The dad spread his hands.
– Here – he said to the mom, and opened the window.
A man with a dirty coat and a big knife in his hands tried to get in through the window. When the dad noticed him, he closed the window and said:
– There is nobody.
But, the man with a dirty coat was outside looking into the room through the window, and furthermore, he opened the window and got in.
The mom was extremely disturbed by this. She started acting hysterically, and, after she had a drink that the dad gave her and ate a little mushroom, she calmed down.
Soon the dad calmed down, too. Again everybody sat at the table and continued to drink.
The dad took the papers and spent a long time flipping them up and down trying to determine what comes up and what comes down. But no matter how long he tried he couldn't sort it out so he put the papers aside and had a drink.
– Nice – said the dad – but we're out of pickles.
The mom made a sound like a horse, which was pretty inappropriate, and made the maids look at the table cloth and laugh silently.
The dad had another drink and suddenly grabbed the mom and put her on the cupboard.
The mom's gray, big, light hair was shaking, she got red spots all over her face, and, generally speaking, she was pretty upset.
The dad adjusted his trousers and started on a speech.
But at this point a secret hatch opened down on the floor and out from it crawled a monk.
The maids were so confused that one of them started to vomit. Natasha was holding her forehead and tried to hide what was going on.
The monk, the one that got out of the floor, aimed at the dad's ear and hit him so hard that everybody could hear the bells ringing in the dad's head!
The dad just sat down without even finishing his speech.
Then the monk approached the mom and with his hand, or leg, somehow from below, he kicked her.
The mom started to scream and cry for help.
Then the monk grabbed both maids by their aprons and, after swinging them through the air, let them hit the wall.
Then, unnoticed, the monk crawled back into the floor and closed the hatch behind him.
For a long time neither the dad, nor the mom, nor the maid Natasha could get their compoure again. But later, when they got some fresh air, they had another drink while adjusting their appearance, they sat down at the table, and started to eat salad.
After another drink everyone was talking quietly.
Suddenly the dad got red in the face and started to yell:
– What! What! – the dad was yelling. – You think that I am anal! You look at me like at a devil! I do not ask for your love! You are the devils!
The mom and the maid Natasha ran out of the room and locked themselves in the kitchen.
– Go away you drunk! Go, you son of a devil! – whispered the mom and the totally confused maid Natasha, behind the door.
And the dad stayed in the dining room until the morning when he took his bag, put on a white hat and quietly went to work.
A sonnet
An amazing thing happened to me today, I suddenly forgot what comes first – 7 or 8.
I went to my neigbors and asked them abou their opinion on this matter.
Great was their and my amazement, when they suddenly discovered, that they couldn't recall the counting order. They remembered 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6, but forgot what comes next.
We all went to a commercial grocery store, the one that's on the corner of Znamenskaya and Basseinaya streets to consult a cashier on our predicament. The cashier gave us a sad smile, took a small hammer out of her mouth, and moving her nose slightly back and forth, she said:
– In my opinion, a seven comes after an eight, only if an eight comes after a seven.
We thanked the cashier and ran cheerfully out of the store. But there, thinking carefully about cashier's words, we got sad again because her words were void of any meaning.
What were we supposed to do? We went to the Summer Garden and started counting trees. But reaching a six in count, we stopped and started arguing: In the opinion of some, a 7 went next; but in opinion of others an 8 did.
We were arguing for a long time, when by some sheer luck, a child fell off a bench and broke both of his jaws. That distracted us from our argument.
And then we all went home.
On Equilibrium
Everyone now knows how dangerous swallowing stones is. A friend of mine even coined the expression «Dan – in – ston», which means: «It's dangerous to ingest stones». And a good thing too. «Dan – in – ston» can be easily remembered and, as required, instantly recalled.
He worked, this friend of mine, as a stoker on a steam engine. He travelled either the northern line or to Moscow. He was called Nikolay Ivanovich Serpukhov and he smoked Rocket cigarettes at thirty – five kopecks a packet, and always said that they made him cough less, while those costing five roubles, he says, «always make me choke».
And so Nikolay Ivanovich once chanced to get in to the restaurant in the Yevropeyskaya Hotel. Nikolay Ivanovich sat at a table and at the next table some foreigners were sitting munching apples.
At this point Nikolay Ivanovich said to himself: – This is interesting – said Nikolay Ivanovich – A man's life this!
Barely had he said this to himself when from out of the blue a Fairy appeared in front of him, saying: – My good man, what do you need?
Well, of course, in a restaurant you do get a commotion from which, it may be said, this unknown diminutive lady may have sprung. The foreigners even ceased munching their apples.
Nikolay Ivanovich himself rather had the wind up and spoke rather offhandedly, so as to give her the brush – off. – I'm sorry – he said – but I don't really require anything in particular.
– You don't understand – said the unknown lady – I – she said – am what is called a Fairy. In the merest jiffy I'll lay on whatever you fancy.
Nikolay Ivanovich happened to notice that a citizen in a grey two – piece was listening intently to their conversation. The maitre d'hotel was rushing through the open doors and behind him some other specimen with a cigarette in his mouth.
– Bloody hell! – thought Nikolay Ivanovich – there's no telling what's going on.
And there was indeed no telling what was going on. The maitre d'hotel was leaping around the tables, the foreigners were rolling up the carpets and generally the devil only knew what! They were all doing whatever they felt like!
Nikolay Ivanovich ran out to the street and didn't even pick up his hat from the custody of the cloakroom; he ran out on to Lassalle Street and said to himself: – Dan – in – ston! It's dangerous to ingest stones – Nothing like this ever really happens, surely!
And arriving home, Nikolay Ivanovich told his wife: – Don't be alarmed, Yekaterina Petrovna, and don't get worried. Only there's no equilibrium in the world. It's just an error of some kilogram and a half over the universe as a whole, but it's really a surprising thing, Yekaterina Petrovna, totally surprising!
And that's all.
Andrey Semyonovich
Andrey Semyonovich spat into a cup of water. The water immediately turned black. Andrey Semyonovich screwed up his eyes and looked attentively into the cup. The water was very black. Andrey Semyonovich's heart began to throb.
At that moment Andrey Semyonovich's dog woke up. Andrey Semyonovich went over to the window and began ruminating.
Suddenly something big and dark shot past Andrey Semyonovich's face and flew out of the window. This was Andrey Semyonovich's dog flying out and it zoomed like a crow on to the roof of the building opposite. Andrey Semyonovich sat down on his haunches and began to howl.
Into the room ran Comrade Popugayev.
– What's up with you? Are you ill? – asked Comrade Popugayev.
Andrey Semyonovich quieted down and rubbed his eyes with his hands.
Comrade Popugayev took a look into the cup which was standing on the table. – What's this you've poured into here? – he asked Andrey Semyonovich.
– I don't know – said Andrey Semyonovich.
Popugayev instantly disappeared. The dog flew in through the window again, lay down in its former place and went to sleep.
Andrey Semyonovich went over to the table and took a drink from the cup of blackened water. And Andrey Semyonovich's soul turned lucid.
Rebellion
– Drink vinegar, gentlemen – said Shuyev.
No one gave him any reply.
– Gentlemen! – shouted Shuyev – I propose to you the drinking of vinegar!
Makaronov got up from his armchair and said:
– I welcome Shuyev's idea. Let's drink vinegar.
Rastopyakin said:
– I shall not be drinking vinegar.
At this point a silence set in and everyone began to look at Shuyev. Shuyev sat stony – faced. It was not clear what he was thinking.
Three minutes went by. Suchkov smothered a cough. Ryvin scratched his mouth. Kaltayev adjusted his tie. Makaronov jiggled his ears and his nose. And Rastopyakin, slumped against the back of his armchair, was looking as if indifferently into the fireplace.
Seven or eight more minutes went by.
Ryvin stood up and went out of the room on tiptoe.
Kaltayev followed him with his eyes.
When the door had closed behind Ryvin, Shuyev said:
– So. The rebel has departed. To the devil with the rebel!
Everyone looked at each other in surprise, and Rastopyakin raised his head and fixed his gaze on Shuyev.
Shuyev said sternly:
– He who rebels is a scoundrel!
Suchkov cautiously, under the table, shrugged his shoulders.
– I am in favour of the drinking of vinegar – Makaronov said quietly and looked expectantly at Shuyev.
Rastopyakin hiccupped and, with embarrassment, blushed like a maiden.
– Death to the rebels! – shouted Suchkov, baring his blackish teeth.
Ivan Yakovlevich Bobov
Ivan Yakovlevich Bobov woke up in the best possible of moods. He looked out from under his blanket and immediately spotted the ceiling. The ceiling was decorated with a large grey stain with greenish edges. If one looked closely at the stain, with one eye, then the stain took on a resemblance to a rhinoceros harnessed to a wheelbarrow, although others held that it looked more like a tram with a giant sitting on top – however, it was possible to detect in this stain even the outlines of some city or other. Ivan Yakovlevich looked at the ceiling, though not at where the stain was, but just like that, at no particular place; while doing so, he smiled and screwed up his eyes. Then he goggled his eyes and raised his eyebrows so high that his forehead folded up like a concertina and would very nearly have disappeared altogether if Ivan Yakovlevich had not screwed up his eyes again and suddenly, as though ashamed of something, pulled the blanket back up over his head. He did this so quickly that from under the other end of the blanket Ivan Yakovlevich's bare feet were exposed and right then a fly settled on the big toe of his left foot. Ivan Yakovlevich moved this toe and the fly flew over and settled on his heel. Then Ivan Yakovlevich grabbed the blanket with both feet; with one foot he hooked the blanket downwards, while he wiggled his other foot and clasped the blanket upwards with it and by this means pulled the blanket down from over his head. «Up yours», said Ivan Yakovlevich and blew out his cheeks. Usually, whenever Ivan Yakovlevich managed to do something or, on the contrary, utterly failed, Ivan Yakovlevich always said «up yours» – of course, not loudly and not at all so that anyone should hear it, but just like that, quietly to himself. And so, having said «up yours», Ivan Yakovlevich sat on the bed and extended an arm to the chair, on which his trousers, shirt and underwear lay. As for trousers, Ivan Yakovlevich loved to wear striped ones. But, at one time, there was really a situation when it was impossible to get striped trousers anywhere. Ivan Yakovlevich tried «Leningrad Clothes», and the department store, and the Passage, and Gostiny Dvor and he had been round all the shops on the Petrograd side. He had even gone over to somewhere on Okhta but didn't find any striped trousers anywhere. And Ivan Yakovlevich's old trousers had worn so threadbare that it was gelling impossible to wear' them. Ivan Yakovlevich sewed them up several times but in the end even this didn't help any more. Ivan Yakovlevich again went round all the shops and, again not finding striped trousers anywhere, finally decided to buy checked ones. But checked trousers weren't available anywhere either. Then Ivan Yakovlevich decided to buy himself grey trousers, but he couldn't find grey ones anywhere either. Neither were black trousers in Ivan Yakovlevich's size anywhere to be found. Then Ivan Yakovlevich went off to buy blue trousers but, while he had been looking for black ones, both blue and brown ones also ran out. And so, finally, Ivan Yakovlevich just had to buy some green trousers with yellow spots. In the shop it had seemed to Ivan Yakovlevich that the trousers were not of a very bright colour and that the yellow fleck did not offend the eye at all. But, arriving home, Ivan Yakovlevich discovered that one leg was indeed of a decent shade but that the other was nothing short of turquoise and the yellow fleck positively flamed on it.
Ivan Yakovlevich tried turning the trousers inside out, but that way round both legs had a propensity to assume a yellow hue embroidered with green peas and were so garish that, well, just to step out on stage in such trousers after a cinematic show would be quite sufficient: the audience would guffaw for half an hour. For two days Ivan Yakovlevich couldn't bring himself to put on his new trousers, but when his old ones got so torn that even from a distance it could be seen that Ivan Yakovlevich's underpants were in dire need of mending, there was nothing for it but to sport the new trousers. In his new trousers for the first time, Ivan Yakovlevich went out extremely cautiously. Leaving the doorway, he glanced both ways first and, having convinced himself that there was no one nearby, stepped out on to the street and swiftly strode off in the direction of his office. The first person he met was an apple seller with a big basket on his head. He said nothing on catching sight of Ivan Yakovlevich and only when Ivan Yakovlevich had walked past did he stop and, since his basket would not allow him to turn his head, the apple seller turned his whole person and followed Ivan Yakovlevich with his eyes – and perhaps would have shaken his head if, once again, it had not been for that same basket. Ivan Yakovlevich stepped it out jauntily, considering his encounter with the fruit seller to have been a good omen. He had not seen the tradesman's manoeuvre and he reassured himself that his trousers were not as startling as all that. There now walked towards Ivan Yakovlevich an office worker of just the same type as he himself, with a briefcase under his arm. The office worker was walking briskly, not bothering to look around him, but rather keeping a close watch underfoot. Drawing level with Ivan Yakovlevich, the office worker stole a glance at Ivan Yakovlevich's trousers and stopped in his tracks. Ivan Yakovlevich stopped as well. The office worker looked at Ivan Yakovlevich, as did Ivan Yakovlevich at the office worker.
– Excuse me – said the office worker – you couldn't tell me how to get to the… national… exchange?
– To get there you'll have to go along this footpath… along this footbridge… no, I mean, you'll have to go this way and then that way – said Ivan Yakovlevich.