“Papa Carlo is provided to the lonely” Daria Kalinina. Papa Carlo is provided to the lonely About the book “Papa Carlo is provided to the lonely” Daria Kalinina

Uncle Seva stood at his work table, fitting a new coil to his detector. Until recently, he had three reels in total. One - the largest - was intended for searching in an open field, where finds, if any, lay at a decent distance from one another. The middle coil was taken for work at the sites of former markets or fairs, where there could be three or even more targets in fifty square centimeters. And finally, Uncle Seva took the smallest one to work in what he called heavily littered places - residential buildings, attics and the like. There, on one spot, everything could be strewn with various valuable, in Uncle Seva’s opinion, things. And in the eyes of others, it’s pure rubbish.

Alina’s father glanced at the guys over his glasses and commented:

– Our heroes are back! How do you feel?

- Wonderful! Uncle Seva, can you give us a magnifying glass?

- Yes. Magnifier, magnifying glass. Give me please.

“Lupu, say,” Uncle Seva muttered thoughtfully, so it was not clear whether he would give or not. – Why did you need a magnifying glass?

- So... There is one thing.

– We want to look at the mark.

- Brand, you say. And what is this brand?

Uncle Seva kept procrastinating, stalling for time, clearly trying to satisfy his curiosity and find out more information from his friends. Friends saw no reason to hide their discovery.

And Kostya explained:

– We want to look at the mark on one thing that we found in the forest.

Now Uncle Seva looked at them much more carefully. And something akin to admiration with a slight admixture of envy seemed to flash in his eyes.

“Found it, tell me,” he said. – So they took it and, without any equipment, found a thing with a mark? But I haven’t come across anything worthwhile for many days in a row! All “advice”, and already late. Look, look.

And he pointed to a half-liter glass jar filled with small yellow change. All coins had the coat of arms of the USSR, a wreath entwined with ribbons with the names of the union republics. Azerbaijan SSR, Armenian SSR, Belorussian SSR, Georgian SSR. Where are all these republics now? There are none. But the coins that were minted in those years have survived. There they are, lying in a jar. They testify.

- Uncle Seva, why do you need them?

“Maybe my grandchildren will find it useful.” Now too few years have passed for this little thing to have any value. But in fifty years it is quite possible that they will be good for something.

- Uncle Seva, what about the magnifying glass? Will you give it to us?

– What kind of magnifying glass do you need? With strong magnification or so?

- Let's go strong.

– I have one magnifying glass, a good thing. With backlight. Shall I give you this?

- Yes Yes! Let's!

“It’s a great thing, I always carry it with me.”

And Uncle Seva began to slap his pockets. His friends watched him with anticipation. Uncle Seva patted himself from head to toe and seemed confused. Then he slapped his forehead and exclaimed:

- So she still had her jacket on. Alina, bring my jacket. It hangs in the hallway.

Alina went and returned to say that there was no jacket in the hallway.

“Mom probably took it,” Uncle Seva summed up without losing his calm. - Go ask her.

Alina left again.

Then she came back and said:

“Mom says she threw your jacket in the wash.” She says that you yourself told her to do this.

Uncle Seva thought about it.

– Yes, that’s right, the jacket was very dirty. I asked her to wash it. But before that, I cleaned out my pockets and put everything out of them... Where did I put everything out?

The search began for that box or drawer that contained all the other little things that had been taken out of the jacket pockets. For this purpose, a great many shelves, boxes and drawers were examined. Finally, Alina, who knew her dad’s habits well, brought his backpack, in which there was a bag in which lay a purse, in which there was a bundle, where all the small things from the pockets of his jacket were neatly wrapped and folded. Among other junk, there was also a small folding magnifying glass equipped with a built-in flashlight, which, despite its miniature size, burned very brightly.

- So, post your find.

Uncle Seva never let go of the magnifying glass itself. It was clear that the curious Uncle Seva would never refuse the chance to look at someone else’s find. And although the guys would like to look at the mark themselves first, they realized that Uncle Seva would not give them such an opportunity. And with a sigh, they still laid out the found piece of iron. Okay, let Uncle Seva look first. It won't be enough for them.

- Yeah! – Uncle Seva instantly perked up at the sight of the guys’ discovery. - Interesting thing! Produced in the town of Solingen, there was a German company that was very famous, especially before the war. In general, until the eighties of the last century, knives and scissors made in the city of Solingen were extremely popular. Then, in order to optimize, production was gradually transferred to China, and this greatly affected the quality of the manufactured products. Demand for it fell, and since the fourteenth year, as far as I heard, the Solingen brand no longer exists.

- But this thing was made recently?

– I would say a very long time ago. She looks so... fighting. The metal is all chipped; it had clearly not been treated very well before, and was not taken care of at all. And the mark... I think that the original product was made at the end of the nineteenth or the very beginning of the twentieth century.

Wow! Even before the revolution.

-Where did you find this thing? – Uncle Seva was curious.

- In the forest.

- Just in the forest?

- Yes, one step from the place where the Baron fell.

- Hmm, interesting.

And Uncle Seva began to move his long nose over the metal pin.

“And they did some great magic on this piece of metal.” Before it was something completely different.

- Hard to say. In addition to knives, this company also produced scissors, straight razors and other sharp and cutting objects. In general, the town of Solingen is known as, say, our Chrysostom and his knife makers. Solingen is a whole diaspora of eminent craftsmen who have been working with steel smelted in Germany for many hundreds of years. Many of the industries that existed in Solingen also made locks, keys, irons, spoons, forks, tweezers and the like. I can’t say what kind of instrument this is now in front of us. But it seems to me that it was re-sharpened from something else. Perhaps from a chisel or spoon.

- From a chisel? – Vovan perked up when he heard the familiar word. “Then you need to ask Victor.” He has these chisels... Whole mountains!

– Is Victor the owner of the missing dog? And does he have a lot of chisels?

- Mountains. Variety!

- Yes, ask him, maybe he’ll tell you something. But this thing is interesting. I can’t even immediately guess what it was used for.

- Could they have wounded the Baron with it?

– But purely theoretically, they could use this thing as a weapon?

Uncle Seva launched into such long and tedious discussions that the friends were only glad when Alina suddenly exclaimed:

- And here is Victor himself!

And indeed, Victor was approaching them with a quick gait. He looked excited and joyful at the same time. He embraced Vovan and Kostyan and whispered:

- The Baron is all right!

- Is he with you?

- He's already home. He was given first aid and returned to me.

- But did the doctors explain what could have happened to him?

Victor became gloomy. And then he said briefly:

- Firearm.

– You said so right away.

- Yes, but I hoped I was wrong. But, alas, no error. Baron has two wounds, both from bullets.

The friends were silent. It’s clear to a fool that if there’s a gunshot, it means it definitely couldn’t have happened without human participation.

“I ran into hunters,” Vovan said sympathetically. - They probably mistook him for a wolf.

– Baron doesn’t look like a wolf!

“They’ll start looking into it.”

Victor continued:

- We were lucky. One of the bullets got stuck in the soft tissue of Baron's forearm. And they gave it to me. And do you know what I'll tell you? This bullet is unlike any I have ever seen from hunters or used myself. And I've seen everything.

Uncle Seva became interested again.

- Do you have this bullet?

- They returned it to me.

-Can I take a look?

- Please.

Uncle Seva began to move his long nose over the bullet taken from the Baron’s body. I got carried away and forgot about everything in the world. And the guys showed the artist a strange-looking sharpener they found in the forest. Victor examined the metal rod very carefully, twirled it in his hands for a long time and clarified several times exactly where the guys found it.

– Do you know what this is? – Kostya asked him.

After a moment's pause, Victor shook his head. And then he politely turned to Uncle Seva, who still could not part with the bullet.

- Can I get it back?

Uncle Seva still gave the bullet to the owner, but he first measured it and even took a print on the plasticine. It was clear that he really didn’t want to part with this find. But a strange metal rod remained in his hands, which he promised to return to the guys. Uncle Seva consoled himself with them.

“Come back in the morning for your find,” he told the guys. “I’ll mess around with her a little more.” This blade has a very interesting shape. She reminds me of something, but I don’t understand what. Therefore, I want to delve into the specialized literature. I'll return your find to you tomorrow, don't worry.

And Uncle Seva clutched the strange piece of iron so tightly that it was clear that he would not give it back kindly. And you can’t tear it out by force either. There will be resistance.

Kostya’s neighbor, Aunt Natasha, was visiting Kostya’s house. Or rather, not from him, but from Aunt Tanya, with whom this neighbor was friends. She was a single woman, did not create her own family, but at the same time she had unspent potential for health and energy and, at the slightest opportunity, she actively participated in the lives of all her neighbors. The grandmother did not love her, she believed that it was her friend’s fault that her daughter was also left without a husband.

“Natasha got you hooked on all sorts of dances and partying from a young age.” That’s how you both squandered your youth at the dances. Even though you have Kostya and I, you won’t be alone in your old age. And Natasha? Who will look after her in her old age? Who needs it? Oh, my heart hurts for her. Your girlfriend will end up in a nursing home, no less.

But the grandmother looked something very far into the future. So far, Aunt Natasha was a magnificent and blooming forty-five-year-old woman who did not even think about her own old age, but was thinking about how she could once again acquire a gentleman.

Kostya was not at all happy about this guest. Aunt Natasha had one unpleasant feature: when she spoke, no one else was able to insert a word into her conversation. And since Aunt Natasha spoke constantly, the others were forced to remain silent and only listen to Aunt Natasha. But not everyone will like this form of communication.

And now Aunt Natasha was chattering incessantly.

“And so I’m walking along the shore and I see these two. Such well-fed, handsome men, both with beards, but not unshaven or just stubble, but well-groomed ones with such beards. One has smooth hair, the other has slightly curled rings. Oh, I thought it was beautiful. And both of them have such smooth and white faces, and a blush all over their cheeks, as they used to say, like blood and milk!

At first Kostya was afraid that Aunt Natasha would again talk about her success with men at sea. She just returned from some seaside resort a month ago, bringing with her a whole carriage and a small cart of impressions. Kostya didn’t even want to count how many affairs she started there. Although the grandmother had already sarcastically noted several times that all these novels remained there, on the seashore, Natasha never brought a single gentleman here. But Aunt Natasha had one more ability: not to pay attention to those things that did not suit her. So she turned a deaf ear to her grandmother’s words and continued to chatter about her lovers.

“The sun is shining in my face,” Aunt Natasha continued to say. “I can’t really look at them, I just notice that their clothes are somehow special.” These sweatshirts have long sleeves. The trousers are the same cut. And the main thing is that the hair is long and the beards are smooth and beautiful. And plus they both have the same bellies. You know how much I love fat people. I don’t feel like myself when I see a man in his body. The best thing for me is when a man has a paunch. And I don’t care what nutritionists say, I only need a voluminous man. You can always warm yourself up next to it.

“Buy yourself a blanket,” muttered the grandmother. - It'll warm you up better.

But Aunt Natasha continued to stick to her line, not listening to anyone.

“If a man has a body, that means he has something in his wallet.”

- Skinny people can be very rich too.

– If a rich man is skinny, that means he is greedy! - Aunt Natasha snapped. - But I don’t need that! And next to the fat one, there will always be a couple of tiny ones for me. He will begin to cover himself like a clearing, and I will also find something to pinch.

- Eat it, or what?

Aunt Natasha always loved to eat delicious food. And now she was devouring cabbage pies one after another, not paying attention to the disapproving glances of her grandmother, who baked these pies for her beloved grandson, and not at all for her impudent neighbor. But to spoil Aunt Natasha’s appetite, a stronger remedy was needed than just looks.

Seeing Kostya, the grandmother was delighted. She quickly snatched the plate from Aunt Natasha, on which the surviving pies lay, and moved them closer to her grandson.

- Eat, Kostenka. Maybe I should pour you some milk?

Before Kostya had time to nod, Aunt Natasha had already responded to the proposal.

- Do you have milk too? – she perked up. - Why didn’t you offer it to me right away? I love milk very much. Pour me a glass quickly! Yes, more.

Grandma swore, but poured milk. In a glass and in a large mug. She didn’t fill the glass too much, and grandma was about to push the mug towards Kostya. But Aunt Natasha turned out to be quicker.

- Thank you! - she exclaimed.

And the neighbor snatched the mug almost from the hands of the dumbfounded grandmother and began to greedily drink in large sips the thick white liquid with a slightly slight yellow tint. Grandmother took milk from a cow, it was real, fatty and very tasty. The grandmother looked at her grandson in confusion. He got very little milk.

And Kostya hastened to reassure her:

“Grandma, I don’t want a lot of milk anyway, it makes my stomach hurt later.” This will be plenty for me too.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll drink yours too,” Aunt Natasha said and even stretched her hand.

But grandmother was now on her guard. She slapped her neighbor on the hand and exclaimed:

- And where do you get so much into it? I crushed a whole tray of pies into one mug! And I poured almost a liter of milk into myself! You'll burst someday, Natasha! Mark my words! You'll burst and splash your next guy!

- Nope, I won’t burst.

After eating and drinking, the neighbor became completely cheerful.

“So tell me, should I go on the date that the priest invited me to, or should I not?”

-Who invited you? - Grandma was amazed. - And where?

– So I say, I’m walking along the shore of the lake, I’m wearing my little blue sundress, which I brought from Bulgaria.

- This is the one in which all your tits are out?

- Aunt Tanya, it’s fashionable.

– The one you can’t sit in? Is your butt cracking?

– The fabric needs to fit tightly around the whole body, only then it will be beautiful.

– Maybe when the figure is girlish, then it’s beautiful. And you, Natasha, have continuous folds. You look like a sausage in that sundress of yours. Especially when your back is turned. You've got ham there!

Kostya giggled. On the back of Aunt Natasha’s favorite sundress there was a lacing, with which she mercilessly pulled herself together. Maybe in the front there was some slimming effect from such lacing, but in the back all the pinched and squeezed fat protruded from under the lacing, and Aunt Natasha looked like a ham in a fishnet.

“I didn’t turn my back to them,” Aunt Natasha unexpectedly calmly responded to the criticism. - And in general, if you want to know, I had a shawl at the back. But when these two saw me, their eyes widened at me and they started vying with each other to ask me out on a date.

- What? Both right?

- Both! One is older, about my age. And the second one is generally a brat, about twenty-five to twenty-seven years old. He tried to hold my hand. Come, he says, this evening. We're celebrating. I dream of seeing you next to me on this holiday. I think it's fate. And that means he holds my hand, sighs and looks at me so significantly. You, too, are women, I suppose you understand how a man can look at the woman he likes.

- Can't be! – Grandmother and Tanya exclaimed simultaneously.

- I won’t leave this place if I’m lying!

But all three - grandmother, Kostya and his aunt - looked at Aunt Natasha equally incredulously. Aunt Natasha also had a third characteristic. She loved, no, not to lie, but so... you know, to embellish reality somewhat. Maybe the man really accidentally touched her hand, and Aunt Natasha had already invented his languid sighs and his look with meaning.

“I feel like I’ve fallen into the heart of someone younger.” That's good. I liked him better too. I love young people. Do you know at what age priests are allowed to marry?

- Where did you get the idea that these were priests?

- Who then? Fat, bearded. And they say how! Ordinary men would never say that! They are from Slavyansk. They will have a holiday there.

It took thirty to forty minutes to get to Slavyansk. But this is if by car. And it was quite a long walk there.

Grandmother sighed:

– For some reason, the priests have started visiting us in Bobrovka more often.

- Where is this? - Grandma was surprised. - In what place?

- In the center, where else?

– Where is our center?

Bobrovka actually stretched in one long line along the bank of the Zaitsa River.

“Or maybe they’ll put it on the shore.” A chapel on the shore would look good, or even a small church.

“And you could open a candle shop next to the church,” the grandmother perked up. – I would go to work there. Whatever it is, it’s all extra money for retirement. And again, a godly deed.

Aunt Natasha winked at her cheerfully:

“Don’t be afraid, Aunt Tanya, I’ll become a priest and put in a good word for you.” Your husband will take you to sell candles.

“Yes, only with your prayers,” the grandmother responded sarcastically. “I can’t manage anything on my own.”

- Otherwise! The priests, too, probably distribute all the grain and warm places among their own. If you don’t have a patron among them, then there’s no point in you even thinking about squeezing into a candle shop. But don’t worry, Aunt Tanya, I’ll definitely plead with my husband for you. Remember my kindness.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Natasha,” the grandmother responded even more sarcastically. - Such kindness that it’s impossible to say.

But Aunt Natasha did not perceive anything bad or malicious addressed to her. This was her fourth feature.

And she confirmed with great enthusiasm:

- I have a good heart. And in general, I am a golden woman. One thing I don’t understand is why no one gets married?

– Maybe because you don’t know how to cook at all?

- I can! – Aunt Natasha brushed aside this remark. - What can you do there? Nowadays there is a lot of everything in stores. Take it, heat it and eat it.

– A man can heat up semi-finished products for himself in the stove. And you would make him some borscht soup, some homemade cutlets, some cherry compote, some from cranberries. You look, the man would warm up to you. Guys, they are mostly used to thinking with their stomachs.

- Ugh! – the interlocutor wrinkled her nose. - Cutlets! Borsch! They also added some kind of compote, made from cranberries. What am I, in the dining room? Boring!

“That’s why I give you all the fun, and you’re all alone.”

- It's not for long. Today I’ll go to the holiday, and there I’ll get to know my gentleman well. I feel like this one will never leave me. Mine will be.

– You always say that, but what actually happens? Zilch! Shooting with blanks. No, Natalya, mark my words! Until you learn to bake pies, you will never see a good husband.

- Leave me alone with your pies, Aunt Tanya! Why are you all pies and pies? You might think your husband loved you for your pies.

- No, not for mine.

- You see!

“At that time,” my grandmother continued calmly, “my mother cooked for us.” She also baked pies. Oh, and she was a craftswoman. The dough is like fluff. The filling is finger licking good. Why are they delicious, but her pies were three times more delicious. It’s my husband’s mother-in-law’s pies that he fell in love with. Then I learned to cook. My mother told me in plain text: “That’s it, Tanya, I’m getting weaker, my eyes can’t see anymore, my hands don’t work, I’m going to die soon. While still in your mind, memorize the recipes and take over the farming from me. Otherwise, when I die, you won’t see the man. Those who are quicker than you will take him out of the yard.” I listened to my mother’s advice, and my husband remained with me until his death. I never even looked in the other direction.

“It’s too late for me to learn cooking.”

– It’s never too late and never too early. Listen to me, Natasha, I want the best for you. Learn to cook. Don’t just come here every day to crack pies, but come to learn. Let's put the dough together, knead the dough together, and prepare the filling together. So you will learn to bake pies as good as mine.

But Aunt Natasha became noticeably bored with her grandmother’s teachings.

- No, I don’t want that. If I’m going to get married, then it’s imperative that I have a servant who will knead, bake, wash, and clean for me.

- So you're aiming for a rich man?

- And if not, then why get married? What's the point of getting involved with the poor? To spend the rest of your life at the stove? No, I don't want that.

- As you wish.

The grandmother was also starting to get tired of the empty conversation with her daughter’s friend. And there were almost no pies left to guard for the grandson. And the grandmother went to her room, leaving the women alone with Kostya. This is where his finest hour came. He described their adventures today in vivid colors. And he stared at the women, expecting praise.

But instead I heard from my aunt:

“That’s it, Kostya, I’ve made it!” You will adopt the puppies from Lushka yourself. You have to think about it - slip it to this Baron!

– Aunt Tanya, does it matter who the puppies come from? As if you and your grandmother don’t know it yourself, no matter how much you hide Lusha, she will still find herself a dog. Baron is not the worst option yet. A purebred dog. And with the owner. In any case, we will give this artist a home for one puppy. And if you're lucky, so will everyone. Victor loves dogs. He cuts them out of wood, and draws them, and...

– Is this Victor married? - Aunt Natasha interrupted him.

- Yes. His wife is Nata. She is so beautiful and...

But Aunt Natasha, having heard that the artist had a wife, had already lost interest in Kostya’s story.

“Tanya, Tanya,” she teased her friend. - Talk to me, will you come with me?

- Yes, for this holiday! What have I been telling you for an hour?

- Go alone. You were invited, not me.

– I’m uncomfortable alone. There seem to be two of them, and I’m the only one who will show up. How so?

“There will probably be a lot of other people there.” You'll get lost.

But Aunt Natasha had such an opinion of herself that it would be difficult to get lost in the crowd with her expressive appearance. And that’s to say that Aunt Natasha was a grenadier’s height. There were such regiments in the tsarist army, where they took the tallest and physically strongest youths and young men. They would definitely take Aunt Natasha there. And Aunt Natasha had the appropriate build. And if you add her passion for brightly painted fabrics - today, for example, she was wearing a bright red dress, decorated with huge white and blue fantastically shaped flowers, and long blond hair, raised and secured on the top of her head in the form of a tower and pinned with a huge scarlet hairpin in the form of a peony - it turned out that Aunt Natasha would never be able to get lost.

Singles are provided with Papa Carlo Daria Kalinina

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Title: Papa Carlo is provided to the lonely

About the book “Papa Carlo is provided to the lonely” Daria Kalinina

It's time, girls, to take fate into your own hands. No men around? This can’t be true, you just didn’t look right! Tanya found a way out - she looked for a carpentry workshop in her village, and in it there was a real dad, Carlo, who would make any groom for a sweet soul. And he’s handsome, and he’s handsome, and he’s a choice piece of wood, and he’s silent - he doesn’t get on your nerves. And that life must be breathed into it, so what Russian woman will not humanize a log if she loves with all her heart?..

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There was a cute house at the edge of the forest. Against the background of centuries-old trees, it seemed small, but this was an optical illusion. The house was spacious and was built, as they say, “for oneself,” thoroughly and soundly. Its log walls, made of thick pine trunks, had not yet had time to darken with time. The walls stood strong and level, showing that they could serve as reliable protection both from natural disasters and from life’s troubles.

The lower crowns of the log house reliably supported the weight of all the buildings, and the foundation made of red bricks indicated that the people living here were wealthy, who did not mind bricks for their whims. In general, there was a lot of red in this house. A high porch decorated with wooden lace led to a door painted in an elegant red color, also decorated with intricate carvings along the entire perimeter. The handle was wooden, carved in the shape of a dog's head with shiny, expressive beady eyes. The windows with wooden shutters decorated with colorful paintings - funny horses, birds and charioteers, as well as many, many flowers - were also predominantly made in red.

The shingled roof added color to this house. Wooden plates, planed from aspen, were tightly fitted to one another. In damp, humid weather, the wood swelled, which prevented any possibility of the roof leaking. Once upon a time, shingle roofs were commonplace. But then times changed. And such roofs have not been made for many decades. First of all, it's troublesome. And secondly, shingles, which are cheap but require maintenance and frequent replacement of damaged tiles, have been replaced by modern roofing materials that are more convenient to use: slate, iron, tiles.

It was all the more surprising to see shingles on this not at all poor house. Moreover, the roof did not even have time to grow moss, which means that the current covering was made recently, and not a hundred years ago, when this material was still used everywhere. And the house itself looked as if it had been put here at most a few years ago. And so it was.

And with all its pomp and elegance, this house looked so sweet and welcoming that everyone who passed by had a desire to look into its owners. Surely these must have been very pleasant and nice people. Only such people could live in the wonderful toy house. But behind the tightly closed shutters it was impossible to see any movement. The courtyard was empty and quiet. The whole house seemed immersed in a sleepy stupor.

And yet someone lived here. In the center of the yard slept a huge shaggy dog ​​- a faithful watchman. Near the well there was a full bucket of water, which someone had pulled out. Chickens that someone had released were walking near the chicken coop. The paths to the house and outbuildings were trampled in thick grass. And even in the weeds a piglet, or even several, grunted. But the owners themselves were not visible.

Despite the fact that the house appeared three years ago, none of the local residents have seen its owners until now. They did not come to Bobrovka even to make purchases in the local store, which gave rise to numerous rumors and gossip.

“I’m telling you, a man lives there, a hunter-trade,” said Uncle Petya, an old resident of the village of Bobrovka, who descended from the first Bobrovka residents who settled in these places two hundred years ago. - He gets animals and fish, and that’s what he lives on.

It's painfully luxurious to live. Look what a rich house he built for himself. The whole estate! Isn't it too fat for a simple hunter?

And he makes stuffed animals. Don't believe me? But I myself saw how a huge stuffed bear was being transported from him on the road on an open platform to Slavyansk. The animal stood on its hind legs, with either a hunting husky or a wolf in its teeth, I couldn’t see it from a distance. And what a huge bear he was! Two human heights, or even three! Such a beast could not fit into any covered car; we had to transport it in an open truck.

And what? Just think, a scarecrow!

Do you even know how much it costs to buy a stuffed real wolf these days? - Uncle Petya was indignant. - And the bear skin? Do not know? Then keep quiet. I was in Moscow, went into a store, saw a similar scarecrow, and the numbers just flashed in my eyes. You can buy a house with this money. Yes, not here, but in Moscow!

You bent it.

Okay, in the Moscow region. Such a scarecrow cost six million! Beautifully done, nothing to say. Polished stand, all carved. Bronze plates. Yes, not some kind of stamping, but casting.

And who needs this?

Rich people set up hunting lodges for themselves. The offices are decorated. In a word, they throw dust in each other's eyes.

Why is this hunter of yours never seen?

So he disappears in the forest all day long, beating animals.

Does he live alone?

Why one? A person cannot do it alone. Lives with grandma.

Where is his grandmother hiding?

And his woman and her husband go to the forest.

All day long?

The listeners did not hide their malice. But Uncle Petya didn’t care at all.

Yes! - he asserted importantly. - Such people. Early in the morning they let the cattle and poultry out into the yard, and they roam around the forest from dawn to dusk. They have a dog on guard. He won’t let anyone near the owner’s goods.

How come no one sees them in the village? And they don’t come to our store.

Why do they need it? They do not accept the products of civilization. Tea is brewed from leaves and twigs. They have vegetables in the garden. Coffee made from acorns and roasted roots, collected in the forest. Instead of sugar, honey is used.

So they have an apiary? Where are the hives?

They have an apiary in the forest.

Like this?

Have you ever heard of forest bees that build honeycombs in hollows? That's where people get honey.

What about toothpaste, soap, shampoo?

And they don’t need this,” Uncle Petya continued to tell tales. - Nature supplies everything to them. Instead of paste - chalk. And my grandmother washed all of us children’s hair on Saturdays with water infused with ash, and rinsed the floors in the hut, and rinsed our linen in the same lye. And we never walked around dirty with her.

You, Uncle Petya, tell it as if you saw everything with your own eyes.

How do you know whether I saw it or not?

But Uncle Petya was a famous storyteller. Even a simple trip to buy bread in a village store was filled with such picturesque details that there was no way to believe him now.

If you tell me, Peter, then stand or fall.

Why should you fall? I say what I know.

You say that as if you were shaking hands with this forest man and woman.

And I saw the program on TV.

About them, or what?

Not exactly about them, but it seems. And I’ll tell you this, these people are hiding from the world, looking for unity with nature. That’s why they don’t make close acquaintances with their neighbors, they know that we will all die, but they will survive.

From such predictions of Uncle Petya, the neighbors completely opened their mouths.

How are we going to die?! - the portly Aunt Tonya, nicknamed Your Division, was indignant, who, due to her impressive build and explosive temperament, there were few people willing to contradict. - Why are we going to die? I don’t agree to die!

And so we will die! As soon as a big war begins, all currently existing life support systems will collapse. He will bury everyone under him. Those who depend on the benefits of civilization will all die or suffer greatly. The end of the world will least of all affect those who are accustomed to living by the forest and its gifts. They are the only ones actually on the ground and will survive.

“Wow,” the villagers laughed. - You, Uncle Petya, where have you gone! You got carried away. I even remembered the Apocalypse.

It’s a shame that your son from the city secured a satellite dish for you. She makes you crazy.

Whoa! Previously, your TV showed five channels, but now there are one hundred and five, you stare at the box all day long, and that’s what makes you sick.

Be careful not to be the first to give up along with civilization. If everything disappears, your plate will stop cooking! How will you live without your cable channels? You'll die.

But, despite the ridicule of fellow villagers, no one could offer a more sensible version than Uncle Petina. And the identities of the mysterious neighbors who settled in the house on the edge of the forest continued to arouse curiosity among all residents of Bobrovka.

Is there really a hunter there?

It must be said that Uncle Petya’s version had its own rational grain. The areas around the village are rich in game. The wild beast has multiplied in recent years, when no one touched it. There were no hunters in the village today. The people gathered were all peaceful, and they didn’t even consider game as food. The meat is tough and often smells like pine or mud. There's a lot of fuss with it, but little taste.

There were no such gourmets in the village to dry killed partridges and wood grouse in the sun. And why? It’s much easier to go to your poultry house and take a good fat chicken or a young rooster, turn your head and cook a rich, fragrant broth. And if it comes to big game, then there is no comparison at all between the tender domestic cattle and the tough meat of wild pigs or even elk - forest cows.

So it turned out that residents busy with their gardens and vegetable gardens did not visit forest lands very often. Perhaps during the season of picking mushrooms and berries, they went there, and even then they wandered more along the edges and clearings, and did not look further into the thicket. Why do they need to go deeper? What didn't they see there? There are a lot of berries and mushrooms on the edges. There would be a desire to grind down my legs and climb gullies.