Heartbreaking aria of a lying stone – MK

– Take me with you. I have long dreamed of seeing the world.

The opinions of the wanderers were divided:

– Dead weight. Why does he need us? grumbled the Terty Kalach.

“A burden,” said Shot Sparrow.

The more sympathetic and compassionate Work Horse and Black Sheep disagreed and posed the question point-blank:

“He is in a difficult position. In trouble!

What is his difficult position? That he doesn’t want to move? But is he ready to saddle us and ride on our shoulders to a bright future? – Terty Kalach got angry. “There are a lot of such gluttons, a dime a dozen, you still pile up pitfalls on yourself, the more we are now marking time near the dam,” he heatedly. – There was a desire to walk under the saddle, because only recently they gained freedom! Moreover, it is not excluded that we are being chased!

“From immobility, Stone developed anemia, muscle atrophy,” Workhorse stated her point of view. “We will gradually train him to move and restore elasticity to dead tissue.

– Dreamer! Idealist! Dreamer! Adherent to utopian theories! snorted the Scapegoat (he was, after all, a representative of academic science), but he was the first to heap the heavy Lying Stone onto his gray hump. – Compassion and mutual assistance first of all, and only then considerations of a formalistic persuasion!

On warm starry nights, under the velvet tent of the high sky, near the fire, which was kindled in the field or at the edge of the forest, the wanderers reminisced. Everyone extracted from the depths of the soul the hidden, deeply personal, that which he kept under a bushel for many years and did not dare to pluck out – from timidity, from embarrassment, bashfulness, or so as not to burst into tears.

The Beating Boy talked about his father and mother: they prepared him for a brilliant, radiant future, took him to art and music classes, and taught him foreign languages. Alas, none of these skills came in handy. Life twisted in such a way that a nondescript teenager was not needed either in the translation path or in the musical field. They took him there mainly by acquaintance, and his parents had no connections. Since he himself was not distinguished by great talents, and diligence cannot compensate for natural talent, other things being equal, the initial data preferred to choose crony candidates. He did not argue with fate, enrolled in courses for junior accountants and retrained as auditors, and later rolled down to the level of an accountant.

The Black Sheep narrated: the wolves who attacked the livestock complex almost dragged her into the forest, the yard dog Trezor intervened well and defended his wards, but when the flayers came to the barnyard with a raid, none of the ungulates of the savior protected.

The Scapegoat spoke with an unkind word to other wolves – hunters for other people’s income and other people’s property, immediately appearing where the smell of the dead. They swoop in in a flock, offer themselves as squires and security guards, and they themselves steal and appropriate everything that lies badly, it happens, raiderly seize entire enterprises: plants, factories; this happened with the scientific institute, where Kozel was responsible for providing experimental activities with technical equipment – alas, all materiel and government property were plundered.

Jester Gorokhovy walked on a wheel and produced dashing somersaults – in confirmation of the authenticity of his diploma of graduating from the studio of circus arts with a degree in self-taught wit. In his former life, his jokes and tricks were too elegant and refined, the public did not understand unobtrusive humor and booed what was boring, in their opinion, false, he had to leave the cheerful arena and take an exam at the lyceum with tobacco and cigarettes, hosiery and napkins and bathhouses. laundry plant, and then become a grinder of peas in the breadcrumb shop at the elevator. On weekends, for the sake of an extra penny, he was hired as an agent delivering kitchen and disposable tableware to picnics and bird colonies in remote areas of Franz Josef Land.

The Workhorse tremblingly reproduced the lullaby with which her grandmother lulled her, who lived in the stable to a ripe old age, and before that she worked on the harvest harvest, worked as a water carrier, flour mills, delivering an artillery cannon to the battlefields, a vestibule and a tie-down in the troika of the collective farm chairman, for which received an honorary pension.

The shot Sparrow wept about his first love for the Swallow, who flew abroad with the Swift, who turned her head, and abandoned the Sparrow:

– You are not a bird of our flight!

Sparrow wept bitterly, remembering the moment of parting and the cold squint of the traitor:

“But I read Andersen’s fairy tales, behaved towards the chosen one, as if Thumbelina cherished her, stroked and fed her, got midges and boogers … No, I don’t believe in fairy tails since then … And the vicious essence of Thumbelina also opened up before me: sometimes with the Mole, sometimes with the Beetle … Chicken god! Why did you make me so unattractive?!

Grated Kalach was silent for a long time. But it broke through:

I’m not 100% wheat. I have a small amount of oatmeal in me. I am a match for you, I, like all of you, am not complete! It hurts me!

Friends began to comfort him. Workhorse said:

– You never know what genes were mixed into the pedigree. Grandmother said: among my ancestors there are ponies, and Oryol, and Ryazan trotters, and Przhevalsky mares … So what?

The Black Sheep also laid it out:

— I feel in myself both Archaromerino, and Lecheister, and Border Leicester, and Suffolk, and Churros, and Hampshire, and Ramboulier, and Jaidar, and Spanka …

Only the Shot Sparrow rested:

– I am proud that I am not of crowned, not boyar and not noble roots and, according to high-browed criteria, is unborn, not like Swallows and Swifts and generally dovewings, but without any ambiguous deviations and not compromised by dubious racial and tribal indecency. The integrity of my genesis is evident in my exemplarily perfect skull.

“Isn’t it perfect for me?” – the Lying Stone swelled. – I have such a unique past that all of you, recognizing it, will be pumped! To begin with, in the ancient Stone Age, Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons took me hunting! Which of you leads your reckoning from stone axes and stone knives? And I participated in the assassination attempts on mammoths and ichthyosaurs! And pterodactyls. True, at that time I was beautiful. Smooth and round. Ah, youth, youth…

And the Lying Stone told a sentimental, and with separate inclusions a claw-tearing, sharply injuring ins and outs:

– I was shiny and accumulated heat and cold. I didn’t have a wrinkle or crack! The surrounding rivers dried up for me, each wanted to lure me into their bosom. They dried properly, because I was dry too … Well, just like Grated Kalach. I owe my untarnished reputation to the fact that water does not flow under lying water. And I kept my unique reputation. And lay as if rooted to the spot. But one day a suitable party turned up. Spit. Sharply honed, steel, hardness to match me. Ah, how sharp she was! She shaved her boyfriends right and left. Shredded the stems of the clinging Hogweed and the omnivorous Horse Sorrel, I apologize to the Workhorse for the irreverent review of her distant brother-in-law. In armfuls, sheaves, stings of ears of corn and grass-ant! And laid in even rows to dry. On this we agreed. In adherence to the extreme dryness. In opposition to dampness, otherwise the Scythe could rust. But two solid characters, two inflexible natures rarely converge passionately and coexist smoothly. As they say, she found the Scythe on the Stone … At first she stumbled on me and about me: I turned out to be unsurpassed compared to her other boyfriends and suitors. Then the second time she stumbled on me when she wanted to shred me and grind me according to her stencil. It wasn’t there! Attacked the wrong one. Received a rebuff. I was too tough for her. It’s good that I haven’t broken off and blunted it to complete shambling unsuitability. For example: I brought the Lathe, which encroached on my original self-identity, to the handle, to extreme disability! But I still inflicted non-healing notches on her. Let him remember! We parted amicably. Like warships, battleships and aircraft carriers at sea. But I lost my head because of her, as they say, my roof was blown off and my soul became empty after her mooring, I was ready to violate the code of inviolability of the natural soil layer and the routine of my personal non-futile being, to break loose, to roll after her … Sausage on Malaya Spasskaya. At least to the end of the world … In this case, mosses and lichens would suffer, a beautiful wreath, such a patterned tattoo overshadowed my outstanding bright brow. I could not commit treason towards them. On the other hand, I repent and admit my staleness, mossiness, narrow-mindedness, obstinacy and laziness: I was precisely a couch potato, that is, a quitter. And I sincerely thought: here’s another thing – tossing and turning from side to side or throwing myself into a pool of passion … And drown, disappear in it … There was a hunt! Yes, I was to the marrow of my bones, although there are no bones in me, and there is an overabundance of brains, I was truly a narcissist. In your self-image. A flower with petals of delicate eyelashes… Now I regret that I didn’t fall into madness. Left alone, clumsy, forlorn, cracked, useless. Yet, when events, fresh news flows wash over, life is more interesting. Yes, and lost its former flawless ideal form. No slimness, smartness, a solid belly, a flint bag … In addition, the rains pouring from above … Acid rain. Their drops sharpen my being… A scythe, if it weren’t so arrogant and touchy, could act as an umbrella, pull a rubberized cloth over its blunted sting and protect me… In general, to be absolutely honest, I had to run away from my familiar and well-groomed place in order to to be saved from the final destruction… Thank you for not abandoning us, for helping an inactive paraplegic, a well-deserved ruin…