start, colleague? With French cognac or with Scotch whiskey? - Abu Insan ibn Diyonat, the watchman, asked.
- I don't care. I am ready to drink even ink or kerosene.If only there was a buzz, - said Douglat Dutarovich, thrusting the tip of a napkin into the collar of his checkered winter shirt, wielding a jingling silver fork and knife, as if preparing to eat in an aristocratic way.
- Well, then we will drink French cognac, - said the watchman Abu Insan ibn Diyonat, pouring cognac from a crystal decanter into thin glasses that tinkled.
- Come on, colleague, let's drink to our meeting! Abu Insan ibn Diyonatsaid, raising his glass.
And, clinking their glasses, they drank the first shots. The cognac was pleasant. Colleagues first had a snack, then they began to eat super-expensive delicacies with an appetite. The watchman Abu Insan ibn Diyonatwas eating the first course. Looking at him, Douglat Dutarovich put down his fork and knife and also took a spoon. He began to slurp the delicious soup, dipping bread into it. Then they drank again and continued to eat.
At this moment, a group of rich people came into the restaurant. Among them were women in expensive dresses, with gold rings on their fingers and with gold chains on their delicate necks. Suddenly one of the men of this company stopped abruptly and, looking at the watchman Abu Insan ibn Diyonat, was terribly happy.
-Oh-oh-oh, that's da-a-aa! Our dear host, Mr. Abu Insan ibn Diyonat, is also here, it turns out! Hello, boss! - he said and, going to the table where his colleagues were sitting, greeted the watchman Abu Insan ibn Diyonatin an embrace. He also greeted Douglat Dutarovich, firmly shaking his hand. The other members of the company also ran to Abu Insan ibn Diyonatand began to greet him, hugging him tightly. The women kissed Abu Insan ibn Diyonat. But when they saw Duglat Dutarovich, their mood changed dramatically,and their ringing laughter stopped. They looked at Duglat Dutarovich as if he were an unwashed savage, as if he were a steppe gopher. Abu Insan ibn Diyonatintroduced them to Duglat Dutarovich.
- This, Duglat Dutarovich, is my colleague! - he introduced him.
- Oo-oo, your colleague?! Wow! The director of a large corporation, then! It was very nice to meet your friend, a successful and modest businessman! - the guy said, shaking hands with Duglat Dutarovich again.
Hearing this, the women smiled again and began to laugh, stretching out their tender hands to Duglat Dutarovich.
- Very nice! My name is Matlyuba! And my name is Malika! - they smiled.
- What a grand meeting, my God! Hey waiters! Let's connect our table with the table of our esteemed boss! - the guy shouted.
The waiters quickly connected the tables, and the company sat down at them, as if at a banquet, as at a magnificent wedding. A real feast of aristocrats began. Horse, whiskey, wine, fun, laughter, laughter. The man raised a glass to the health of the watchman Abu Insan ibn Diyonat, said the following:
- Dear host, Mr. Abu Insan ibn Diyonat! Today, reading the stock exchange news in the American magazine "Forbes", I learned that your fortune today is one trillion dollars! Please accept my congratulations, dear Abu Insan ibn Diyonat!
-Thank you, my friend, - Abu Insan ibn Diyonat said. Hearing this, Duglat Dutarovich's jaw dropped in surprise. -No, it can't be like that! It's either a mirage or a dream. Or some kind of practical joke. These rich aristocrats are probably mocking me, he thought. Meanwhile, the fun continued. More toasts, clinking glasses, laughter, dancing and all that.
After these words, Duglat Dutarovich got drunk again. He got up from his seat with a glass in his hand and began to speak: - Dear colleagues! I want to tell you a funny story! - In short, my wife and I, in order to boost the economy of our family, sometimes work in two shifts. One day I told my wife, who works as a cleaner at school, that I would wake her up at midnight, when our children were asleep and we were doing important things. She said that this is impossible, since we have the same room and our children sleep next to me. Also my mother. A little bit that they can wake up. I'm saying, don't worry, honey. I made it up. In short, we will carefully tie your big toe with a thin rope with a sea knot, then, when our children fall asleep with my beloved mother-in-law, I will pull the rope and you will wake up. She agreed. I tied my wife's big toe with a rope and began to look forward to the historic moment. Our children and my beloved mother-in-law finally fell asleep. My wife, too. - Just right - I thought, my eyes flashing in the pitch darkness and pulled the rope. Then my wife jumped out of bed in fright, shouting: - Waaaay! Wai daaaad, what is this?! Help! Hearing her scream, the children woke up. My mother-in-law, did too. They started screaming in terror, hugging each other. -I say to my wife: - why are you shouting, you fool! It's me! Have you forgotten our agreement?! But they were all shouting, trembling with fear.Then, frightened by the noise, our cat jumped, turning over pots and other utensils in the kitchen. And there our angry dog began to bark loudly and nervously. Then the chickens in the coop began to cackle, the geese began to cackle with a trumpet voice, the turkeys made a noise, blushing up to their necks, the cows began to low like ferries on a foggy river, the sheep and goats also bleated with all their might from fright. Our pigs grunted terribly, screamed, as if they were being slaughtered. As if this was not enough, our donkey began to search, stretching his head out of the stable doorway, closing his eyes and showing his large front teeth. Hearing the noise, the neighbors began to wake up one by one, turning on the lights and not making them wait for a long time, they came running in a crowd with pitchforks and rakes in their hands, thinking that a gang of robbers armed to the teeth had broken into our house. Someone called the police and a masked assault team quickly arrived with machine guns in their hands, as well as an ambulance with a fire brigade, with a heart-rending scream, howling sirens. The police interrogated the witnesses, drew up a protocol and took me away in an ambulance to a madhouse - the watchman Duglat Dutarovich said, finishing his story.
Listening to his story, the rich people laughed for a long time, dying of laughter. Especially Abu Insan ibn Diyonat.
When they went outside, a single moon was shining in the sky and the stars were twinkling. Duglat Dutarovich wanted to say goodbye and leave, but Abu Insan ibn Diyonat held him back.
- Wait, where are you, a colleague, going for the night looking? Here are the guys who will take you home on these carts, " he said, pointing to expensive Lamborghini and Rolls Royce limousines. Douglat Dutarovich swung like a pendulum and, looking at the watchman Abu Insan ibn Diyonat, said in surprise:
- I'm sorry, colleague. I'm kind of perplexed. You're... hick!..they told me that you also work as a watchman. And you, it turns out, are a billionaire! Or me... hick!.. are you imagining all this? That is, you are a billionaire, not a watchman... It is not good to deceive and mock poor people, Mr. Abu Insan ibn Diyonat, - he said.
-So what of it? - I'm a trillionaire.But I, in fact, am also a simple watchman, just like you, dear colleague. Yes, yes, don't be surprised...Here you are guarding the property of the warehouse, right?! And then what is the difference between me and you, if I live every day, every hour, every minute without days off, guarding my wealth, which is spinning in the major banks of the world, gold and diamonds stored in safe vaults in Switzerland, as well as securities, such as stocks and bonds on the stock exchange, watching day and night for the fall of indices in the financial market and then.I have only recently come to the conclusion that all these years I have not lived, but only worked as a watchman, day and night, carefully protecting my wealth, my life, the lives of my loved ones. It turns out that from the president of the country to the common man, everyone is a watchman and protects themselves, their family, their country and their property from someone or something in this crazy world in this fleeting life, having never learned to protect themselves from their own desires, which lead to deep disappointment at the end of our life - Abu Insan ibn Diyonat explained.
Then Duglat Dutarovich woke up and saw a policeman.
- Citizen, stand up. You can't sleep in public places, - he said.
Duglat Dutarovich got up, asked for forgiveness and walked along the path towards the log warehouse, remembering that he had to change his new replacement tonight.




06/10/2014.
4: 30 p.m.
Brampton, Canada.




 

 

Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

 

- When we entered your cave, your wife said that you were 750 years old. Your daughter is 170 and your son will soon turn 300. Is this true, or did I hear it wrong?
- Yes, it's true, Lainjon Lanat. I'm actually 750 years old. Do I look older or something? - Baltabalyk said.
- That's just it. You look very young. I just wonder, how can a person live so long? - Lainjon Lanat was surprised.
- And what, people don't live so long on your Earth? - Baltabalyk asked in surprise.
- Our people live on average 50-60 years. We have polluted air, countless factories were smoking day and night all over the planet, releasing carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and the radiation is off the scale, - Yakan ibn Hakan replied.
- What are you guys joking about? - Baltabalyk was surprised again.
- Honest pioneer- said Lainjon Lanat.
- Well, you poor earthlings! Our monkeys even live longer than you! - Baltabalyk exclaimed.
- If people on Earth would live as long as you do, then our dictators would sit in the presidential chair for 2000 years!

 

 

Yakan ibn Khaqan


(The fantastic story)







The endless quarrels of his wife simply exhausted Yakan ibn Khaqan and forced him to fly to the planet "Gurrabash" to bring back precious stones, exchanging them for dung. It turns out that in Gurrabash, dung is the most expensive material, like gold and diamonds here. And precious metals and precious stones have no value, like dung on our globe. Yakan ibn Khaqan had been preparing for a long and dangerous flight for a long time, carefully checking the technical serviceability of his flying saucer.Then, taking his driver's license and passport, he flew to the planet "Gurrabash", loading as many dung as possible into the trunk of his flying saucer, which he collected in the meadows all summer. His saucer flew at breakneck speed through space rocks such as meteorites, asteroids, fragments that sometimes crashed into the thick bulletproof windshield of the aircraft unit. Despite this, the spacecraft of Yakan ibn Khaqan continued its journey through the vast expanses of boundless space, illuminating its way with powerful headlights. Yakan ibn Khaqan was most afraid of falling asleep, because falling asleep he could commit a space catastrophe and die. Therefore, in order not to fall asleep at the helm, he began to sing the song of the great Uzbek singer from Fergana Tavakkal Kadyrov "Ohshaydiku" to the poems of the poet Hamza Hakimzada Niyazi, who was brutally killed by religious fans, throwing stones at Shakhimardan. Yakan ibn Khaqan flew for a long time, until near the air restaurant, some strange type of tall, skinny, like Shaitan, stopped him with a spacewalker, raising his thumb up. Yakan ibn Khaqan stopped his aircraft and a man in a spacesuit climbed into the cockpit.
- Close the door and fasten your seat belt! - said Yakan ibn Khaqan.
-Well, thank you very much, my friend, for helping! I'm all frozen. I was flying to a neighboring galaxy and on you, the flying saucer on which I was flying broke. I did not spend money on its repair and waited for the arrival of mechanics. Besides, it's not mine. I rented this wreck from a neighbor. I thought, I'd better catch some passing flying saucers and fly on. I don't like flying on cosmo beads. It's full of bad drunk humanoids... Do you recognize me? "What is it?" he asked suddenly, smiling slyly.
-No, I don't remember you. Maybe we crossed paths somewhere, saw each other, I don't know, - replied Yakan ibn Khaqan, casting a cursory glance in the rearview mirror.
The fellow traveler continued: - It's me, Lainjon Lanat, who caused you a lot of evil. Remember, we were once sitting at Ibn Nigman's house, drinking vodka, and when we ran out of booze, you flew on this old flying saucer of yours for vodka, disappearing into a snowstorm. That's when I delivered a heavy blow to Ibn Nigman's head with a tire iron. When he fell with a bloody head on the floor, I cleaned out his pockets, took money and jewelry , and to get rid of the body, I threw the corpse of ibn Nigman into a deep snow-covered ravine. I thought that a pack of hungry wolves would eat his corpse, leaving no evidence. Your passport in a cellophane cover, which I stole from you along with the money when you got drunk, I also threw the passport into the ravine. Then disappeared into the forest. The impenetrable blizzard was still raging. In the spring, when the snow melted, the police found the body of Ibn Nigman, rotting beyond recognition, and your passport. Then you were detained, suspected of murder, and then you went to jail. So you've been in prison all these years because of my sins. I think that today we were met by fate itself, from which you can not escape. I deeply regret what I have done and I really want to ask you for forgiveness, Yakan ibn Khaqan. It would be nice if you would forgive me.
Yakan ibn Khaqan was silent and calmly flew to himself, without taking his eyes off the space-air road, instead of rushing at the vile Lainjon Lanat and strangling him.
- Or maybe you want me to apologize to you in writing? Lainjon Lanat asked, smiling.
- Yes, I think so. Preferably in two copies. I will keep one for myself, and the presiding judge will attach the other to the criminal case in court, - replied Yakan ibn Khaqan, also with a smile on his lips.
Then he added: "You know, Lainjon Lanat, I am sympathetic to sick people, in the spiritual sense of the word. The same applies to vile and envious types and stupid brainless animals, - he said.
With such conversations, they continued the flight until the super-high-speed space ship of Yakan ibn Khaqan fell into an air pit resembling a concrete mixer, where numerous fragments of meteorites drummed on the body.
- It's started! - Yakan ibn Khaqan said, clutching the steering wheel of the aircraft with all his strength with blue fingers. The flying saucer trembled, losing altitude and abruptly began to descend, as if the heart of Yakan ibn Khaqan had sunk into its heels. The fall lasted a long time. Lainjon Lanat screamed in horror: - Yakan ibn Khaqan! Do something! Oh, my God! - he shouted, crying and spinning like a stone in a concrete mixer.
- Now, Lainjon Lanat! Now, ain't the moment! - Yakan ibn Khaqan said, trying to take control of the recalcitrant machine. At this time, they both saw high rocks that flashed on the monitor and shouted in fear: - Aaaaaaaaaaa!
It is good that Yakan ibn Hakan was able to establish control over the car. After that, the flying space ship flew at high speed between two rocks. Then, slowly losing speed and barely touching the snow with his belly, he began to fly low over the snow-covered fields. Yakan ibn Khaqan pressed the brakes and they worked. Finally, the Flying saucer, taking a deep snowdrift near the forest cordon, stopped. Yakan ibn Hakan and Lainjon Lanat sat for a long time in a state of shock in the cabin of the flying saucer. Then, gradually coming to their senses, they began to thank God that he had left them alive. Their legs were still shaking from the fear they had experienced. A lump the size of a small lemon formed on the forehead of Yakan ibn Khaqan. Lainjon Lanat was sitting with a broken head and crying with happiness. After a while, Yakan ibn Hakan opened the hatch and they climbed up. They came out of the cabin of the flying saucer that had made an emergency landing and thought, not knowing what to do and where to go. It was snowing, a blizzard was humming. Against the background of snow, it was possible to distinguish the surrounding area. Suddenly, at the foot of a high cliff, they saw a small cave where a light was burning.
- I feel intuitively that there is someone there, - said Yakan ibn Khaqan and headed towards the cave, stumbling and falling into the snow. Lainjon Lanat followed him. When they came close to the cave, they saw a man with a crossbow in his hands, tall, broad-shouldered, with long hair, and a serious face, dressed in animal skin, presumably a wolf.
- Hello, sir! We, this, came from the planet "Earth". Maybe you've heard of it? There is such a planet in the universe where earthlings produce chemical, biological and bacteriological weapons of mass destruction, cruise, ballistic intercontinental missiles with nuclear warheads to destroy each other, comparing the beautiful cities that their ancestors built with the earth... Oh, sorry, we didn't introduce ourselves. I am an entrepreneur Yakan ibn Hakan, and this passenger's name is Lainjon Lanat. We are taking dung to the planet "Gurrabash" to exchange them for gold and diamonds, " said Yakan ibn Hakan.
The man with a crossbow in his hands, looking at the screen of his compact translator device, began to say:
- Hello, gentlemen aliens! Welcome to our planet. I am very glad to meet you. My name is Baltabalyk-the device translated the words of the man with a crossbow.
- It was nice to meet you, Mr. Baltabalyk. We were flying through the boundless space together, but unfortunately our Flying saucer broke down and we had to make an emergency landing here. Is there a repair shop for spacecraft in the vicinity? We need to repair our saucer and fly on. We will pay for the repair with priceless dung, " said Lainjon Lanat.
- Yes, don't worry about it. We have a repair shop for aircraft of any modification.There are also enough spare parts and qualified mechanics who will help you. Only we have such a tradition - to meet aliens as their relatives and treat them with what God has sent, no matter from which galaxy they have arrived.So, first I invite you to visit. Come to me, dear aliens - said Baltabalyk.
- The Earthlings agreed and followed the alien. When they entered the cave, Baltabalyk introduced them to his wife.
"This is my wife, Mrs. Matilda, - he said... Yakan ibn Khaqan wanted to shake and kiss the tender hands of Baltabalyk's wife, but it was not expected. Baltabalyk's hostile wife met them, as they say, with hostility. She started yelling at Baltabalyk and a compact translator device began to translate her words into our language.
- Why did you bring these parasites, why?! Well, why do we need guests when we have nothing to eat ourselves?! When will you finally come to your senses, you fool of fools?! When?! Tell me, where did you find them?! They only look like a person! Maybe they are werewolves or zombies infected with rabies, how do you know them?!.. Oh, why did I even marry this idiot, for God's sake!.. Mrs. Matilda said, and began to beat her face with her hand, as if punishing herself for marrying Baltabalyk by mistake.
Hearing the words of his grumpy wife, poor Baltabalyk blushed deeply with shame. And his wife kept grumbling: - He's already seven hundred and fifty years old, and he's still like a little boy! Naive loser, as he was a fool, so he remained! Our daughter is already 170 years old, and our son will soon turn 300! They should be married! And for what money, I ask? In order to have a normal wedding, it takes at least 45-50 thousand shilatans! Who will give us such a sum of money?! We have to get them on their feet! Otherwise, my father will turn over in his flying coffin!.. While saying these words, the woman began to cry into her leaky apron. Baltabalyk said quietly to Yakan Ibn Hakan and lainjon Lanat - Let's get out of here, Earthlings. The new friends went out into the street, where a blizzard was buzzing, whirling snow flakes in the gloom. The diamond dust of snowflakes did not allow them to open their eyes. They followed Baltabalyk, protecting themselves from snow flakes with their hands, looking back from time to time.
- Mr. Baltabalyk, where are we going?! Lainjon Lanat shouted, walking heavily in the thick snow, through a snow vortex.
- To my office! - Baltabalyk exclaimed without looking back. They headed towards the high cliffs. The distant howling of polar wolves could be heard. Finally, they came to the cave where Baltabalyk works. The guests came to the door and shook the snow off their clothes. Baltabalyk took the keys and opened the door. They observed that it resembled the cabins of a huge helicopter, as there were many different devices, sensors and buttons. The floor was covered with the skins of some kind of animal with long hair. There was a small window on the wall of the cave.
- Here, my friends earthlings, this is my office. I work in this hole, " Baltabalyk said.
- Excuse me, please, Mr. Baltabalyk, What do you do here, if it's not a secret? - Yakan ibn Khaqan asked.
- My work is not hard, but it is responsible. I work as the main sun igniter and sun extinguisher of our planet. I turn on the sun in the morning and turn it off in the evening to somehow save energy. You see, the moon and the stars are real, but the sun is artificial. Well, what to do if our planet is far from the sun? The work is interesting and romantic. I get 99 shilatans per month. This is not enough, of course.But I'm not complaining. On the contrary, I am happy when I see children playing in the sun, cheerfully and together shouting like seagulls on the shore of the sea. The time of the year changes every two weeks. Today is the last day of the second week. That is, the end of winter. Tomorrow morning, the long-awaited spring will come.Migratory birds will arrive from the south. The most interesting thing is that our plants are also adapted to the seasons and they grow quickly, right before our eyes. The trees also hurriedly open their buds, open their leaves and bloom. And there is summer, autumn, winter again, and so on, " Baltabalyk explained.
- Yes, you have an interesting planet and your work is unique, - said Lainjon Lanat. Then he continued: - excuse me, I have another question.
- Please, what is the question? Baltabalik smiled.
- When we entered your cave, your wife said that you were 750 years old. Your daughter is 170 and your son will soon turn 300. Is this true, or did I hear it wrong?
- Yes, it's true, Lainjon Lanat. I'm actually 750 years old. Do I look older or something? - Baltabalyk said.
- That's just it. You look very young. I just wonder, how can a person live so long? - Lainjon Lanat was surprised.
- And what, people don't live so long on your Earth? - Baltabalyk asked in surprise.
- Our people live on average 50-60 years. We have polluted air, countless factories were smoking day and night all over the planet, releasing carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and the radiation is off the scale, - Yakan ibn Hakan replied.
- What are you guys joking about? - Baltabalyk was surprised again.
- Honest pioneer- said Lainjon Lanat.
- Well, you poor earthlings! Our monkeys even live longer than you! - Baltabalyk exclaimed.
- If people on Earth would live as long as you do, then our dictators would sit in the presidential chair for 2000 years!
- Excuse me, Earthlings, I'm leaving you for just a few minutes. With these words, Baltabalyk went to the next room. A few minutes later, he appeared with a large tray in his hands, where there were smoked crabs, fish and fruit. Before starting to eat, Lainjon Lanat took out a bottle of vodka from his back pocket and said:
- Mr. Baltabalyk! I want to drink with you at the bruderschaft for our acquaintance! With these words, he opened the bottle and poured vodka into faceted glasses. Yakan ibn Khaqan refused to drink.
- We will not pour Yakan ibn Khaqan. He can't. He's driving with us. And we will drink to you, to the health of your beautiful blue-eyed wife, Mrs. Matilda. Come on, take a glass and let's go! - Lainjon Lanat said, handing the glass to Baltabalyk. He smiled in response and took a faceted glass of vodka. Lainjon Lanat was the first to drain the glass, gulping down the contents. Then, while eating, he made a gesture that Baltabalyk would also drink. He drank the vodka in one gulp and choked heavily. He coughed and clutched his throat with dilated eyes, and was terribly scared, thinking that Lainjon Lanat had poisoned him.
Lainjon Lanat began to calm him down:
- Don't be afraid, Baltabalyk! It will pass now! eat, eat this!..
Baltabalyk had a bite and he felt much better. The strong vodka made his eyes water. Wiping his tears, he said:
- What a drink you have, Earthlings! I almost died!
Yakan ibn Khaqan and Lainjon Lanat were laughing. Baltabalyk too. Lainjon Lanat again filled the glasses with burning vodka to the brim and handed one of them to Baltabalyk. looking at the glass in fright, Baltabalyk refused to drink. Lainjon Lanat was offended
- I'm not taking No for an answer! Because now we will drink to the most important thing! For the cosmic friendship of the peoples of all the planets of the universe!
- Well, if for the friendship of the peoples of the planets, then I will drink it, - said Baltabalyk with a hiccup and drank the contents, emptying the garnished glass to the bottom. Lainjon Lanat too. After the third glass, Baltabalyk became completely intoxicated. He kept smiling, lazily making speeches. He laughed and giggled like a madman. After the fourth glass, he completely fell to the floor and fell asleep like a dead man. Lainjon Lanat too. Yakan ibn Khaqan sat for a long time at the window, thoughtfully looking at the snow, which was still falling in the darkness, where a blizzard was whistling, whirling snowflakes like white flies. Then, yawning widely, he also went to bed. They woke up in the afternoon, from a stupid knock on the door. Baltabalyk went to the door and opened it. A short, hunchbacked man with squinting eyes, thin as the mummies of the Egyptian pyramids, came into the office. He was holding a long and crooked staff with bells in his hands. The hunchback was yelling at Baltabalyk:
- What are you doing, Baltabalyk?! It's already twelve o'clock in the afternoon, and you're still asleep and still haven't turned on the sun!
- Sorry, sorry, Mr. Chief sorcerer-said Baltabalyk and hastily turned on the sun.
- I can't forgive you. You have caused great damage to the agriculture of our planet! The farmers were late with the sowing! Come on, write an application for your release from your post at your own request! The hunchbacked sorcerer ordered, rattling the bells that hung on his sleeve.
- Mr. Sorcerer... I won't be late anymore. Please don't kick me out of work. How am I going to feed my children without this job? My little son is barely 99 years old. I haven't been able to marry my 170-year-old daughter for so many years. I have to marry my son, who turned 300 years old. I am the only breadwinner in the family. If I lose my job, then my evil wife Matilda will kick me out of the cave. Where will I go then? Baltabalyk pleaded.
- No, you should have thought about it earlier! Write a statement and don't come here again if you don't want trouble! - said the hunchbacked sorcerer.
After these words, Baltabalyk had to vacate the room and they went outside. It was sunny outside and the snow was melting. The water gurgled and the streams flooded out. Larks were singing over the fields. Steam rose from the fields. The grass began to grow hastily right before their eyes. The trees have spread their leaves. Spring! But this did not please Yakan ibn Khaqan. Because poor Baltabalyk was kicked out of work because of them. If Baltabalyk had been sober, he would not have overslept.
- How will I live today? Now I'm finished, my alien friends. My wife will not let me into the cave - Baltabalyk sighed sadly.
- It"s nothing, cheer up, Mr. Baltabalyk! - Lainjon Lanat encouraged him.
- Fly with us to other galaxies and get married to beautiful humanoids there. Why do you need such a grumpy, harmful wife who does not respect you? It's very easy to find a job there. Get a job as a janitor and you will clean up nuclear waste, thoughtfully shuffling a broom in the predawn hour in deserted courtyards. Or you will open your own brothel, you will work as a pimp - said Lainjon Lanat.
Baltabalyk, looking sadly into the distance, said:
- I'll help you with the repair. But I can't fly with you, my earthlings friends. Because I love my home planet and I can't live without it, even if the sun is artificial! In a foreign land, I will simply wither, inconsolable longing for my planet, looking at it from afar through super-powerful telescopes! I was born in these parts, and I will die here, - Baltabalyk said.
- Don't make me laugh for God's sake, Baltabalyk! Don't be so naive. A man must be determined! Let's travel through the vast expanses of boundless space, while we are alive and well! Yakan ibn Khaqan will build a large factory there, where cotton will be processed.We will be engaged in the space business! From there, we will transport home on a caravan of flying saucers, cotton waste called "uvada", from which our compatriots sew coats, cotton blankets - blankets and other things. We'll get rich! Well, don't be sad... Spit on this planet, which underestimated you. Is this a planet!? You live damn, without even having a normal sun! Just tell me where these mechanics of yours are. As soon as we repair our flying saucer, we'll be on our way right away! The trumpet is calling! Lainjon Lanat said.
Baltabalyk kept his word by hiring repairmen and they repaired the aircraft. When the repairmen finished their work, Lainjon Lanat took another bottle of vodka from the glove compartment of the repaired flying saucer, which he hid and said:
- This case needs to be washed properly. We will drink to the mechanics on the hood of the flying saucer... When he started to open the bottle, Baltabalyk stopped him: - No, don't! Please don't open it! This drink of yours turns out to be very harmful to the human body. I only drank once and lost my job! I am afraid that I may lose my life a second time. No offense, but I will never drink this stuff again! - He swore.
Lainjon Lainat was offended: - Well, if you don't want to, we won't force you, - he said. Then he greedily gulped down the fiery-burning vodka several times, holding the bottle to his mouth like a pocket flask. After that, the three of them sat on the flying saucer and flew.
In order not to fall asleep during the flight, Lainjon Lanat began to talk.
-There are rumors that our hypersonic intercontinental cruise missiles with nuclear warheads are not weapons, but a slingshot in comparison with the weapons created by space terrorists of some galaxy, now, unfortunately, I do not remember the name.
They have invented a terrible reactor with which you can push one solar system against another. Then the whole universe will explode, can you imagine?! What kind of weapon is it? Lainjon Lanat said, looking through the monitor at the flying fragments of space rocks and at the stars. Then he continued, turning to Baltabalyk, who has a compact translator device powered by a solar battery.
- You know, Baltabalyk, the life that you have lived on your planet is not a life but a real nightmare! You did not live, your life was like an impersonation. Let's go to a place where happiness awaits us, there you will feel the taste of real life... - he said, wetting his throat with vodka along the way.
Then a small fragment of the cosmic mass hit the windshield of the flying saucer and Baltabalyk was scared: - Oh, damn! Beware, Yakan ibn Khaqan! Maybe you are tired of living, but I personally do not want to die!.. What a horror! - he said
- Yes, this is bullshit, compared to air funnels, similar to a concrete mixer, where countless fragments of meteorites, asteroids and comets rotate at breakneck speed! Lainjon Lanat tried to calm him down.
- Yes? Well, then I will forgive you to take me back home, dear earthlings, I do not want to die in vain in these God-forsaken places of the universe. Who knows, maybe there are intergalactic star warriors and humanoids that will shoot us down by opening fire from an anti-aircraft laser device. So come on, turn around -said Baltabalyk.
- What?! You coward! Who gave you the right to command here?! Why are you staring at me! Is he okay or something? - said Lainjon Lanat, who by this time was slightly drunk.Then, with all his might, he hit Baltabalik on the head with a bottle, shouting - Die, you brute!, and Baltabalik immediately lost consciousness and collapsed. Lainjon Lanat angrily wanted to throw him out of the flying saucer, but he was immediately stopped by Yakan ibn Khaqan. -What are you doing, you bastard, you psycho?! Do not open the hatch, the unit will depressurize! What have you done, you ungrateful creature?! He helped us! - Stop it! - he shouted.
- All right, Commander, calm down. Everything is fine. Well, I'm sorry, Yakan, that I overreacted. Well, with whom does this not happen? I just couldn't restrain myself - Lainjon Lanat asked for forgiveness with a lazy smile on his lips.
- You idiot! - said Yakan ibn Khaqan.
They flew for a long time. On the way, Baltabalyk woke up, but he did not remember anything. It turns out that he lost his memory. His eyes were empty, like a man who has lost interest in life.
After a grueling flight, the old flying saucer of Yakan ibn Khaqan finally arrived on the planet "Gurrabash ''. Yakan ibn Khaqan and his friends stopped at a hotel in the capital to have a good rest for a week or two. Lainjon Lainat, using a compact translator device belonging to Baltabalyk, talked to beautiful gurrabashkas who worked in an expensive hotel in the capital, intended for rich alien clients. They did not answer Lainjon Lanat's questions, only smiled amiably, taking his words for jokes. Baltabalyk, who had lost his memory, obediently followed Yakan ibn Khaqan, thoughtfully ate, drank, sat in silence, did not talk to anyone. Yakan ibn Hakan was negotiating with managers of large banks to sell his priceless goods, which he brought on his old flying saucer from the distant planet "Earth". Finally, he managed to sign contracts for the sale of goods on a barter basis, that is, to exchange dung for diamonds. His joy had no bounds. Yakan ibn Khaqan returned to his luxurious room in an expensive hotel, where poor Baltabalyk was still sitting in silence, looking out of the wide window with a misty gaze at the street. Lainjon Lanat disappeared for days with an attractive gurrabashka.
Yakan ibn Hakan, wanted to turn on the TV, then kick, and he found himself in a light trap, similar to an inverted plastic cup. Then he heard voices. - Mr. Alien Yakan ibn Hakan, you are under arrest on suspicion of murdering a gurrabash named Bitbyldyk and stealing his time machine of a new modification. Hearing this, Yakan ibn Khaqan turned his eyes from fear and surprise.
-What are you saying?! What kind of murder?! What kind of hijacking?! I do not know who this Bitbyldyk is! This is some kind of misunderstanding! I demand that this masquerade be stopped immediately! You have no right to arrest me! This is a setup! Meanness! I am an honest businessman and I came here only to sell priceless dung! I will complain to the Intergalactic Court! He shouted, standing in the police light trap like a parrot in a cage.
Soon he was tried and on the basis of the verdict of the jury, the court sentenced him to life imprisonment, with confiscation of property.
- The convicted alien, Mr. Yakan ibn Hakan, will serve his sentence as a particularly dangerous criminal in a correctional concentration camp located on the planet "Earth", the judge said.
Hearing this, Yakan ibn Khaqan even laughed, thinking about what fools these gurrabashes are, who send me to their home planet, where they love and appreciate me.There is a fair President of the country and the writers ' union at the very least.They will protect me, free me from prison. They will award me with orders and medals, give me an apartment with a country house, where I will write my exciting novels in the deserted silence.
A day later, according to a court decision, Yakan ibn Hakan was sent by stage to the planet "Earth", in a police-era spaceplane, which flew through space at breakneck speed with a heart-rending siren wail.
Yakan ibn Khaqan was sitting in the spaceport, with invisible handcuffs on his hands, looking at the police, who were silently flying in a chemical protection suit.
- Idiots-Yakan ibn Khaqan grinned.
Finally, the spaceplane landed and the police, carefully opening the lower hatch, pushed out the convicted Yakan ibn Khaqan. Thus, after delivering him to his destination, they flew back.
When he began to suffocate from the smoke, Yakan ibn Khaqan, with fear, thought that the Gurrabashs had deceived him by throwing him not to his native planet "Earth" but to a completely different planet, where there was nothing to breathe.
He looked around in surprise. Because this planet was foggy and only ruins caught the eye through this fog. There were no trees or grasses. The ground was covered with gray ash.. The same ash was flying in the air, like dandruff from unkempt hair. The Gurrabashi have deceived me , he thought with fear. It became even harder for him to breathe. Just at this time, he saw a man in an oxygen mask and asked him breathlessly: - Excuse me, sir, is this the planet "Earth"?
A passerby looked at him in surprise through the glass of a gas mask, then answered: - Yes.
Yakan ibn Khaqan continued: - I don't recognize anything here. Where are the houses, the trees? There are ruins all around. Why is it difficult to breathe here? Ash and fog are everywhere.
"Did you fall off the moon or something?" Where were you when the Third World War broke out? A year ago, such a war thundered on earth, and you did not know. Strange. You probably got a concussion along with the radiation. - said the man with a gas mask on his head, resembling an elephant with a trunk.
With these words, he began to leave. Yakan ibn Khaqan hurriedly caught up with him and asked: - Sir, I'm suffocating from lack of air. Can you tell me where I can get oxygen? Help me for God's sake. The man with the gas mask stopped when he heard the name of God.
- There, you see, there is a green booth around the bend, where it says H2O at the top. Here, go there and buy yourself oxygen, - he said.
Thanking him, Yakan ibn Khaqan ran to where he was pointing. There, in the booth, he saw a man also with a gas mask on his face. On the shelves were oxygen bottles with a mask of various sizes.
"Hello, Mr. Salesman," said Yakan ibn Khaqan.
- Hi, what do you want? - the seller said.
- Oxygen! I want oxygen! It's hard to breathe! - Yakan ibn Khaqan said, gasping for breath.
- Do you have any money? - the salesman asked.
- No. I'll bring it to you today. Give me a loan for now. Well, for God's sake, please-he begged.
- No, for God's sake, I can't. But if for the sake of our irreplaceable, highly respected president of the country, then I can give it - the seller said.
- Well, give it at least for the sake of the president of the country-said Yakan ibn Khakan. The seller wrote down the name and surname of Yakan ibn Khaqan in the debtors ' notebook, then gave him an oxygen canister with a mask. Yakan ibn Khaqan took a canister and, putting on an oxygen mask, began to suffocate even more. His eyes were squinting from lack of oxygen. Then, looking at the can, he saw the inscription "Carbonate dioxide". The salesman was laughing, shaking his shoulders. That's when Yakan ibn Khaqan only found out about the vile seller.

It was Lainjon Lanat.




19/11/2020.
11: 54 p.m.
Canada, Ontario.

eb23ebae4e2f0a5747a3836a73a792433eb756231883193 (700x510, 39Kb)

 

 



Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

The execution in the electric chair


(The story)




Saidvakkas is about twenty-five years old, of medium height, with large cow eyes, a hunched nose, and black eyebrows and hair like oil. He works as an electrician in the local power grid and is madly in love with his profession. He's over there every day - then he fixes it by climbing high poles on his electrician's claws. He works in an orange protective helmet, leaning slightly away, holding the chain around the post in a stretch, and humming a cheerful song to himself. Over the post where Saidvakkas works,  huge clouds float like giant airships, and nearby on the spring slender poplars, chickadee sing, singing a trill, like: -Chicka- dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee! The best and most interesting  thing  for Saidvakkas is that he can see everything from a height, as in the palm of his hand, houses, courtyards, trees, streets of an urban-type settlement, distant country roads, pathways, meadows and cows, cotton fields and behind the fields high mountain slopes and snow peaks. Usually people hardly pay attention to it. But when the electric wires are cut off in a winter snowstorm or a Blizzard and the lights are turned off, Saidvakkas instantly becomes the most important, dear and close to the heart of the towns people, as an irreplaceable eternal President of the country, as a heroic person. Oh, how happy the residents of the urban-type settlement will be when Saidvakkas fixes and fixes the problem! Old and young, even children at the top of their voices, will shout in chorus: - Hurraaay!. Hearing this for the first time, a person may even think, that angry people finally rose up against a vile tyrant and a bloody dictator to make a revolution. After the light turns on, everyone will immediately forget about Saidvakkas, and he in turn, treating this with understanding,  not offended by them. Often, the electricity is cut off, the lights are turned off and the urban-type settlement is plunged into pitch darkness. Especially in winter, when old electric kiosks explode, people live without electricity for weeks, sometimes even months, drowning their shacks and huts with dung in an antediluvian way, eating and reading in the light of kerosene lamps,  in frosty silence. On days like this, when children are doing their homework by candlelight, the angry people will sing a chorus of curses at the electricians and all civil servants who are thus oppressing  their own people who voted for them in the election, trusting them with their fate, when they promised that there would be no problems with electricity and gas if the people voted for them.

Such thoughts Sadvakkas worked on the pole, and then rang his mobile phone.


Saidvakkas pulled out his cell phone, turned it on.

-Hello! Go ahead speak, I hear you! - said Saidvakkas .

Then the man began to speak in a rustling voice: - Hello! Is this electrician Saidvakkas?! Well Hello there, man. In short I know you but you don't know me. Well, Listen to me carefully and do not interrupt, do not ask who I am, where I come from, if of course you value your life!.. Your life hangs on a tightrope over a bottomless pit and you have very little time. They want to arrest you today.The authorities have put you on an international wanted list. So run and don't look back. That's it, I can't talk anymore. It's dangerous for me. The situation is extremely serious. After our conversation, you must break your mobile phone with a rock and try not to talk to anyone on the phone. sincerely, your secret friend -said an anonymous.

The person who called was silent.

- Hello!Who are you? Why are you silent? Speak up, I'm listening carefully! Hello!.. - said surprised Saidvakkas.

- What are you talking about, I was just joking that the company had fun and talked about some of our officials in the highest Government of the authorities, who steal people's money and send them to foreign banks through zones, in the form of gold and diamonds in place in order to improve gas supply in the country and to upgrade the ageing transmission system. I did not say a word about the authorities that sell natural gas, oil and other minerals almost for free to other countries. And our poor people are drowning their huts, shacks and concrete apartments the antediluvian way in the harsh winter.That is, coal, wood or dung. Especially in winter, in the absence of electricity and gas, the population of our country suffers from the cold. Especially children. They do their homework at the light of a kerosene lamp in cold a house in the siege of Leningrad in the forties of the 20th century. When for the money stolen by some state officials of our independent country, you can easily build powerful ultra-modern power plants, hundreds of giant plants and factories, where our patrons are suffering from total unemployment even though they could work. They wouldn't travel the world looking for work and becoming slaves. If they had a normal job at home, our young fellow citizens would not have turned into marauders, in the hot spots of the planet, where they blow up and destroy beautiful cities, turning them into ruins, killing each other and innocent people, especially the homeless children....

 


-Hello! Hello, can you hear me?! - said Saidvakkas . But he heard short beeps from the phone , similar to the beeps of the ventilator of the lungs of a patient, who died. That is, the connection was broken.

 


Saidvakkas frightend, looked around and quickly went downstairs and went to the side of the block where he lives with his mother. On the way, all the people began to look for undercover policemen in civilian clothing. Before he went to his apartment, he again looked around and going inside, closed the door of his apartment. Seeing his pale face and anxious eyes, his mother became concerned.

 


-What's wrong, son? - she asked.

 


- It's okay.Only, you know... there is such a thing... well, how do you explain it? More shortly... he said barely hearing the thud of boots outside the door, the fear stopped. Then, approaching the door on tiptoe, he looked through the peephole and saw the people standing there. Saidvakkas immediately recognized one of them . It was the local policeman Lieutenant Carbabaev, who began to knock at the door.

 


-Who's there? Open the door - said Saidvakkas's mom.

 


Saidvakkas putting his index finger on his mouth and said in a whisper: - Shh, Mom, there is the Lieutenant Carbabaev with his squad. They want to arrest me. Don't worry, mom, it's gonna be okay. I'm going out the window right now and tell them you didn't see me. Take care of yourself, mom. I love you - said Saidvakkas, hugging his mom and saying goodbye to her. From these words Saidvakkas's mother almost fainted.

 


Saidvakkas opening the window, jumped on the booming tin of the roof of a nearby house and ran as a stuntman who performs dangerous and difficult stunts, replacing the actor on the set. After him, said the local policeman Lieutenant Carbabaev, people engaged in catching stray dogs. Downstairs they gathered the people and began to observe what is happening, they sheilded their eyes from the Sun rays . They thought that in their hometown was a shoot action-Packed exciting feature film. Saidvakkas recklessly ran across the tin roofs. He ran and thought that in this world he ran everything as a hampster in a cage which is turning a wheel. People run because they are chased by the merciless grim Reaper. And people twist their wheels, big and small, gold, iron, wood and clay, quietly turning gray and aging at the same time. Who's got the legs for untold wealth. Even those who have paralyzed legs, too, running for their pension, that move with the help of crutches, who is in a wheelchair with the wheels of a bike. And the Earth, Is spinning like a mysterious wheel of the universe so great that no one can stop it. And the blue sky was too similar to an hourglass, where seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, and centuries are flowing from above like the Sands of the torn bag like heaven in the hourglass of eternity... Such thoughts Saidvakkas ran on, leaping from roof to roof, like a flying squirrel in the forest as suspense in a jungle.

 


- Saidvakkas ! Wait! Stop! Otherwise I will be forced to open fire with my service weapon! - shouted the Lieutenant Carbabaev.

 


Saidvakkas did not obey him. On the contrary he started to run even faster. He jumped from roof to roof like a monkey in the jungle, like a flying squirrel from tree to tree and ran recklessly. Lieutenant Carbabaev and the hunters of street dogs ran with nets in their hand, deftly leaping from rooftop to rooftop, never losing sight of Carbabaev. At the bottom of all this with admiration he watched the crowd of onlookers, as tourists at the Canadian Niagara falls . Then disaster struck and Saidvakkas fell into a old deep ventilation shaft . As he fell crashing down, he heard shouting in the dark. Someone coughed and sneezed in the soot and dust. On the roof all the people still stomping their boots .

-Oh, my! He's gone! As if the landing failed! Oh Satan!, where has he gone?! I really missed the bastard. - said the Lieutenant Carbabaev and said: Well, we'll do a stakeout on his apartment and he won't escape us! After these words, stamping the echoing roof detachment Lieutenant Carbabaev began to leave. When they left, in a dark ventilation shaft, someone lit a match and Saidvakkas saw a man of about thirty-five or forty. He lit a candle. Saidvakkas immediately asked for forgiveness from the owner for jumping into the housing.

 


- Dont worry about it, its okay- said man and continued.

 


- I am a lone writer and poet my name is Dahabebaho - he explained.

 


- I'm glad to meet you Mr. poet Dahobebaho. Call me Saidvakkas. I have a special secondary education. Before that, I worked as a electrician.

- Well, then we're almost colleagues. As you electricians are covering people's houses and roads and we poets illuminated the human soul like a weary street lights in the quiet dawn - said the poet Dahobebaho . Then he read his new poem.

Listening to the verses of Dahobebaho, Saidvakkas took a deep breath.

 


- Oh, such a great poet lives in an unlit ventilation shaft! What an injustice, my Lord! How do you even live in a hole like this covered in cobwebs? Such poets as you have to live in mansions, where the moon peaks through the window . Where, outside the window are rings of white-trunked poplars in the wind, and the fall of the maples drop their leaves in silence as tears. In the winter twilight poets have to sit silently next to a large window, especially turning off the lights and gaze for hours on snowy snowstorm, listening to the howling of wolves - he said.

 


-No, Mr. Saidvakkas , on the contrary I am glad that I live in the ventilation shaft. It's much better than living in luxurious mansions. Here reigns peace and quiet. No one's bothering me here. I'm not running, I'm not in a hurry, I'm not late. Im doing what I like - said the great poet Dahobebaho.

 


Saidvakkas paused for a moment, looking at the hands of the poet covered with tattoos. Then asked:

 


- I apologize, Mr. poet, it is clear that you have been in prison for many years. What for?

 


-No, Mr. Saidvakkas , I wasn't in prison -said the poet Dahobebaho.

 


- Then why are your hands covered with tattoos? - said Saidvakkas .

 


-Aaa - said Dahobebaho. Then went on to explain:

 


-I have not only my hands, almost all my body is covered with tattoos, where the text of my poems is written in small print, which can be read only with a magnifying glass. I wrote them on my body with ink and a needle so my poems wouldn't get lost. In short, I live the manuscript of poems. That's the way I will save money to buy new shoes, but I still can not. I walk, as you can see, in these old footsteps, wrapped in my footcloths. It's like gold for the rich to me. I rarely would like to share with paper he said - then he continued,

 


-Mr. Saidvakkas , I'm glad you came. Although you came into my miserable home without warning, but God sent you to me as a guest, you should be able to treat the poet more than that - said Dahobebaho.

 


- Well, I'm ready to take treats, Mr. poet. I know you want to punch me in the face for the fact that I bothered you with my stupid visit - smiled Saidvakkas .

 


- No, really I dont want to punch you in the face, you truly are an expensive guest. I do have some treats for you. There's got to be a piece of dried bread around here somewhere .I didn't eat it, even when I was facing starvation. I saved it for random guests. Where is it?.. With these words, the poet Dahabebaho began frantically fumbling in his old and tattered bag, made of fox leather.

 


- Don't worry, Mr. poet I'm full- said Saidvakkas .

 


-Yeah? - said Dahobebaho, and made a sad sigh. Then he got very excited, feeling his torn jacket and pulling out the inner pocket of the pouch.

 


- Here, I have an excellent shag, made by me from the fallen crimson leaves of autumn maple, which sadly drops in deserted autumn parks and alleys in the misty silence. That is, I will treat you with sacred smoke -he said, hastily unleashing a ribbon from his pouch with his hands shaking with excitement.

 


-Mr. poet Dahobebaho, don't. I'm not Smoking or drinking.That is, I lead a healthy lifestyle. with sports - said Saidvakkas .

 


-Don't be afraid, Mr. Saidvakkas. The tobacco heals - explained the poet Dahobebaho , stuffing his pipe with tobacco,on the thin mouthpiece, specially made of reeds. Then, lighting his pipe, took a few puffs and handed it to Saidvakkas.

 


Saidvakkas picked up the pipe and also made a puff. Then the toxic smoke entered his lungs and he began coughing heavily, sticking out his tongue like a sick old sheep, gasping for breath. Dahabebaho began to laugh. He barely was able to breathe due to him constantly laughing and said: -You cough as quail, who sings in the predawn darkness of the clover field. The quail was also coughing, the quail's throat was frozen when it drank the cold dew.

 


- Hmmm,the tabacco that you made with fallen maple leaves which you picked up from the foggy autumn park - said Saidvakkas smiling - just recovering.

 


Dahabebaho asked him about why Lieutenant Carbabaev and his team following him.

 


Saidvakkas told in detail the reason for the prosecution to Dahabebaho. Then, lighting a pipe he stuffed it with healing tabacco, made of fallen crimson leaves of the autumn maple, he began to speak.

 


-Yes, Mr Saidvakkas like you - a rarity not only in our society but on the planet.Not everyone is given the courage to tell the truth about the hard life of people, risking their own lives. I envy you in white in this regard, honestly.And I live here, hiding from the stupid crowd like an eagle nesting on a high rock. Since this property has no Windows, every day I go up to the roof through a compact folding staircase to meet the dawn and sunset, sitting on a tin roof and write new poems. At night I admire the starry sky and the shining moon in silence. I especially love to look at the dawn from the roof down, watching the movement of the crowd, hurrying to work or somewhere else.The flow of crowds moving along the sidewalk as the caravan of ants and headed toward the subway. Hurrying the people obedient to remind me of grains of sand, which the winds easily control and direct them wherever it wants...

 


Then suddenly someone began to shout at the top:

 


-Oh, crap, he is here, in the ventilation pipe. Talking to his accomplice!Hurry up, comrade Carbabaev! - he shouted.

 


And again there came the sound of tarpaulin boots echoing on the tin roof. Saidvakkas and the poet Dahabebaho with horror, stared upward, as prisoners in the deepest dungeon of the ancient Bukhara.

 


They are terribly scared seeing the angry policeman Lieutenant Carbabaev, which looked at the ventilation shaft, as in the well with a service weapon in hand.

 


-Come on, hands up, bastards! No one can escape from us! Now Saidvakkas, and your accomplice too!.. Hey, you bring the rope quickly. Let them rise voluntarily, unless of course they still want to live in this world! -he shouted, raising his cap slightly with the barrel of a silenced pistol.

 


Hearing this Carbabaev's heart sank. He and the poet Dahabebaho stood with their hands raised as a warrior captured in war.

 


-Wait, Lieutenant Carbabaev! I've got tranquilizer Darts! He just ran to the dog hunter, who is engaged in catching of stray dogs, and pulling a brass tube from his pocket began to throw his Darts at Saidvakkas and his friend.But he couldn't get in.Then the Lieutenant Carbabaev lost patience and abruptly pushed him away.

 


-Oh, you poor dog hunter! Who shoots like that! Move, stupid! I'll do without your poor services, without the rope! I've got a smoke bomb that'll make them go upstairs! - he said, lighting a smoke bomb, and threw it into the windpipe, which resembled an old dried-up well.

 


At this time, the Lieutenant Carbabaev pushed the dog hunter who rolled on the tin roof and barely stopped at the edge.

 


-Don't be afraid, Mr. Saidvakkas , without panic. There is a back door in the air duct - the poet Dahobebaho said in a whisper coughing the smoke. After that, pulling out the old mattress, they opened the doorway and dived there.

 


Saidvakkas with the poet Dahabebaho out of the doorway and ran, not looking back on the sidewalk, knocking passers-by, in order to get away. Lieutenant Carbabaev and his partner the dog hunter. They were still above the ventilation pipe, hoping to catch the two fugitives, that is from the pit of the ventilation pipe, filled with a caustic smoke. And runaways-adherents ran on the sidewalk with all their might, overtaking each other as participants of the Olympic games on a treadmill. When they started to cross the street, as if changing direction on the run, Saidvakkas almost got hit by a truck.The driver of the truck, sharply twisted the steering wheel to the right and in a panic pressed the brakes. As a result the truck sharply left on a roadside and with a roar crashed into a column. From a powerful blow a wooden pole broke like a mast of an ancient pirate ship in the stormy sea.There were heart-rending cries of women, like whistling, swearing and screaming, like an alarm. Fortunately, there were no casualties. The friends fled until, they began to suffocate. Saidvakkas suddenly got a unique idea and he forced one man's bike with biker handlebars.

 


-Mr. poet Dahabebaho! Jump quickly to the back of the 2 wheeled wagon of Satan! - he shouted.

 


The poet Dahabebaho jumped on the back of a stolen bike .He deftly sat on Satan's wagon, go prompt the Indians on the horse and together they raced down the sidewalk, screaming: -everyone this satans's wagon does not have working brakes!

Passers-by leaned against the walls of houses and showcases of restaurants and cafes, freeing them from the sidewalk.There was trouble. That is Carbabaev's pant leg caught in the chain and the fugitives, losing balance fell to the pavement. To get rid of the two-wheeled trap, from satan's wagon, Saidvakkas had to say goodbye to the Trouser leg of his trousers. After that, they started running on the crowded sidewalk again.

 


There were screams.:

 


-Lieutenant Carbabaev! Here they are! Shoot! We'll miss them again! - the driver of a pickup truck shouted, densely approaching the populous sidewalk.

 


- No, it's crowded here! I'm going to miss and shoot innocent passers-by! You are a dog hunter, go ahead and shoot poisonous darts for fugitives from this stupid brass tube! -shouted the Lieutenant Carbabaev.

 


-Well, comrade Carbabaev! - said the dog hunter, and he grabbed the brass tube from his pocket, began to shoot Darts, taking aim at the neck of the fugitives. But he missed and immediately a couple innocent citizens fell, clutching their neck.

 


- Fool! Be careful, stinky dog hunter! - Lieutenant Carbabaev reproached the hunter of stray dogs , slightly raising the visor of his cap with the barrel of a service weapon.By this time the fugitives sharply changing their directions, dived into a narrow alley, where the car would not fit.

 


After this detachment of Lieutenant Carbabaev began to pursue the fugitives on foot. The persecuted ran towards the railway station. Saidvakkas started howled like a werewolf under the full moon from the unbearable pain, he started limping, clutching his leg. It turns out he stepped on a rusty nail that pierced through his leg.He could no longer walk, and fell to the ground like a bag of soil.

The great poet Dahabebaho had to go back to help his faithful friend in the difficult moments.

 


- What's wrong? - he asked, running and breathing heavily.

 


- Aaaahh!..A nail pierced through my leg! - said Saidvakkas .

His face twisted into a grimace of pain.

 


-Be patient, mister electrician Saidvakkas .Get up.

Let me help you with that. It's dangerous for both of us to stay here. After the squad Lieutenant Carbabaev, you understand? - said the great poet Dahabebaho, trying to help lift up his fugitive friend.

 


- No, don't help me. I like something better of myself... You run, I got your back.While I'll hold them off, you will have time to escape, blending into the crowd in the station of the flea market. I'm sure. Goodbye, my friend Dahabebaho! You have no right not to be saved, run for God's sake, for the sake of our long-suffering literature, for the sake of our oppressed people! said Saidvakkas , groaning from the unbearable pain.

After that Dahabebaho there was nothing for it but to run on.

-Goodbye, Mr. Saidvakkas ! Thank you for helping me, staying in trouble and sacrificing yourself for our friendship! - cried the poet Dahabebaho. His eyes glistened with tears. Saying goodbye to his friend he ran on.When he disappeared from sight, there was a detachment of Lieutenant Carbabaev and caught the fugitive electrician. Lieutenant Carbabaev sitting on the back of Saidvakkas, put lowcost handcuffs on his hands.

 


- Well, got the stinky electrician, evil enemy of our suffering people?! We will catch your crazy rich friend poet living in a luxury ventilation pipe!

 


- Ah stop... come on, chief, that hurts! Don't put pressure on my leg, which was pierced through by a rusty nail! - said Saidvakkas , lounging on the ground.

 


After that, he was taken to the basement of the detention center for questioning.

 


The investigation lasted long. The criminal case consisted of several volumes. Finally, the trial took place and the jury handed down an indictment. After all this, the Prosecutor asked the court to sentence Saidvakkas to death.

 


- The court having consulted on a place, decided! Since our convict Saidvakkas worked at the will of the electrician, he will be executed in the electric chair! - the judge said.

Then ordered:

 


- Rise, condemned!

Saidvakkas stood up.

- Do you understand me?! - the judge asked.

 


Saidvakkas replied: -Yes, your honor.

 


-Sit down! - ordered the judge.

Saidvakkas sat down on the defendant bench.

 


- At this court session is declared closed! - the judge said, tapping with a wooden hammer.

 


Saidvakkas never thought that he would ever commit such a heinous crime and will be executed in the electric chair. Oh, how his mother in court, was crying! The worst thing happened before the execution. When he heard the barking of angry dogs and keys rattled the iron door, Saidvakkas thought with horror that the executioners coming from the dark corridor to take him to the room for the execution. But it was not .The lawyer came with the muslim priest. Beardless young priest with a black velvet skullcap on his head with a sacred book in his hands.

 


-Electrician Saidvakkas , so you are going to the afterlife, I came to read your memorial by Sharia law - said the beardless priest with a velvet black skullcap.

Saidvakkas was silent, looking at the priest indifferent gaze as a crazy person.

 


-I also came to say goodbye to you, my dear client Saidvakkas. I apologize that I couldn't protect you from a death sentence-the lawyer told and bitterly began to cry.

 


After this they brought Saidvakkas his last meal.

 


- This is your last meal. Excellent plov, cooked with very delicious sheep kabbob. Eat. If you want to drink vodka or wine lastly, tell me do not be shy-said one of them and uncorked a bottle of wine, gently pulling the tube with the help of a corkscrew.

 


-No, thank you. I don't want to eat or drink, how could I have anything at such a time, what's wrong with you? - said Saidvakkas .

 


-Well, well.If you don't want to drink, we will toast to you, that is, the sight of your soul -the other said and they drank in silence, clinking glasses, and ate.Then they took Saidvakkas , dragging him along a narrow, poorly, conferences hall. Before putting him on the electric chair, the Barber shaved his hair with a razor in the top of his head, wet his head with a wet rag so that his skull effectively passed the high voltage electric current. Then put him in the electric chair, the executioners tied the hands and feet with belts, blindfolded his eyes, with a dark blindfold, so his eyes don't pop out during the execution.

 


After the judge read the verdict , Saidvakkas with a rag in his mouth thinking about that here is the main executioner nodding to his assistant and he pulls the switch and scary sitebest electrical discharges like lightning in the black sky, throwing sparks and he's done.

 


Finally it was the time of the execution and the assistant chief executioner solemnly pulled lever. Those present in the hall covered their face with their hands, with magazines, who else than that, not to see the terrible event. But just at this time the power went out throughout the district, thereby saving Saidvakkas from apparent death.

Saidvakkas woke up in a cold sweat and saw his mother, who stood with a candle in her hand.

 


- Oh, mom, why are you holding a burning candle? - he asked with fright, thinking that he really died after the execution and is already in the dark world.

 


-What is it, my lamb, I think you are sick? What to do if power each day turns the light off, under the pretext economic electricity? Turned on the TV to watch movies and again turned off the light - electrician Saidvakkas's mom said .

 


- Oh, thank God, mother, thank God, that all this was not in reality! - said Saidvakkas hugging his mother.

-What happend to you, my son, did you have a nightmare? - asked the Saidvakkas's mother.

-Yes, mother, in the dream I was executed in the electric chair! Good thing the lights went out during the execution! Oh, how good it is to live without electricity!Look, mom, how the moon looks in our open window!As the distant twinkle of countless stars! Do you hear the frog choir whispering?How they croak! croak!croak!croak!! And how selflessly crickets sing! - said Saidvakkas , looking in through the open window, which gently fluttered the net curtains.

 


- Yes, son. Frogs are humpbacked, bug-eyed, ugly, in a word. And how they sing under the bright shining moon, in silence! - said the delighted mother of Saidvakkas.

 


Mother and son wondered, silently glaring through open window on moon and on distant the blue stars.

 

 

 

02/05/2018.

9:46 in the morning.

Canada, Ontario.

 




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132221451_gorod_Brempton (202x216, 31Kb)

Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

The eighteenth letter of Mizhappar

 

 

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

 


Let this letter, which I am writing on a stray dog skin which we slaughtered with a knife and ate with vodka, fly on the autumn wind, fly strictly to the West, where Mr. Sitmrat lives , there, where he often sits drinking whisky or tequila with some ice looking through the window, at the late tired midnight buses, with only a few people still waiting in the bus stops.
Hello, Mr. Sitmrat!
Yesterday Qurumboy called an extraordinary Congress of our party, climbed onto the roof of the pigsty. I ran to where the Convention was supposed to be. When I arrived, Qurumboy rejoiced and uttered this speech:
- Well, the member of the collective farm Mr. Mizhappar is here too. Now we have a quorum, and we can start congress, according to the point of the Charter of our party about holding congresses! So, comrades, if we really want to come to power, we must strengthen political propaganda among the population as never before! On this I declare Congress closed! Members of our party, members and guests of the Congress of our party immediately Yoldashvoy harnessed to a cart! Then he added - do you Hear the trumpet calling?
- Yes! - we answered.
- Then let's go! - shouted  Qurumboy.
We put the clamp on Yoldashvoy, and Qurumboy sat on the cart. We sat down too. We drove on the street, admiring the scenery and sometimes greeting passers-by. The soul sings. I love the road by nature. All around, the trees drop their yellow and crimson leaves. Behind the bare branches of the trees you can see the huts of farmers, with crooked chimneys. Qurumboy humed a melody, good mood from him. Mamadiyar sang some old song.

The cart rattled along, and suddenly it got stuck. Yoldashvoy tensed, trying to pull it out of the mud, but couldn't. Then Qurumboy went to help him, that is, began to beat him over the head with a long whip. Which tore Yoldashvoy's hat, made of dog skin. His pea-jacket was torn, too. Qurumboy mercilessly beat him constantly shouting:
- Get up, don't pretend, you sly quitter! Damned parasite!
Yoldashvoy struggled trying to pull the cart, but it didn't work. The poor man pulled the cart, wrapping the bridle around himself like a fly caught in a spider's web, injuring his shoulders, cutting his neck with swollen arteries. Then from fatigue and impotence he lay down in the mud. His face and clothes were filthy. We had to get off the cart to help Yoldashvoy. Mamadiyar and I pushed the cart from behind, leaning on it with our shoulders. Finally we pulled it out of the mud, and Yoldashvoy ran, dragging the cart along a paved road. We caught up with him and got back on the cart. We went, we waved our hands to children and old men who stood on a roadside watching us with a surprised look. We drove at high speed until our vehicle hit a man. This man was a drunk named Khurram, who was lying on the road tipsy. When we hit it, our cart went up and down again. Well, that local drunk Khurram not died. He got up from his seat and, throwing clods of dirt at us, began to scold us with all his might. Yoldashvoy added speed, but since we did not have a speedometer, we didn't know what speed he was driving at the moment. There were no drunks on the horizon but us. We ride on a high-speed creaking cart, plowing the air. The speed was too great, and suddenly there was an emergency. Our high-speed cart suddenly and unsightly tilted to one side, and one of its wheels fell off. Now the cart stopped listening to Qurumboy, and our uncontrolled carriage went off the road. Dragging Yoldashvoy, it rolled towards a small poultry farm of a local farmer. We rode it and screamed in panic, uttering only one sound:
-A - a - a - a - a -a!  - we shouted.
When we tore down the net, the chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, too, were frightened, flying noisily away like frightened birds in the night. I don't remember how our cart fell. When I came to my self, I was lying like a boxer in the ring who had been knocked out. My friends too. Qurumboy lying in a pool among the ducks and geese. Mamadiyar was found in a chicken coop, where a thin, tall farmer was standing.
- They're all here, I guess. Now the farmer in despair will take his double-barreled gun and, having loaded it, will shoot us like partridges without trial - I thought.
No, he did not take up the gun, on the contrary, began to help us, at the same time photographing us from all sides for memory. We thought at first that when the poor farmer has calculated the material and moral damage, he went to the roof. Because instead of crying, he was happy as a child and even expressed gratitude to us .
- What are you happy about, bourgeois?! -  asked by Qurumboy, stuffing in his pipe and lighting chicken manure.
- How not to rejoice, Mr. proletarian, after destroying part of my farm you helped me.
-You what, are you crazy? We've done you enormous damage, like hurricane Catherine on the Atlantic coast, you fool! Or do you want to put us on trial? Mind you, my bodyguard Mizhappar abroad there are friends of human rights defenders. They'll raise an international political scandal if you sue. They are even ready to make a revolution for us! - Qurumboy sternly warned the poultry farmer .
- Yes, mister Qurumboy! Why would I sue you when there's another way to get rich? Now, thanks to you, I can write off thousands of chickens, geese, ducks and turkeys, which were taken away by the tax authorities, the Bank employees who gave us a loan, the district Shgabuddinov, then other small officials! - the farmer said.
Then he invited us to a free Banquet to wash up the natural disaster on his farm. While we were drinking tea and eating delicious scrambled eggs, the farmer's wife made rotisserie from the chickens. The farmer ran to the store and we started drinking vodka. After the tenth bottle, Yuldashvoy turned crosseyed, finding it difficult to pronounce the consonant letters. He just smiled and said the vowel sounds. The farmer's wife was a talented woman. She gave an Amateur performance and sang a song about chickens, dancing.    
After the twelfth bottle, the farmer, too, became intoxicated and suddenly turned to God, lazily licking his lips and looking at the ceiling with squinting eyes:
- God, why are you torturing only me?! Is there no one else in the world but me?! Why don't you torture the tax men who skin the poor farmers?! Why do you not punish unjust prosecutors, parasite lawyers, policemen, scaring the people, put innocent, law-abiding citizens behind bars, take away the last penny from people?! Do you not see the pupils and students who, instead of studying, gather cotton on the cold plantations, when the governors beat the teachers and make the prosecutors and police officers kiss the shoes for failing to meet the norm of cotton collection?! Why do you not destroy the unjust leaders who illegally master the people's good, sucking the blood of the people from their arteries and veins like leeches! Now these slaves of yours, instead of asking for forgiveness, are threatened by human rights activists who live a luxurious life abroad, when here the people are starving to eat straw! Is that fair, Lord? Though I don't see your image, I still love you, Lord! Please, God, what have I done to you?! Tell me! Why are you silent?! After all, I participated in the liquidation of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power plant accident. I was hauling radioactive waste out of the sarcophagus in a wheelbarrow, God! - The farmer could not finish his plea, as at that moment the earthquake began. The farmer's hut began to rock and shake. The farmer's wife was the first to evacuate, screaming in fear. Then the farmer shot out into the yard. I don't even remember how or when I ran out of the cabin. I see my party friends standing next to me, pale as the moon, trembling with fear like the skeletons of a hanged man in the wind who has been gnawed by crows. Yoldashvoy too sober, as a good person. Then the ground rumbled under our feet, and we felt as if we were on a Volcano about to explode. Then there was another jolt, and the roof of the farmer's hut went down. It collapsed with a roar, kicking up dust, like a bomb test on the Atoll Moruroa. Hear Qurumboy calling me:
-Comrade Mizhappar, the revolution is in danger! I command you to help me move. You know, Mr. Sitmrat, I was doing Kung Fu, and the commander's order is law to me. I thought Qurumboy was wounded. No, it turns out he's pissed his pants. I'm sorry, but I just have to write about it for the story. Qurumboy had so much shit in pants looking like 1937 military "golife" pants that could not even move independently. Had to pull the dagger out of Qurumboy from the tops of his boots without soles and stick in the pants, which are full of (excuse me again) shit. Qurumboy's Pants  exploded and everything around was yellow. So much for political propaganda among the population! Thank God everyone was alive.


To the following letters, Mr. Sitmrat!
The soldier and member of collective farm, Mr. Mizhappar.

 

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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 first letter of Mizhappar

 

 



Let this letter that I write now, rushing like a storm, storming like a Typhoon, reach the hands of dear Mr. Sitmrat, whom lives in those countries where democracy flourishes like the Japanese Sakura in the spring. Let this letter be clear to him as the full moon in the deserted silence of the snow-covered field of the collective farm, where we plant cotton in the spring. Hello, Mr. Sitmrat, my name is Mizhappar. I'm a member of the collective farm. My fellow farmers work from early spring until late autumn, cooperating with the government to reach their goal, to exceed the annual plans for the collection of cotton, bravely defeating all the vagaries of harsh nature. Thank you very much, our wise President and the government, for making bread cheap. A man will not die if he does not eat meat. That is, anyone will do without meat. For us as long as bread is cheap along with water. Now, think for yourself, Mr. Sitmrat, if your clothing or boots tear, you can patch them up. But the stomach? What do you think, is it possible to sew up the stomach at least for a day and live without eating anything? It is not so. Here is recently, we were in search of bread with bags in armpits. And now, we thank again our wisest President and the government that there is bread, water and air.This is the most important thing. I am writing this historic letter and I think about those days when the first mandatory goods disappeared from the shop counters and I remember one funny story. The story is very funny and when I think about this case, I burst into laughter and can't stop. I can't stop even when I stare at my fingernails to stifle my laughter. Even now as I write this letter and cracked hand from my hands are shaking due to laughter. In short, in those grim days of my age, me and relative Qurumboy from the village "Lattakishlak" went to town in search of cotton oil. He was walking among the shops of the Bazaar when he saw a young man selling cotton oil. Qurumboy asked the price from this seller. The seller named the price. The price was reasonable and Qurumboy decided to buy, thinking "the Price is reasonable. I'll buy more. I will resell the excess to the neighbors in tridorogo ". While he thought, the seller asked him a delicate question, he said: - How many liters will you have, sir?
- Two... no, three pints please, ' said Qurumboy, pulling money out from his tarpaulin boots without soles. -Well, Mister - he said, and took one three-liter glass jar with a sealed lid. Then wiping it with a towel, gave it to Qurumboy. He paid and carefully placed the three-liter glass jar in the bag. When Qurumboy arrived home safe and sound, on a bus branded "Pazik" with a loaf of yellow bread, his mother was very happy. And, of course will be delighted. After all, they have not eaten hot food for 3 months in a row, and now this! The mother of Qurumboy even cried of joy. They then cleared the cabbage, corn, turnips, potatoes with surgical care put them into a kettle of vegetable oil, brought by Qurumboy. The well-oiled, clear oil lay in the bottom of the blackened kettle. Qurumboy began spreading the fire by adding dry dung. The fire burned quite a long time but, for some reason the oil was not warmed up. there was no smoke rising from it. Suddenly the heated oil began to boil. Seeing this, Qurumboy and his mother became surprised. It turns out that the seller was a liar, and he sold Qurumboy not cotton oil, but cold tea, which looked similar to oil.Then Qurumboy spent one week using the money on transportation, he went into town looking for the seller, a scoundrel on the market, but could not find him. Now, cotton oil, thanks to the government and our generous president, appeared on the shelves. Although, more expensive, but there it was. I don't understand people. Some complain all the time, because of the light turning, then about the shortage of gas for their furnace, then about drinking water. If it was my choice, I would have destroyed all those power lines, poles, in general electronics. It turns out this electric current is the most dangerous and harmful substance for human life. How many people died from the electric current in our village, when they picked an eletric breaker with a screwdriver in their hands, hoping to twist the meter, as to avoid paying for electricity. As the fire breaks out, with a green-red spark, the meter explodes in place with the host like a time bomb. Some of their houses were burned to the ground by a flash from power lines on their roofs into the attic, where dry hay that they were gathering for the cattle is ignited. It turns out, too, it's as flammable as gunpowder in a keg. It's better to live without electricity. In our village named after Chapaev every day, from evening  to morning  we should turn off the electricity. Naturally, I rejoice in this. My parents, my stepfather and stepmother are also happy. My stepfather to say, when the electricity is off I will not be watching TV and i'll fall asleep early. Yesterday I, was cleaning cows butts, suddenly, a chorus of villagers yelled  and I slightly had a heart attack. They loudly shouted: Uraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!. I think, Mr. Sitmrat came on an armored personnel carrier with the oppisition starting the revolution. I went out Jogging on the street and see the villagers fleeing their homes, rustling their heavy coats and stomping with their tarpaulin boots without the soles.
- What are you saying, fellow villagers?! - I asked them.
- The lights on! - Thank you, our wise President and government! - they answered with a shout of joy. Through later hours, as they finished their food, they were waiting to watch television, the electricity had turned off.
Some citizens complain about the lack of gas. Well, what can you do, if these fools do not even know how dangerous this gas is. Last year in the winter the gas is nearly burned our house. In our village, people in order to take more gas, installed motors mounted into the furnace. And with the help of this mechanism, they extract the gas from the pipe, leaving small amounts of fuel to their neighbors. After consulting with my stepfather and stepmother, I also bought a motor of this kind and mounted it in the pipe of our furnace. As the motor began to work, immediately began to create blue flames in the furnace and it terribly buzzed like a ship sailing in the icy expanses of the Arctic ocean. The flame in the furnace fluttered like a flag on a flagpole and in a short time we became warm.  My stepfather and stepmother rejoice, praising me. When it became stuffy, I had to take off my coat and hat with earflaps and sit in my undershirt. Our home became like a Finnish sauna and I had sweat all over me. Even breathing became difficult from the unbearable heat. Suddenly, the motor mounted into the pipe of the furnace, giving the sound of bats, flying in different directions, then the motor exploded. It turns out the pressure on the gas pipeline rose sharply. I saw the flames have risen to a meter and a half, if not more, and our shack has turned into a stone cave of a fiery hell. My stepmother in hysterics shouted in a shrill voice like a whistle of an ancient factory, calling for the help of people. I'm shocked. I stand still. I see my stepfather is also snarling like a wild man at a waterfall.
-  Mizhappar! Look, my adopted son, the sheepskin is burning with the mattress by the furnace!Put it out, for God's sake! Oh, Lord! - he growled.
- I see, I see, stepfather! I will put the fire out!  I growled in reply, and began feverishly to trample on the flame, which was raging terribly near our furnace. I trampled the fire with my flat-footed feet, like the fins of scuba divers, and finally, I managed to successfully contain the fire. But, during the struggle with the fire, my pants burned up to my knees and they turned into shorts. I've been afraid of gas ever since. Our poverty saved us from destruction. Because we except the clay floor, clay walls and ceilingmade out of almost nothing. If we had wooden floors and ceilings, luxurious furniture, it would definitely burn down. From there, and the popular saying complained that not beauty, but the poor will save the world. Here you are a great scientist in the field of profanity, think for yourself, if the people of the whole planet were poor, they would not be able to invent atomic and nuclear bombs, right, Mr. Sitmrat? Would a poor, hungry man think about inventions? they would only think about filling their stomach. They, too, would hope to find dry bread, and would work on the cotton plantations, from morning to evening, picking cotton, not ceasing even in the cold days of December in a place with their children. I firmly believe that wealth and luxury are the number one enemy of all mankind. After the fire that broke out in our house, it looked like a closet, I dismantled the pipes from the gas pipeline and we began to heat our shack with dung, that is, cow dung. Although dung in a furnace burns slowly and smells bad, at least it is safe for human life. Extracted dung is also not difficult. Sit on a donkey and go to the lawn where the juniper trees grow, where there is a lot of dung, which cows produced. Collect them, put them in your bag and the police will not even arrest you for it. Sometimes the mown rye field will also turn into a quarry fuel of energy resources for us, that is, for the poor. We need to live in harmony with nature, not destroy it.
With great respect, the member of collective farm, Mizhappar.



January 21, 2008. 19 hours 15 minutes.
Collective Farm "Chapaev".

 

 

 

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