Victor Dragunsky - Incredible stories. Deniskin's stories

Deniska's stories of Dragunsky. Viktor Yuzefovich Dragunsky was born on December 1, 1913 in New York, into a Jewish family of emigrants from Russia. Soon after that, the parents returned to their homeland and settled in Gomel. During the war, Victor's father died of typhus. His stepfather was I. Voitsekhovich, a red commissar who died in 1920. In 1922, another stepfather appeared - Jewish theater actor Mikhail Rubin, with whom the family traveled all over the country. In 1925 they moved to Moscow. But one day Mikhail Rubin went on tour and did not return home. What happened remains unknown.
Victor started working early. In 1930, already working, he began to attend the "Literary and Theater Workshops" of A. Diky. In 1935, he began performing as an actor at the Transport Theater (now the N.V. Gogol Theatre). At the same time, Dragunsky was engaged in literary work: he wrote feuilletons and humoresques, came up with interludes, skits, pop monologues, circus clowns. He became close with circus performers and even worked in a circus for a while. Gradually came the role. He played several roles in films (the film "The Russian Question", directed by Mikhail Romm) and was accepted into the Film Actor's Theatre. But in the theater with its huge troupe, which included eminent movie stars, young and not very famous actors did not have to rely on constant employment in performances. Then Dragunsky had the idea of creating a small amateur troupe inside the theater. True, such a troupe could be called amateur performances conditionally - the participants were professional artists. Many actors responded with pleasure to the idea of creating a parody "theatre within the theater". Dragunsky became the organizer and leader of the Blue Bird ensemble of literary and theatrical parody, which existed from 1948-1958. Actors from other Moscow theaters also began to come there. Gradually, the small troupe gained importance and repeatedly performed at the Actor's House (then: the All-Russian Theater Society), where Alexander Moiseevich Eskin was director at that time. Parody funny performances were such a resounding success that Dragunsky was invited to create a similar group with the same name in Mosestrade. For productions at the Blue Bird, together with Lyudmila Davidovich, he composed the text for several songs, which later became popular and acquired a second life on the stage: Three Waltzes, Miracle Song, Motor Ship, Star of My Fields, Birch".
During the Great Patriotic War, Dragunsky was in the militia.
Since 1940, he has been publishing feuilletons and humorous stories, later collected in the collection Iron Character (1960); writes songs, interludes, clownery, scenes for stage and circus.
Since 1959, Dragunsky has been writing funny stories about a fictional boy Denis Korablev and his friend Mishka Slonov under the general title "Deniska's Stories", based on which the films "Funny Stories" (1962), "The Girl on the Ball" (1966) are released. , "Deniska's stories" (1970), "Secret to the whole world" (1976), "The amazing adventures of Denis Korablev" (1979), short films "Where has it been seen, where has it been heard", "Captain", "Fire in the wing" and "Spyglass" (1973). These stories brought their author great popularity, it was with them that his name began to be associated. The name Deniska was not chosen by chance - that was the name of his son.
In addition, Dragunsky was the screenwriter of the film "The Magic Power of Art (1970)", in which Deniska Korablev was also displayed as a hero.
However, Viktor Dragunsky wrote prose works for adults too. In 1961, the story "He Fell on the Grass" was published about the very first days of the war. Its hero, a young artist, like the author of the book himself, despite the fact that he was not drafted into the army due to disability, joined the militia. The story "Today and Daily" (1964) is dedicated to the life of circus workers, main character which is a clown; this is a book about a man who exists in spite of time, living in his own way.
But the children's "Deniska's stories" are most famous and popular.
In the 1960s, books from this series were published in large numbers:
"Girl on the Ball",
"Enchanted Letter"
"Childhood Friend"
"Dog Thief"
"Twenty years under the bed"
"The Magical Power of Art", etc.
In the 1970s:
"Red balloon in the blue sky"
"Colorful Stories"
"Adventure" etc.
The writer died in Moscow on May 6, 1972.
The widow of V. Dragunsky Alla Dragunskaya (Semichastnaya) published a book of memoirs: “About Viktor Dragunsky. Life, creativity, memories of friends”, LLP “Chemistry and Life”, Moscow, 1999.

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"HE IS ALIVE AND SHINES..."

One evening I was sitting in the yard, near the sand, and waiting for my mother. She probably lingered at the institute, or at the store, or, perhaps, stood at the bus stop for a long time. Don't know. Only all the parents of our yard had already come, and all the guys went home with them and probably already drank tea with bagels and cheese, but my mother was still not there ...
And now the lights in the windows began to light up, and the radio began to play music, and dark clouds moved in the sky - they looked like bearded old men ...
And I wanted to eat, but my mother was still not there, and I thought that if I knew that my mother was hungry and was waiting for me somewhere at the end of the world, I would immediately run to her, and would not be late and would not made her sit on the sand and get bored.
And at that moment Mishka came out into the yard. He said:
- Great!
And I said
- Great!
Mishka sat down with me and picked up a dump truck.
- Wow! Mishka said. - Where did you get it? Does he pick up the sand himself? Not by myself? Does he dump himself? Yes? And the pen? What is she for? Can it be rotated? Yes? A? Wow! Will you give it to me home?
I said:
- No I will not give. Present. Dad gave before leaving.
The bear pouted and moved away from me. It got even darker outside.
I looked at the gate so as not to miss when my mother comes. But she didn't go. Apparently, I met Aunt Rosa, and they stand and talk and do not even think about me. I lay down on the sand.
Mishka says:
- Can you give me a dump truck?
- Get off, Mishka.
Then Mishka says:
- I can give you one Guatemala and two Barbados for him!
I speak:
- Compared Barbados with a dump truck ...
And Mishka:
- Well, do you want me to give you a swim ring?
I speak:
- He's screwed on you.
And Mishka:
- You'll stick it!
I even got angry.
- Where can I swim? In the bathroom? On Tuesdays?
And Mishka pouted again. And then he says:
- Well, it wasn't! Know my kindness! On the!
And he handed me a box of matches. I took her in hand.
- You open it, - said Mishka, - then you will see!
I opened the box and at first I didn’t see anything, and then I saw a small light green light, as if a tiny star was burning somewhere far, far away from me, and at the same time I myself was holding it in my hands now.
- What is it, Mishka, - I said in a whisper, - what is it?
- This is a firefly, - said Mishka. - What, good? He's alive, don't worry.
- Bear, - I said, - take my dump truck, do you want to? Take forever, forever! And give me this star, I'll take it home ...
And Mishka grabbed my dump truck and ran home. And I stayed with my firefly, looked at it, looked and could not get enough of it: how green it is, as if in a fairy tale, and how close, in the palm of your hand, it shines, as if from afar ... And I could not breathe evenly , and I could hear my heart beating, and a little prickle in my nose, as if I wanted to cry.
And I sat like that for a long time, a very long time. And there was no one around. And I forgot about everyone in the world.
But then my mother came, and I was very happy, and we went home. And when they began to drink tea with bagels and cheese, my mother asked:
- Well, how is your dump truck?
And I said:
- I, mother, changed it.
Mom said:
- Interesting! And for what?
I answered:
- To the firefly! Here he is in a box. Turn off the light!
And my mother turned off the light, and the room became dark, and the two of us began to look at the pale green star.
Then mom turned on the light.
"Yes," she said, "it's magic!" But still, how did you decide to give such a valuable thing as a dump truck for this worm?
“I've been waiting for you for so long,” I said, “and I was so bored, and this firefly, it turned out to be better than any dump truck in the world.
Mom looked at me intently and asked:
- And why, what exactly is it better for?
I said:
- How can you not understand? After all, he is alive! And it glows!

Viktor Yuzefovich Dragunsky

Deniskin's stories

"He's alive and glowing..."

And now the lights began to light up in the windows, and the radio began to play music, and dark clouds moved in the sky - they looked like bearded old men ...

And I wanted to eat, but my mother was still not there, and I thought that if I knew that my mother was hungry and was waiting for me somewhere at the end of the world, I would immediately run to her, and would not be late and would not made her sit on the sand and get bored.

And at that moment Mishka came out into the yard. He said:

Great!

And I said

Great!

Mishka sat down with me and picked up a dump truck.

Wow! Mishka said. - Where did you get it? Does he pick up the sand himself? Not by myself? Does he dump himself? Yes? And the pen? What is she for? Can it be rotated? Yes? A? Wow! Will you give it to me home?

I said:

No I will not give. Present. Dad gave before leaving.

The bear pouted and moved away from me. It got even darker outside.

I looked at the gate so as not to miss when my mother comes. But she didn't go. Apparently, I met Aunt Rosa, and they stand and talk and don’t even think about me. I lay down on the sand.

Mishka says:

Can't you give me a dump truck?

Get off, Mishka.

Then Mishka says:

I can give you one Guatemala and two Barbados for him!

I speak:

Compared Barbados with a dump truck ...

Well, do you want me to give you a swim ring?

I speak:

He's screwed on you.

You will glue it!

I even got angry.

Where to swim? In the bathroom? On Tuesdays?

And Mishka pouted again. And then he says:

Well, it wasn't! Know my kindness! On the!

And he handed me a box of matches. I took it in my hands.

You open it, - said Mishka, - then you will see!

I opened the box and at first I didn’t see anything, and then I saw a small light green light, as if a tiny star was burning somewhere far, far away from me, and at the same time I myself was holding it in my hands now.

What is it, Mishka, - I said in a whisper, - what is it?

This is a firefly, - said Mishka. - What, good? He's alive, don't worry.

Bear, - I said, - take my dump truck, do you want it? Take forever, forever! And give me this star, I'll take it home ...

And Mishka grabbed my dump truck and ran home. And I stayed with my firefly, looked at it, looked and could not get enough of it: how green it is, as if in a fairy tale, and how close it is, in the palm of your hand, but it shines, as if from afar ... And I could not breathe evenly, and I could hear my heart beating, and my nose pricked a little, as if I wanted to cry.

And I sat like that for a long time, a very long time. And there was no one around. And I forgot about everyone in the world.

But then my mother came, and I was very happy, and we went home. And when they began to drink tea with bagels and cheese, my mother asked:

Well, how's your dump truck?

And I said:

I, my mother, changed it.

Mom said:

Interesting! And for what?

I answered:

To the firefly! Here he is in a box. Turn off the light!

And my mother turned off the light, and the room became dark, and the two of us began to look at the pale green star.

Then mom turned on the light.

Yes, she said, it's magic! But still, how did you decide to give such a valuable thing as a dump truck for this worm?

I've been waiting for you for so long, - I said, - and I was so bored, and this firefly, it turned out to be better than any dump truck in the world.

Mom looked at me intently and asked:

And why, what exactly is it better for?

I said:

How can you not understand?! After all, he is alive! And it glows!

Glory to Ivan Kozlovsky

I have only fives in the report card. Only a four in calligraphy. Because of the blot. I don't really know what to do! I always have blots coming off my pen. I already dip only the very tip of the pen into the ink, but the blots still come off. Just some miracles! Once I wrote a whole page cleanly, cleanly, it's expensive to look at - a real five-page page. In the morning I showed it to Raisa Ivanovna, and there, in the very middle of the blot! Where did she come from? She wasn't there yesterday! Maybe it leaked from some other page? Don't know…

And so I have one five. Only singing triple. This is how it happened. We had a singing lesson. At first, we all sang in unison, "There was a birch tree in the field." It turned out very beautifully, but Boris Sergeevich frowned all the time and shouted:

Pull the vowels, friends, pull the vowels!..

Then we began to draw vowels, but Boris Sergeevich clapped his hands and said:

A real cat concert! Let's deal with each one individually.

This means with each one separately.

And Boris Sergeevich called Mishka.

Mishka went up to the piano and whispered something to Boris Sergeevich.

Then Boris Sergeevich began to play, and Mishka sang softly:

Like thin ice
White snow fell...

Well, Mishka squeaked funny! This is how our kitten Murzik squeaks. Is that how they sing! Almost nothing is heard. I just couldn't help it and laughed.

Then Boris Sergeevich gave Mishka a five and looked at me.

He said:

Come on, guinea pig, come out!

I quickly ran to the piano.

Well, what are you going to do? Boris Sergeevich asked politely.

I said:

Song of the Civil War "Lead, Budyonny, bolder us into battle."

Boris Sergeevich shook his head and began to play, but I immediately stopped him:

Please play louder! - I said.

Boris Sergeevich said:

You will not be heard.

But I said

Will. And how!

Boris Sergeevich began to play, and I took in as much air as I could sing:

High in the clear sky
Curly scarlet banner ...

I really like this song.

So I see the blue-blue sky, it's hot, the horses are clattering with their hooves, they have beautiful purple eyes, and a scarlet banner curls in the sky.

Here I even closed my eyes in delight and shouted with all my might:

We ride horses there
Where is the enemy!
And in an intoxicating battle ...

I sang well, probably, it was even heard on the other street:

A swift avalanche! We rush forward!.. Hurrah!..

Reds always win! Retreat, enemies! Give!!!

I pressed my fists on my stomach, it came out even louder, and I almost burst:

We crashed into the Crimea!

Here I stopped because I was sweaty and my knees were trembling.

And although Boris Sergeevich played, he somehow leaned over the piano, and his shoulders were shaking too ...

I said:

Monstrous! - Boris Sergeevich praised.

Good song, right? I asked.

Good, - said Boris Sergeevich and covered his eyes with a handkerchief.

It's just a pity that you played very quietly, Boris Sergeevich, - I said, - it could have been even louder.

Okay, I'll take it into account, - said Boris Sergeevich, - Didn't you notice that I played one thing, and you sang a little differently!

No, I said, I didn't notice! Yes, it doesn't matter. I just needed to play louder.

Well, - said Boris Sergeevich, - since you haven't noticed anything, let's give you a three for now. For diligence.

How about three? I even rushed. How can this be? Three is too little! The bear sang softly and then got a five ... I said:

Boris Sergeevich, when I rest a little, I can do it even louder, don't think. I didn't have a good breakfast today. And then I can sing so that everyone's ears will be laid here. I know another song. When I sing it at home, all the neighbors come running, asking what happened.

What is this? asked Boris Sergeevich.

Compassionate, - I said and started:

I loved you…
More love maybe...

But Boris Sergeevich hastily said:

Well, well, well, we will discuss all this next time.

And then the phone rang.

Mom met me in the locker room. When we were about to leave, Boris Sergeevich approached us.

Well,” he said, smiling, “perhaps your boy will be Lobachevsky, perhaps Mendeleev. He can become Surikov or Koltsov, I would not be surprised if he becomes known to the country, as Comrade Nikolai Mamai or some boxer is known, but I can absolutely assure you of one thing: he will not achieve the glory of Ivan Kozlovsky. Never!

Mom blushed terribly and said:

Well, we'll see that!

Dragunsky's stories read

Deniskin's stories of Dragunsky, with a slight movement of the author's thought, lift the veil of the daily life of children, their joys and worries. Communication with peers, relationships with parents, various incidents in life - this is what Viktor Dragunsky describes in his works. Funny stories with a sensitive vision of important details, characteristic of the author, occupy a special place in world literature. The writer is known for his ability to see the good in everything and wonderfully explain to children what is really good and what is bad. In Dragunsky's stories, each child will find features similar to himself, get answers to exciting questions and laugh heartily at funny incidents from the lives of children.

Viktor Dragunsky. Interesting biography details

Readers are usually surprised to learn that Victor was born in New York. It so happened that his parents moved there in search of a better life, but they failed to settle down in a new place. After only a year, the boy and his parents returned to their homeland - to the city of Gomel (Belarus).

The childhood of Viktor Dragunsky passed on the road. His stepfather took him on tour with him, where the child learned to parody people well and generally play for the audience. At that moment, his creative future was already predetermined, however, like most children's writers, he did not immediately come to this occupation.

The Great Patriotic War left its mark on his fate. Thoughts, aspirations, pictures of what he saw in the war, changed Victor forever. After the war, Dragunsky set out to create his own theater, where every talented young actor could prove himself. He succeeded. The blue bird - this was the name of Victor's parody theater, which gained recognition and fame in a matter of moments. This happened with everything, for which Dragunsky would not undertake. Starting to read Deniskin's stories, you will definitely notice notes of the author's subtle humor, with which he attracted children to the theater and circus. The kids were crazy about him!

It was this theater that became the starting point of his path, which led to writing, which later left us Deniska's stories as a gift. Viktor Dragunsky began to notice that during his speeches, children had a particularly good reaction. Dragunsky was even lucky enough to work as a clown, having won the love of little spectators.

In the late 50s, according to the recollections of friends, it seemed to Victor that it was time to change something in life. He did not leave the feeling of approaching something new on creative way. And then one day, while in his sad thoughts, Dragunsky wrote the first children's story, which became a real outlet for him. Dragunsky's first Deniskin stories became instantly popular.

Deniskin's stories are so interesting to read because the author had a real talent to easily and vividly describe everyday situations, to laugh at them merrily, and sometimes to reflect. Victor Dragunsky could not predict that his works would become classics of children's literature, but the knowledge of children and love for them did their job ...

* * *

About my dad

When I was little, I had a dad. Viktor Dragunsky. Famous children's writer. Only no one believed me that he was my dad. And I screamed: “This is my dad, dad, dad!!!” And she started to fight. Everyone thought he was my grandfather. Because he was no longer very young. I am a late child. Junior. I have two older brothers - Lenya and Denis. They are smart, scholarly, and quite bald. But they know a lot more stories about dad than I do. But since it wasn’t them who became children’s writers, but I, then they usually ask me to write something about dad.

My dad was born a long time ago. In 2013, on the first of December, he would have turned one hundred years old. And not somewhere there he was born, but in New York. This is how it happened - his mom and dad were very young, got married and left the Belarusian city of Gomel for America, for happiness and wealth. I don’t know about happiness, but they didn’t work out with wealth at all. They ate exclusively bananas, and in the house where they lived, hefty rats ran. And they returned back to Gomel, and after a while they moved to Moscow, to Pokrovka. There my dad did not study well at school, but he liked to read books. Then he worked at a factory, studied to be an actor and worked in the Theater of Satire, and also as a clown in a circus and wore a red wig. Maybe that's why I have red hair. And as a child, I also wanted to be a clown.

Dear readers!!! People often ask me how my dad is doing, and they ask me to ask him to write something else - bigger and funnier. I don’t want to upset you, but my dad died a long time ago when I was only six years old, that is, more than thirty years ago, it turns out. Therefore, I remember very few cases about him.

One such case. My dad was very fond of dogs. He always dreamed of getting a dog, only his mother did not allow him, but finally, when I was five and a half years old, a spaniel puppy named Toto appeared in our house. So wonderful. Eared, spotted and with thick paws. He had to be fed six times a day, like a baby, which made mom a little angry ... And then one day dad and I come from somewhere or just sit at home alone, and we want to eat something. We go to the kitchen and find a saucepan with semolina, and so tasty (I generally can’t stand semolina) that we immediately eat it. And then it turns out that this is Totoshina porridge, which my mother specially cooked in advance to mix it with some vitamins, as it should be for puppies. Mom was offended, of course.

Outrageous is a children's writer, an adult, and ate puppy porridge.

They say that in his youth my dad was terribly cheerful, he was always inventing something, around him there were always the coolest and witty people in Moscow, and at home we always had noisy, fun, laughter, a holiday, a feast and solid celebrities. Unfortunately, I don’t remember this anymore - when I was born and grew up a little, dad was very ill with hypertension, high blood pressure, and it was impossible to make noise in the house. My friends, who are now quite adult aunts, still remember that I had to walk on tiptoe so as not to disturb my dad. Somehow they didn’t even let me in to see him very much, so that I wouldn’t disturb him. But I still penetrated to him, and we played - I was a frog, and dad was a respected and kind lion.

My dad and I also went to eat bagels on Chekhov Street, there was such a bakery with bagels and a milkshake. We were also in the circus on Tsvetnoy Boulevard, we were sitting very close, and when the clown Yuri Nikulin saw my dad (and they worked together in the circus before the war), he was very happy, took a microphone from the ringmaster and sang “The Song about Hares” especially for us .

My dad also collected bells, we have a whole collection at home, and now I continue to replenish it.

If you read "Deniska's Stories" attentively, you will understand how sad they are. Not all, of course, but some - just very much. I won't name now which ones. You yourself read and feel. And then - let's check. Some people are surprised, they say, how did an adult manage to penetrate the soul of a child, speak on his behalf, just as if the child himself had told it? .. And it’s very simple - dad remained a little boy all his life. Exactly! A person does not have time to grow up at all - life is too short. A person only manages to learn how to eat without getting dirty, walk without falling, do something there, smoke, lie, shoot from a machine gun, or vice versa - treat, teach ... All people are children. Well, at least almost everything. Only they don't know about it.

I don't remember much about my dad. But I can compose all sorts of stories - funny, strange and sad. I have this from him.

And my son Tema is very similar to my dad. Well, spilled! In the house in Karetny Ryad, where we live in Moscow, there are elderly pop artists who remember my dad when he was young. And they call Theme just that - "Dragoon offspring." And we, along with Tema, love dogs. We have a lot of dogs at the dacha, and those that are not ours just come to us for lunch. Once a striped dog came, we treated her to a cake, and she liked it so much that she ate and barked with joy with her mouth full.

Xenia Dragunskaya

"He's alive and glowing..."

And now the lights in the windows began to light up, and the radio began to play music, and dark clouds moved in the sky - they looked like bearded old men ...

And at that moment Mishka came out into the yard. He said:

- Great!

And I said

- Great!

Mishka sat down with me and picked up a dump truck.

- Wow! Mishka said. - Where did you get it? Does he pick up the sand himself? Not by myself? Does he dump himself? Yes? And the pen? What is she for? Can it be rotated? Yes? A? Wow! Will you give it to me home?

I said:

- No I will not give. Present. Dad gave before leaving.

The bear pouted and moved away from me. It got even darker outside.

I looked at the gate so as not to miss when my mother comes. But she didn't go. Apparently, I met Aunt Rosa, and they stand and talk and do not even think about me. I lay down on the sand.

Mishka says:

- Can you give me a dump truck?

- Get off, Mishka.

Then Mishka says:

“I can give you one Guatemala and two Barbados for him!”

I speak:

- Compared Barbados with a dump truck ...

- Well, do you want me to give you a swim ring?

I speak:

- He's screwed on you.

- You'll glue it!

I even got angry.

- Where can I swim? In the bathroom? On Tuesdays?

And Mishka pouted again. And then he says:

- Well, it wasn't! Know my kindness! On the!

And he handed me a box of matches. I took her in hand.

- You open it, - said Mishka, - then you will see!

“What is it, Mishka,” I said in a whisper, “what is it?

“It’s a firefly,” said Mishka. - What, good? He's alive, don't worry.

“Mishka,” I said, “take my dump truck, do you want to?” Take forever, forever! And give me this star, I'll take it home ...

And Mishka grabbed my dump truck and ran home. And I stayed with my firefly, looked at it, looked and could not get enough of it: how green it is, as if in a fairy tale, and how close it is, in the palm of your hand, but it shines, as if from afar ... And I could not breathe evenly, and I could hear my heart beating and my nose pricked a little, as if I wanted to cry.

And I sat like that for a long time, a very long time. And there was no one around. And I forgot about everyone in the world.

But then my mother came, and I was very happy, and we went home. And when they began to drink tea with bagels and cheese, my mother asked:

- Well, how is your dump truck?

And I said:

- I, mother, changed it.

Mom said:

- Interesting! And for what?

I answered:

- To the firefly! Here he is in a box. Turn off the light!

And my mother turned off the light, and the room became dark, and the two of us began to look at the pale green star.

Then mom turned on the light.

“Yes,” she said, “it’s magic!” But still, how did you decide to give such a valuable thing as a dump truck for this worm?

“I've been waiting for you for so long,” I said, “and I was so bored, and this firefly, it turned out to be better than any dump truck in the world.

Mom looked at me intently and asked:

- And what, exactly, is it better?

I said:

- How can you not understand? After all, he is alive! And it glows!

The secret becomes clear

I heard my mother say to someone in the hallway:

- ... The secret always becomes clear.

And when she entered the room, I asked:

- What does it mean, mother: "The secret becomes clear"?

“And this means that if someone acts dishonestly, they will find out about him anyway, and he will be ashamed, and he will be punished,” my mother said. – Understood?.. Go to bed!

I brushed my teeth, went to bed, but did not sleep, but all the time I thought: how is it that the secret becomes clear? And I didn’t sleep for a long time, and when I woke up, it was morning, dad was already at work, and my mom and I were alone. I brushed my teeth again and started eating breakfast.

First I ate an egg. This is still tolerable, because I ate one yolk, and shredded the protein with the shell so that it was not visible. But then my mother brought a whole bowl of semolina.

– Eat! Mom said. - No talking!

I said:

- I can’t see semolina!

But my mother screamed:

“Look who you look like!” Poured Koschey! Eat. You must get better.

I said:

- I'm crushing on her!

Then my mother sat down next to me, put her arm around my shoulders and asked kindly:

- Do you want to go with you to the Kremlin?

Well, still ... I do not know anything more beautiful than the Kremlin. I was there in the Palace of Facets and in the Armory, I stood near the Tsar Cannon and I know where Ivan the Terrible was sitting. And there is still a lot of interesting things. So I quickly answered my mother:

- Of course, I want to go to the Kremlin! Even more!

Then mom smiled.

- Well, eat all the porridge, and let's go. And I'll wash the dishes. Just remember - you have to eat everything to the bottom!

And my mother went to the kitchen.

And I was left alone with the porridge. I spanked her with a spoon. Then he salted it. I tried it - well, it's impossible to eat! Then I thought that maybe there is not enough sugar? He sprinkled sand, tried it ... It got even worse. I don't like porridge, I tell you.

And she was also very thick. If it was liquid, then another thing, I would close my eyes and drink it. Then I took and poured boiling water into the porridge. It was still slippery, sticky and disgusting. The main thing is that when I swallow, my throat contracts itself and pushes this porridge back. Terribly embarrassing! After all, you want to go to the Kremlin! And then I remembered that we have horseradish. With horseradish, it seems that almost everything can be eaten! I took the whole jar and poured it into the porridge, and when I tried it a little, my eyes immediately popped into my forehead and my breathing stopped, and I must have lost consciousness, because I took the plate, quickly ran to the window and threw the porridge out into the street. Then he immediately returned and sat down at the table.

At this time, my mother entered. She looked at the plate and was delighted:

- Well, what a Deniska, what a good fellow! Ate all the porridge to the bottom! Well, get up, get dressed, working people, let's go for a walk in the Kremlin! And she kissed me.

At the same moment the door opened and a policeman entered the room. He said:

- Hello! – and went to the window and looked down. - And also an intelligent person.

- What you need? Mom asked sternly.

- What a shame! - The policeman even stood at attention. - The state provides you with new housing, with all the amenities and, by the way, with a garbage chute, and you pour various muck out the window!

- Do not slander. I don't spill anything!

- Oh, you don't spill it?! The policeman laughed sarcastically. And, opening the door to the corridor, he shouted: - The victim!

And some uncle came to us.

As I looked at him, I immediately realized that I would not go to the Kremlin.

This guy had a hat on his head. And on the hat is our porridge. She lay almost in the middle of the hat, in the dimple, and a little along the edges, where the ribbon is, and a little behind the collar, and on the shoulders, and on the left trouser leg. As soon as he entered, he immediately began to stutter:

- The main thing is that I'm going to take pictures ... And suddenly such a story ... Porridge ... mm ... semolina ... Hot, by the way, through the hat and then ... it burns ... How can I send my ... ff ... photo when I'm covered in porridge ?!

Then mother looked at me, and her eyes turned green, like gooseberries, and this is a sure sign that mother was terribly angry.

“Excuse me, please,” she said quietly, “permit me, I’ll clean you up, come here!”

And all three of them went out into the corridor.

And when my mother returned, I was even afraid to look at her. But I overcame myself, went up to her and said:

Yes, Mom, you said it right yesterday. The secret always becomes clear!

Mom looked into my eyes. She looked for a long time and then asked:

Did you remember this for the rest of your life?

And I answered:

Don't bang, don't bang!

When I was a preschooler, I was terribly compassionate. I couldn't hear anything pathetic at all. And if someone ate someone, or threw him into the fire, or imprisoned him, I immediately began to cry. For example, the wolves ate a goat, and horns and legs remained of him. I roar. Or Babarikha put the queen and the prince in a barrel and threw this barrel into the sea. I'm crying again. But how! Tears run from me in thick streams straight to the floor and even merge into whole puddles.

The main thing is that when I listened to fairy tales, I was already in the mood to cry in advance, even before that most terrible place. My lips twisted and broke, and my voice began to tremble, as if someone was shaking me by the scruff of the neck. And my mother simply didn’t know what to do, because I always asked her to read me or tell me fairy tales, and a little it came to the terrible, as I immediately understood this and began to shorten the fairy tale on the go. For some two or three seconds before disaster strikes, I was already beginning to ask in a trembling voice: “Skip this place!”

Mom, of course, skipped, jumped from fifth to tenth, and I listened further, but only quite a bit, because in fairy tales something happens every minute, and as soon as it became clear that some kind of misfortune was about to happen again , I again began to yell and beg: “And skip this!”

Mom again missed some bloody crime, and I calmed down for a while. And so, with excitement, stops and quick contractions, my mother and I eventually got to a happy ending.

Of course, I still realized that the tales from all this became somehow not very interesting: firstly, they were very short, and secondly, there were almost no adventures in them at all. But on the other hand, I could listen to them calmly, not shed tears, and then, after such tales, I could still sleep at night, and not wallow with my eyes open and be afraid until morning. And that's why I really liked such abbreviated fairy tales. They were so calm. Like cool sweet tea anyway. For example, there is such a fairy tale about Little Red Riding Hood. Mom and I missed so much in her that she became the most a short fairy tale in the world and the happiest. Her mother used to say this:

“Once upon a time there was Little Red Riding Hood. Once she baked pies and went to visit her grandmother. And they began to live, live and make good.

And I was glad that everything turned out so well for them. But, unfortunately, that was not all. I especially experienced another fairy tale, about a hare. This is such a short fairy tale, like a counting rhyme, everyone in the world knows it:

One two three four five,
The bunny went out for a walk
Suddenly the hunter runs out...

And here it was already starting to tingle in my nose and my lips parted in different directions, upper to the right, lower to the left, and the fairy tale continued at that time ... The hunter, it means, suddenly runs out and ...

Shoots straight at the bunny!

This is where my heart skipped a beat. I couldn't understand how it works. Why is this ferocious hunter shooting directly at the bunny? What did the bunny do to him? What did he start first, or what? After all, no! After all, he wasn't pissed off, was he? He just went out for a walk! And this one, without further ado:

Bang Bang!

From your heavy shotgun! And then tears began to flow from me, like from a faucet. Because the bunny wounded in the stomach screamed:

Oh oh oh!

He shouted:

- Oh oh oh! Goodbye everyone! Farewell, bunnies and bunnies! Farewell, my cheerful, easy life! Farewell, scarlet carrots and crispy cabbage! Farewell forever, my clearing, and flowers, and dew, and the whole forest, where under every bush both a table and a house were ready!

I saw with my own eyes how a gray bunny lies down under a thin birch tree and dies ... I burst into three streams with burning tears and spoiled everyone's mood, because I had to be calmed, and I only roared and roared ...

And then one night, when everyone had gone to bed, I lay for a long time on my cot and remembered the poor bunny and kept thinking how good it would be if this did not happen to him. How really good it would be if all this hadn't happened. And I thought about it for so long that suddenly, imperceptibly for myself, I rewrote the whole story:

One two three four five,
The bunny went out for a walk
Suddenly the hunter runs out...
Right in the bunny...
Doesn't shoot!!!
Don't bang! Not puff!
Don't oh-oh-oh!
My bunny is not dying!!!

Wow! I even laughed! How difficult it all turned out! It was the real miracle. Don't bang! Not puff! I put only one short "no", and the hunter, as if nothing had happened, stomped past the bunny in his hemmed boots. And he stayed alive! He will again play in the mornings in the dewy clearing, he will jump and jump and beat with his paws on the old, rotten stump. Such a funny, glorious drummer!

And so I lay in the dark and smiled and wanted to tell my mother about this miracle, but I was afraid to wake her up. And eventually fell asleep. And when I woke up, I already knew forever that I would no longer roar in pitiful places, because now I can intervene at any moment in all these terrible injustices, I can intervene and turn everything around in my own way, and everything will be fine. It is only necessary to say in time: “Don’t bang, don’t bang!”

That I love

I really like to lie on my stomach on my father's knee, lower my arms and legs and hang on my knee like that, like linen on a fence. I also really like to play checkers, chess and dominoes, only to be sure to win. If you don't win, then don't.

I love listening to the beetle dig into the box. And I like to get into bed with my dad in the morning to talk with him about the dog: how we will live more spaciously, and buy a dog, and we will work with it, and we will feed it, and how funny and smart it will be, and how she will steal sugar, and I will wipe the puddles after her, and she will follow me like a faithful dog.

I also like to watch TV: it doesn't matter what they show, even if it's only tables.

I love to breathe through my nose into my mother's ear. I especially love to sing and always sing very loudly.

I terribly love stories about red cavalrymen, and that they always win.

I like to stand in front of the mirror and make faces like I'm Petrushka from puppet theater. I love sprats too.

I like to read fairy tales about Kanchil. This is such a small, smart and mischievous doe. She has merry eyes, and little horns, and pink polished hooves. When we live more spaciously, we will buy Kanchil, he will live in the bathroom. I also like to swim where it is shallow so that I can hold my hands on the sandy bottom.

I love to wave red flags and blow "go away!" at demonstrations.

I love making phone calls.

I love planing, sawing, I know how to sculpt the heads of ancient warriors and bison, and I blinded a capercaillie and a tsar cannon. All this I love to give.

When I read, I like to nibble on crackers or something.

I love guests.

I also love snakes, lizards and frogs. They are so dexterous. I carry them in my pockets. I like to have the snake lying on the table when I have lunch. I love it when my grandmother screams about the frog: “Remove this muck!” and runs out of the room.

I love to laugh... Sometimes I don't feel like laughing at all, but I force myself, squeeze out laughter - look, after five minutes it really becomes funny.

When I'm in a good mood, I like to ride. One day my dad and I went to the zoo, and I was jumping around him in the street, and he asked:

- What are you jumping?

And I said:

- I jump that you are my dad!

He understood!

I love going to the zoo! There are wonderful elephants. And there is one elephant. When we live more spaciously, we will buy a baby elephant. I'll build him a garage.

I really like to stand behind the car when it snorts and sniff the gas.

I like to go to cafes - eat ice cream and drink it with sparkling water. Her nose hurts and tears come to her eyes.

When I run down the hallway, I like to stomp my feet with all my might.

I love horses very much, they have such beautiful and kind faces.