Холдор Вулкан : другие произведения.

9th Chapter of the short novel of Holdor Volcano "Falling leaves"

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Школа кожевенного мастерства: сумки, ремни своими руками
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    And you, dear parents, what a fast price! How much do you ask for your baby?! The father and mother of the child called the price. - Well, almost free, come on, give me your cash faster, gentlemen, buyers, and take away the boy, before the parents of Kumbalkardon change their mind - said the broker Abu Abdullatif Ibn Rahmatulla, frantically shaking the hand of one of the buyers. Customers wanted to haggle, but then poor Kumbalkardon, hugged the leg of his mother, wept bitterly and begged with tears in his eyes: - Mom, dad, don't sell me, please, I'll obey you. I'll look after my brother and I won't take anything from the fridge. With outstretched hands I beg at the bus stops. Then collected the little things will bring you every last penny. If you sell me, I'll miss you and my brother and our dog Bobik. I'll just die of melancholy. I love you dad, mom... I will never ask you to buy me ice cream - he said, looking at the parents as on Telegraph poles with hope, eyes full of tears. Meanwhile, the bargaining began. - Comrade broker, you say a child is almost free, and the parents of Kumbalkardon that price for which you can buy a hundred of children together with the kindergarten, besides this child - oblique and Burr. Let the parents of Kumbalkardon make allowances for the slant eyes of the child and for Burr, too,- said one of the buyers, unhappy looking at the boy.
  
   9th chapter of the short novel of Holder Volcano "Falling leaves"
  
  
  
  
   Woodcutter
  
  
  
   Sultan drove his tractor on a country road, thinking about the beauty of Khurshida, forgetting about everything else but the steering wheel and the road.
  
   - What a beautiful girl! What hair she has, what hair, my God! They look like curly seaweed in clear water on the coast of the ocean, on some quiet Atoll, and the figure of her? Eyes, lips, smooth chin, Swan neck and white tender hands! If Khurshida participates in the international beauty contest, I am one hundred percent sure that she will take first place and will take the title of "the most beautiful girl on the planet". I wonder if Khurshida has a boyfriend. I wonder why I did not immediately ask her? Oh, why does this car slow down like a turtle from the Galapagos Islands? On other days, the sun quickly rises over the fields and wakes skylarks, who selflessly poured a trill on an empty stomach, and there look - it's already heading into the sunset, where the plaintive buzzing mosquitoes. Oh, this beauty slowly and silently rises like a moon, quietly illuminating the deserted fields of my soul, driving me crazy! How can I work and live without her now? And how loudly she laughs!
  
   With such thoughts the tractor driver Sultan arrived at the field where the cotton pickers in the morning started picking cotton. Sultan parked his tractor in a convenient place, where at lunchtime cotton workers bring cotton to weigh the collected cotton in huge bales. Sitting in the cockpit, he found the sight Khurshida, jumped from the cab and approached her. They said Hello.
  
   - Well, mister slacker monsieur Sultan de La Crua je'mapple a la maison general, la bien, merci beaucoup moi, help me gather the cotton? Here, take my extra apron and put it - he grinned Khurshida.
  
   - And, of course, will help, madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege - said the tractor driver Sultan, wearing the apron, so from the front it formed a pouch like a kangaroo.
  
   - Well, how similar I am now on the kangaroo? - the Sultan Bouncing asked.
  
   - The kangaroo arms are very short and You have Avon how long it is. said Khurshid fun and laughing loudly.
  
   - Yeah? You find? However, madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege , may you can climb up to my bumper and I'll ride across the Savannah cotton fields, doing a two-meter jump - said the tractor driver Sultan.
  
   Khurshida again burst into laughter. So, talking, the lovers began to collect cotton.
  
   -Sultan, who were You before, before you got here? - asked Khurshida.
  
   -Oh, it's a long story - he started to remember about his past Sultan, not looking up from his work and continued.
  
   - I have previously worked as a migrant worker lumberjack in the distant Taiga forest. There I was not paid, that is, I worked as a volunteer, as they say, at the call of the heart. The work was quite interesting and I liked it. Believe Me, Khurshida. Have you ever been to the Taiga? No? Well, you didn't live in that world then. Oh, taiga! I love her! You know, dear, Khurshida, well, with nothing to compare the scent of the pines, which creaked and rattled fall to the ground, scaring the wild birds and animals, when I felled them with a chain saw. Like pine cones! Like souvenirs!They can decorate the Christmas tree. After felling the forest again subsides, and the air is filled with the smell of fresh crust that I was intoxicated by this scent! One day, a good job, we are all migrant workers from Central Asia, sitting around the campfire, drying their wet foot cloths and tarpaulin boots without soles. In the meantime, somewhere out there in the distance began to batter the dried bark of a pine, a lone woodpecker, type "Trrrrrrr! Trrrrrrr!". We, the woodcutters, with special attention listened to romantic knock of a woodpecker. A woodpecker here and there, in another place relentlessly hammer and hammer dried pine. Fractional sound of their knocking echoed echo in the dense taiga. And the fire burns with a bang, throwing in the air and orange sparks grey dragon raised an incredible smoke. Sitting, listening to this magical fraction of the sound generated by the solid beak of the woodpecker forest and can't get enough of. Look here, burning my foot-cloth that was drying on my breech tarpaulin boots without soles.
  
   - Oh, my! - Wildly I shouted in panic and quickly leaping up, began to put out foot cloths hands, but there it was. The flames spread to my trousers with numerous patches. I, all in confusion, I beat, means, hands on burning trousers, but alas, I didn't manage to localize the fire. The more I beat, the scarier the fire raged. Well, that my friend Turik, well, this, Tapparo from Tyumen poured water from the bucket in my boots without soles, which burned foot cloths and Oh, my! In the bucket was not water but gasoline And-93 for refueling chainsaws. How then erupted into flames, my boots, foot cloths and legs! I scream and run away from sin, abuse of the Turik Tuparova from Tyumen, beckoning to the aid of their fellow migrant workers who were sleeping in sleeping bags hanging on the trees like bats in dark caves, around growing high grass, swaying in the wind like a green sea, as a botanic garden. The flame naturally spread to the grass, a terrible forest fire broke out and the endless Taiga began to burn with a Bang, burning wood blazing. Fortunately, just at that moment, right on cue, the storm broke, lightning flashed, thunder boomed, thunder, and the sound of pouring rain. In short, a miracle happened. That is, Mother Nature itself free localized forest fire, saving us together with birds and animals, and trees from apparent death. After heavy rain, I found severe burns on my legs. But, despite everything, I continued to bring down to the left and to the right century-old pines and birches by means of a chainsaw.
  
   By the evening we had to wear mosquito nets, as at this time the hunt went hungry mosquitoes, buzzing and humming swarms like a whirlwind on the field. They ruthlessly began to bite us, getting into the opening areas of our bodies with sharp proboscis. They bit even through thick sweatshirt, trying to eat the free blood of poor migrant workers from Central Asia. All around were swamps, which represent a favorable environment for mosquitoes and other families vile blood sucking insects. Lying there, especially in the tipsy state, was very dangerous. These small seemingly harmless insects can easily kill a drunken man, sucking all the blood out of him. But we, the workers, not the donors, our blood need them. Sitting at the campfire, wearing mosquito nets, and as soon as the spirits depart in the forest noticeably colder. That's when a cloud of winged vampires abruptly disappear.
  
   There are other dangers in the Taiga, such as wolves, bears and rodents. The wolves can somehow escape, climbing on, say, a tall tree. But from bear to flee futile. He climbs a tree no worse than an experienced electrician who climbs on an electric pole with iron claws to check the jumper wires and look at the same time in the yard of his mistress to find out whether her husband went on a business trip. In short, there is no escape from the angry bear. And we, guest workers, know how to escape from anyone, from a bear or a hungry pack of polar wolves. Seeing the bear at night, near our camp, we began to make noise together, hitting with a scoop or a poker on empty loud cans and buckets. This huge beast, despite his intimidating size, is afraid of the noise. Stands on its feet upright as a man, with an angry growl and goes back into the forest, just like the painting of a great artist Ivan Shishkin.
  
   I like that are in suspension in a sleeping bag like the flying bat in a dark cave, the moon selflessly shines over the forest, the stars twinkle. And all of a sudden, I fell asleep without even counting the stars to four thousand eight hundred and fifty seven. In the dream I was walking on some market, there is a huge crowd, crush, noise and hubbub. I see people running towards the flea market, surrounded by a dense ring of the same type, which advertised something with a loud voice. It was a broker, Abu Abdullatif Ibn Rahmatulla. He spoke quickly, like an experienced broker at the auction.
  
   - Boy, means, want to purchase, Yes? Well, then you are here, gentlemen! We have a wide range of products, as they say, for every taste, that is, in these cells - boys, and in these - girls. You can buy and make them work on cotton plantations slave under a whistling long whip.They are between the ages of one and ten. You can choose. Don't worry, they're not stolen. Each of these products has the appropriate certificates, birth certificates, and that's just their parents are also here. They are ready to enter into a bargain with you. Do not forget, gentlemen buyers that the cheapest children in the world you will find only here. Almost free! Sellers such as these parents, such goods as these children and such an honest broker like me, you will not find anywhere else! For example, I would suggest to you that this boy Kumbalkardon. He is very smart and obedient... With these words the broker Abu Abdullatif Ibn Rahmatulla officially opened the cage door to release the children outside.
  
   Come on, Kumbalkardon, you came to buyers... he said, helping the child to get out of tight cages with a stick, child on all fours out of the cage. Broker Abu Abdullatif Ibn Rahmatulla continued:
  
   -Well, Kumbalkardon, show us quickly your art. What can you do? Can, would you read us poems Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin?
  
   - I can count to a hundred ' replied the child, showing off, and began briskly to count: one, two, three...
  
   - Well, enough, enough, Kumbalkardon, well done... See, gentlemen, what kind of Prodigy you're going to get.
  And you, dear parents, what a fast price! How much do you ask for your baby?! The father and mother of the child called the price. - Well, almost free, come on, give me your cash faster, gentlemen, buyers, and take away the boy, before the parents of Kumbalkardon change their mind - said the broker Abu Abdullatif Ibn Rahmatulla, frantically shaking the hand of one of the buyers. Customers wanted to haggle, but then poor Kumbalkardon, hugged the leg of his mother, wept bitterly and begged with tears in his eyes: - Mom, dad, don't sell me, please, I'll obey you. I'll look after my brother and I won't take anything from the fridge. With outstretched hands I beg at the bus stops. Then collected the little things will bring you every last penny. If you sell me, I'll miss you and my brother and our dog Bobik. I'll just die of melancholy. I love you dad, mom... I will never ask you to buy me ice cream - he said, looking at the parents as on Telegraph poles with hope, eyes full of tears. Meanwhile, the bargaining began. - Comrade broker, you say a child is almost free, and the parents of Kumbalkardon that price for which you can buy a hundred of children together with the kindergarten, besides this child - oblique and Burr. Let the parents of Kumbalkardon make allowances for the slant eyes of the child and for Burr, too,- said one of the buyers, unhappy looking at the boy.
   - Well, gentlemen buyers. What is it scythed? He's just afraid of you. As for his lisping, it is a sign of genius. Many famous people were burr. For Example, Vladimir Lenin.There's such a low price, and it does not get you out of date. In fact, children are priceless! The ancient sages said so! I know many rich people who are ready to spend all their savings, gold and diamonds that they keep in Swiss banks tons for their wives to get pregnant and give birth! Children this... Does the broker Abu Abdullatif Ibn Rahmatulla was interrupted by another buyer:
  
   - Yes, it is not necessary for us to read a lecture, Mr. Broker. We'll buy a gallon for half price. If not, we will leave - he said decisively.
   Well, now it's up to you, dear parents of Kumbalkardon. Don't miss the historic chance. By the way, they called a good price - turned broker Abu Abdullatif Ibn Rahmatulla to the parents of Kumbalkardon, shaking hands with the father of the child.
  
   - Well, so be it, let him take the child, we agree. Come on, Kumbalkardon, go to them and no worries. You don't have to look after your little brother, because tomorrow we'll sell him, too, then the dog. And from the empty fridge you just do not have to take anything, because, even if you find the key to the padlock and open the refrigerator, you will not find anything edible in it, there is nothing and most likely will not be in the coming years. After we drink your brother and your Bobik, be calm, we'll get to the fridge. I mean, we'll sell it at the flea market, too. You Kumbalkardon, understand us correctly. We need money for booze, you know? We are without drinking like an astronaut with no air in outer space, like a fish out of water. Only alcohol can expand our veins in our bodies, and we will calm down for a while. As for the money you intend to rise by begging at bus stops, I will tell you in confidence, as a former economist, that this is not real income. Trust me, Kumbalkardon. Moreover, the little things that you will collect for weeks, is not enough is not what a bottle of vodka, but even for a snack. In addition, there are the police muggers to the roof of the local beggars for a certain amount of money. And there are hungry tax collectors who can take away from you all the little things for the fact that you did not pay state taxes. So, go on, as they say, with God, and do not cry like a woman beat up her husband -alcoholic - said the father of Kumbalkardon.
  
   Buyers, again and again, counting out crumpled and dirty bills, handed them to the parents of Kumbalkardon. Poor Kumbalkardon did not want to part with their parents and grasping the hem of his mom's skirt, he continued to plead that it did not sell. And the father and mother of Kumbalkardon eagerly counted received for his money. Father of Kumbalkardon even checked the bills, exposing them to the sun and said:
  
   - You will not be surprised, dear buyers. This is a time when you can't trust anyone. All around go counterfeiters with huge suitcases in their hands, stuffed with fake bills of various denominations... Well, look at that.. You are stuck in a pack of ragged and disgusting bill, which was glued with tape. Change them for whole, and on that note ball point pens written obscene words, and on the back? Well... also written something not legible... What are the bad words! And then even drew the sexual organ of a donkey... That's disgusting... Tfu! Change that too. The rest of the bills like a normal father said Drunkard. Buyers of the child changed the bills and took the living goods with a cage reminiscent of a suitcase Stalin's times. Kumbalkardon struggled and cried, trying to get away from the hands of the buyers, but this failed. Strong and reliable hands seized him and, having pushed back in the cage, ready to leave. Kumbalkardon all cried, shaking the iron bars of the cage like a little monkey at the zoo. Meanwhile, when the parents of Kumbalkardon counted the money received from buyers, they began to leave. Broker Abu Abdullatif Ibn Rahmatulla stopped buyers and said:
  
   Gentlemen, where are we going, and my share? Drive the share I've earned through honest labor. You can't. After all, I have to pass the revenue to the accounting Department of our Bazaar, and the accountant, intern, must report to the senior management about how many smart and talented children are sold today and how much. That is, we have an appropriate annual plan, which we must fulfill, in spite of that. Otherwise Store owner fired us in the neck with work, and then what? How do I feed my beloved children? I don't want to sell their children here, even when you make me need.
  
   Buyers, who apologized, gave it to a broker share and left the market. Broker Abu Abdullatif Ibn Rahmatulla went to the dealer of your child.
   - Well, the parents of a sold-out gallop, when do you intend to pay for my brokerage services? he said.
  
   The parents of the poor Kumbalkardon also gave his share and left with a satisfied smile on his lips to the side wine and spirits shop.
  
   Here I woke up in a hanging sleeping bag. But my friends, that is, guest workers from the sun of Central Asia still fast asleep. Over my hanging sleeping bag flickered distant stars, and the endless Taiga wandered lonely moon.
  
   - Well, Sultan! Listening to your stories, don't know whether to laugh or cry. What funny stories and terrible dreams! - Khurshida delightfully said.
  
   -Yes-said Sultan and continued. - Now if you please to ask you a delicate question, madam Duchess Khurshidabanu de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege - said the Sultan, without waiting for a reply, continued:
  
   - Of course, I am sorry for what you are asking sometimes silly questions, like an inexperienced investigator in an investigative soundproof room. This is because I love you, and without you I cannot live not only in this world, but even in Paradise. Well, judge for yourself, if I begin to yearn for You a few minutes after we leave, how can I live without you in Paradise, where people live forever? I love you so much that when I see you, I freeze for a moment like a wall, like the person in the picture. Answer me honestly and directly -Do you have a boyfriend or not? Calm the soul of a poor mechanic who loves you madly. Did you find it difficult to say two little words, Yes or no?
  
   After hearing the tractor driver Sultan, Khurshida blushed again. She tried not to look into the eyes of the tractor driver Sultan, who was waiting for an answer from her to his difficult inquisitive question. Finally, Khurshida spoke:
  
   - You know, you ask me very difficult questions. Well, the tractor driver Sultan, if you insist, then I will have to still answer this question. Just promise me that you won't be offended - Khurshida said, his eyes downcast.
   - Promise. The word of man - said the tractor driver Sultan, he prepared to listen.
  
   - I don't know how to tell you...Ah, if short, then... yeah, I mean... I have a guy - admitted Khurshida. From these words Sultan flinched, turned pale the face of from feelings jealousy and powerlessness.
   Yeah? - He said with difficulty, as he has a dry throat. Although the tractor driver Sultan was quite strong and a strong guy, but there he sat from impotence on a large bale of cotton.
  
   - Yes - said Khurshida.
  
   Who is he? - Sultan asked.
  
   I'm afraid to say. He's so handsome, strong, clever, Khurshida started to list the positive side of her lover guy.
  
   - Well, You cut me without a knife. Well... okay, okay. So you have a boyfriend after all. Well, it's a pity that so happened. Okay bye then, I'll leave so as not to disturb You. Au revoir, Mrs. Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manage, Au revoir said the tractor driver Sultan, rising, going out. But then it kept Khurshida said.
  
   - It's You! I mean, I don't have a boyfriend but you, Sultan! - Khurshida said smiling and blushed.
  
   -Yeah?! - asked the tractor driver Sultan started to gawk.
  
   - Yes - quietly, almost in a whisper said Khurshida.
  
   The tractor driver Sultan due to joy wanted to shout at the whole field that he's the luckiest man in the world, but Khurshida shut his mouth with palm of his gentle hands. The Sultan hugged his beloved girl tightly and kissed her on the lips, eyes, neck...
  
   - Hurrah! he said, looking into the beautiful eyes Khurshida. And she smiled through her tears.
  
  
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