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The 8th letter of Mizhappar of the short novel of Holder Volcano

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   The 8th letter of Mizhappar
  
  
   -Dear Mr. Sitmirat, early this morning, when I came to the headquarters office, a strange thing happened. That is, Qurumboy, looking at my tarpaulin boots, said:
   - I order, on behalf of the revolutionary Committee, to immediately take off your boots, fellow Mizhappar!
   - Why, Comrade camindon? Did a Scorpion or a spider (black widow) get into my boots? - I was surprised.
   - Put it down, comrade! Don't ask stupid questions! The commander's order is not negotiable! Revolution on the verge of disaster! - Qurumboy shouted.
   I had to remove my boots. Qurumboy took them off with a screwdriver pulled out of the sole.
   - Comrade camindon these boots are my only shoes! What is this vandalism?! - I asked in surprise.
   - Comrade, Mizhhappar, remember once and for all-secret agents of the special services can install a listening device in the form of small microphone chips in the soles of our boots. For this reason, we, and our loved ones should immediately to tear off the heels from their boots - said Qurumboy, giving me my boots back. Now we have boots without heels. Yuldashvoy and Mamadiar too.
   - I think they've installed their listening devices in my house, too. So, today we have to do operation "cleansing" in my house. Forward, comrades! - said Qurumboy.
   We dutifully followed the comrade commander. What to do? We're soldiers. And the soldiers must obey their commanders, unquestioningly carrying out their orders.
   We go, one day on the street and see the guys near the school, who were returning home. There's one boy, the nephew of Qurumboy named Tuqumboy, ran to say Hello to his nephew. He immediately stopped him:
   - Stay where you are and don't move! - he said in a loud voice. Tuqumboy afraid, is poor, as soldier stepped on an anti-tank land mine in the hot spot of the planet, weight pale.
   - Come on, take off your shoes and throw them to me! - said Qurumboy. His nephew, not understanding what was happening, removed his shoes and gave it to his uncle. Qurumboy took the shoes and with a screwdriver and removed the sole. Then put the shoes back. Seeing this, the crowd of students laughed, some of them with astonishment, with fear and watched the strange process. Qurumboy again ordered his nephew to give him his backpack. He gave his uncle, who ripped the bag to shreds with his rusty dagger.
   -Uncle! Don't! What're you doing?! - exclaimed Tuqumboy.
   - I should check set whether the intelligence agencies are in your backpack! - Qurumboy, continuing to tear the backpack of Tuqumboy. Tuqumboy cried. Seeing this, comarades and classmates fearing , the students fled. Then we went in the direction of Lattaqishlaq, where he lived as Qurumboy. Seeing us, the mother of Qurumboy was happy. Qurumboy greeted her.
   - Are you alive my, son? Where did you go to? You've changed, grown a beard. Did you become a religious man? I guess you pray five times a day and you lose weight. Oh, was your father alive, he'd be happy to see your progress in the area of politics and religion - said the mother of Qurumboy, hugging his son.
   - Thank you Mom, for your kind words concerning my humble political activities. But, I'll tell you a secret, that my beard is not insisted, that is, from the skin of the dog, which we ate. Yes, you don't lose the gift of speech, we ate it not in raw, fried, and sometimes boiled. About religion, you're right, I've become a religious man. My faith is disbelief. My idols Charles Darwin Karl Marx and Vladimir Lenin! - said Qurumboy.
   Then he gave us an order that we would be armed with crowbars, axes, nail-makers and all sorts of other tools. We carried out his order and lined up in one line in anticipation of the further decree. Qurumboys picked up the hoe and ordered us to pull out the floors and ceilings of the rooms to check if there is somewhere an eavesdropping bug. We got to work, and Qurumboy, too. He began to hit with a hoe on the wall and from it the plaster began to crumble to the floor. Seeing this, the mother of Qurumboy asked in disbelief:
   - What you doing?! What else has crossed your mind! Wait! Qurumboy, son, what's wrong?! Don't destroy it! Your late father would turn in his grave! Stop right now!- she begged.
   But we continued to work. Then the mother of Qurumboy began to call people to help.
   People, vigilantes! Help me! He is destroying my house! My son is out of his mind! she screamed.
   After hearing the plea of the poor mother, she went in the house owened by Shishrilda who works in the mosque.
   - What happened, why are you shouting for help? - he asked.
   The mother of Qurumboy cried even louder:
   - Oh Mullah Shishrilda, God himself must have sent help! My son and his accomplices are destroying the house! You're a Mullah, after all, maybe they'll listen to you. Talk to them, please - she said.
   Mullah Shishrilda went into the room where Qurumboy worked and said:
   - Hello, my son! Stop! Parents ' home for a man as a temple! Destroying the temple is considered a terrible sin! Come to your senses, my son! - said Shishrilda ibn Osrilda. Qurumboy suddenly attacked Mullah Shishrilda like a tiger that rushes at the deer and grabbed him by the throat with tenacious fingers. Mulla Shishrilda began to snore from suffocation. His mouth and eyes widened from the lack of air to an incredible size from fright.
   - Who are you?! Tell me, who sent you?! Who do you work for?! Who's your handler, you say, you bastard?! Or I'll rip your mangy beard off alive! Qurumboy, jerking the Mullah's beard. Here the Mullah lost his mustache with a beard. Qurumboy from fright temporarily released the throat of the Mullah, and he sat on his knees and began to beg:
   - Mr. Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy, don't kill me! For God's sake!I'll tell you. Yes, I really work closely with the internal Affairs bodies, informing them about the events in the Chapaev collective farm on a daily basis. I work as a set-up Mullah in a local mosque. What can I do about it? That's my credo, my business, you know?! I have a big family, that is, I have many wives. Their total number in my harem is fifteen beautiful and young women. If you let me live, I'll give you the most beautiful one! I swear! My wives are still very young, and they will be lost without me! The oldest wife was only sixteen. Let's make a deal! You let me go back home, and I in return will release your sins on all four sides! You will get, as they say, to Paradise without interrogations and examinations.
   At this time, a buzzing siren, with a car came which came from the mental hospital, and out of it came a team of doctors with nets in their hands, with which veterinarians catch stray dogs in landfills and in city alleys. Apparently, one of the villagers managed to call a mental hospital. But Qurumboy immediately took Mullah Shishrilda hostage and began to dictate his terms. In case of failure to comply with his requirements, he threatened to kill the fake Mullah of the local mosque, sacrificing him to the birthday of his idol, Satan.
   Then the doctors quietly loaded the gun with a silencer, and shot Qurumboy using a bullet with a tranquilizer. Qurumboy managed not to kill Mullah Shishrilda ibn Osrilda, and in a few minutes fell with a clatter on the floor. After that, he calmly picked it up, put on a stretcher and pushed the stretcher along with Qurumboy in the carriage. And we, pretending to be a victim, remained at large.
   The next day, we, that is, Yuldashvoy, Mamadiyar and I, cooked a therapeutic soup from a dog for our sick man, who was taken to the hospital. Then poured the soup into a thermos and went to the city to visit the permanent and valiant leader of our party, Commissioner Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy.
   When I saw the mental hospital, my jaw dropped in surprise. Around the huge trees, all shady and cool, clean benches, especially the track, which is buried in the greenery and thickets of colorful marvelous white roses. There is peace and quiet around like a resort. From the Windows of the medical corps of smile politely sick in the striped pajamas. We saw, our friend and Director of our party Qurumboy engaged in whitewashing of trees in lime, with the help of a broom. He was dressed, like other patients, in striped pajamas without buttons, on his feet he had boots with cut off tops. On his head he slapped a paper hat made from the newspaper " Yosh leninchi " Near him stood a doctor in a white coat. When we came up and said Hello, Qurumboy didn't recognize us. Just looking at the thermos of medicinal soup, asked a strange question.
   - Tell me, friend, what is the weight of this your thermos? Hearing this, we cried. Fate, huh? Such a wise and intelligent man...
   - Eh... I thought.
   Then the doctor got mad at Qurumboy and hit him on the head with a wooden sledgehammer. The result is a paper hat of Qurumboy flew off, revealing his tonsured head like a badly mow field of rye. Seeing this, we cried in chorus. It turns out the most important thing in a person is health.
  
   With great respect, guard of Qurumboy martial artist Mizhappar.
  
  
   March 30, 2008, 12 hours and 30 minutes at night.
  
  
  
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