Холдор Вулкан: другие произведения.

The fifth letter of Mizhappar

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  • Аннотация:
    In this my literary work I try to describe the difficult life of may poor compatriots in the past.(Holder Volcano)

  Holder Volcano
   The fifth letter of Mizhappar
   Hi, Mr.Sitmrat!
   "Half my mustache and about 60 percent of my curly hair burned down yesterday. It's my own fault for that. I wanted to write you the following letter, but there was no light. In the dark is inconvenient to write. Let me think I'll light the kerosene lamp. I took a match and struck it. The kerosene lamp exploded. It turns out that my stepfather confused the fuel and mistakenly filled the lamp with gasoline. Barely put out the fire. Now, I write to you the letter and I'm afraid to look in the mirror. Because when I saw my face, my stepmother fainted. Poor.
   So I had to put on a mask cut out of cardboard and go to work, or cotton plantation, where I work, rolling barrels of pesticides, with these toxic chemicals in the cotton seed processing shop. I go, damn, my saliva is flowing and flowing, can not stop. She stuck to our gate made of tin from the casks in which to store pesticides, and never ceased to flow, stretching out like a sturdy string to the field camp where I went to work without protective clothing and without a respirator. I was scared, and after work went to the folk healer Gpreddin Kokyotal. Checking my pulse, he told me:
   - Do not worry, Mullah Mizhappar, the symptoms of Your illness, I have determined what the disease is. It turns out, we with you relatives - he said.
   -Yes You that, Mr.Gpreddin Kokyotal crazy, or what? What kind of relative am I? Look, we're not like each other at all. Your nose is like this one, eggplant, and your ears are too small, like a Jerboa. My head is spherical, and You face won some, asacia! - I said.
   - We are relatives through illness, Mullah Mizhappar said the folk healer Gpreddin Kokyotal, choking cough.
   - A-and-and, so would and said. And then I got scared - I said. The folk healer Gpreddin Kokyotal: -Our common disease of which we are proud, originates from daily malnutrition. Alas, our food in the cauldron is cooked on the water, that is, we do not eat hot food for months. Just tea and bread. Thanks for that - said the peoples healer Gpreddin Kokyotal, constantly coughing. He had a long and terrible cough, was completely blue from lack of oxygen. I'm choking red, too. Because, I, too, tried not to breathe, not to get national powwow of Gpreddin Kokyotal. It turns out that people without air, like a fish out of water. Like a scuba diver with an empty oxygen tank at the bottom of the Pacific ocean. I left the house national powwow of Gpreddin Kokyotal and went out in the yard, eagerly began to swallow portions of oxygen, filling the air with my empty lungs.
   I went outside, and there met Yuldashvoy with Mamadiar. From them I heard the latest news, which I want to share with you. Recently, well, just last week, beloved wife of Qurumboy sick. She complained of abdominal pain. Qurumboy ran to the village Council where a phone with a broken tube, one in the whole village, and they called in the ambulance. But the ambulance did not come because of the lack of gasoline. Then Qurumboy, he'd put his wife Qoryaxan on the bike and went to the hospital. While he was driving, he was sweating like a horse after the race. The thing is, there was an eight in the back wheel of the bike.
   The wife of Qurumboy doctors have long turns were examined behind a screen, then put it to the chamber office therapy. Looking from the window, Qurumboy told his wife that he would bring her a kettle, a bowl, and a bowl with a wooden spoon. After that Qurumboy went back home and brought to his beloved wife the necessary things that he promised. Tying chain his bike to a post, Qurumboy approached the window and asked the nurse on duty that she called Qoryaxan. The nurse said that Qoryaxan, that is the wife of Qurumboy, was transferred to the hospital... Qurumboy, of course, was surprised, and asked supposedly for what? Maybe the doctors mistook his wife for some other pregnant woman.
   "No," said the nurse on duty.
   - Our doctors are the best in the world. They are never wrong - she said proudly.
   Qurumboy immediately went to the side of the hospital, rattling things that were in the bag. As soon as he appeared near the window of the maternity Department, and immediately began to congratulate the nurse midwives:
   -Are you, Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezal Tappitutuniy ?! We thought so! What a happy man you are! Congratulations from the heart, you have become a father! Your wife gave birth to twins! They're both girls! Can you, give us gifts, happy father! Now! Where are the flowers and the champagne and the chocolate?! - fun shouted they.
   Hearing this, Qurumboy almost went crazy.
   - What are you talking about?! What twins?! I recently married, how can give birth to my wife in such a short period of time? She's not! What a joke! Is it funny?! - Qurumboy got angry.
   - We're not kidding, we're telling the real truth! If you don't believe me, we can call her to the window, and you'll see for yourself. Go over there, there's a microphone, and you can talk to your wife, " said one of the nurses.
   - Call-said Qurumboy and reluctantly approached the microphone.
   Ten minutes at the window appeared the wife of Qurumboy Qoryahan with a pale smile on his lips. Then through a megaphone began to speak:
   - Hello, my lovely huzband Qurumboy!..
   - Honey, is it true you gave birth?! - Qurumboy asked.
   - Yes, honey, it's true. Now we have two children! Twins! What happiness, my God! she smiled.
   - What kind of mess is that?! What are you saying ?! How dare you... After all, we got married recently. How could we have made it, anyway?! - Qurumboy.
   How do I know?! Maybe it's an abnormal phenomenon. Maybe it's a girl's miracle. We must not reject God's gift, Qurumboy? -said Qoryahan.
   - What?! God's gift? You leave the rest to God! That's impossible! I do not recognize these children, that is, they are not from me! What an abomination! Oh, what a shame! I trusted you! I loved you! What a fraud!.. I'd cut You with a gardening knife or a sickle, but I don't want to get my authority dirty! You don't deserve to be stabbed! From now on you are nothing to me! I will announce to you now "three talaq" according to Sharia law! Goodbye, Qoryagar... Forget about me forever, good bye... - said Qurumboy.
   - Qoryahan began to dance moving her huge her ass, singing a song :
   My husband told me to leave!
   I'll tell him:
   There will be a court, decision!
   You will be awarded child support!"
   Looking at Qoryahan, Qurumboys smiled angrily, then he spit through his teeth, walked away. But, Qoryah-han's mom, which is engaged in supplying a live product, that is, the girls in a far country, sued Qurumboy a lawsuit. She gave bribes to lawyers and doctors and got the conclusion it is judicial-medical examination which States that Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezal Tappitutuniy is the father of two girls, which Qoryahan gave birth to. The court rendered a verdict of double, leaving Qurumboy chance of selection. He had to choose whether to pay child support or serve time in prison with a lousy rape article. Qurumboy chose the first punishment, agreeing to pay child support.
   These extra costs have worsened the already meager family budget of Qurumboy. For this reason, he was simply forced to engage in the shadow business.
   One early morning when I was doing Kung Fu on the flat roof of our closet, he came and said:
   - Mizhappar, I decided to go into business. The pension my mother receives is not even enough to pay child support . So yesterday I signed a large, contractual agreement on the stand of high-quality aluminum to my business partners - he said, lighting his pipe clogged with sawdust.
   - Wow,where do you get high-quality aluminum? - I was surprised.
   - I'll go climb the iron poles that stand in the fields like the Eiffel tower on the banks of the Seine in Paris, and cut the wires with these gardening scissors. There's no electric current in those wires anyway. If someone asks, I will tell that a pier, update a line of electric wires, and I work in power networks.
   - And if they require an electrician's certificate? - I asked.
   - Then, I will show the certificate with a red cover which was given to me in crazy hospital when I was treated - Qurumboy told.
   - Oh, then you can. Just be careful not to climb too high. You might fall down... I don't want your little children to be orphans - I warned my friend.
   - Thanks, Mizhhappar - said Qurumboy and went in side field. Having had a hearty Breakfast with bread, I put on a padded jacket and went to work. On the way I saw my friends Mamadiar with Yuldashvoy. They painted, doing whitewashing the walls of the building of the collective farm with lime using brushes with long wooden cuttings. Both wore caps made of newspaper "Pravda Vostoka".
   - God help, guys! Well, well, congratulations. Finally, found a prestigious job - I said, greeting them.
   - Yeah, it's not a regular job. The party Committee promised half a liter of vodka. They say that Mr. President himself comes to our collective farm. Look, out, the teachers and the students are cleaning the ditches and cleaning up the trash.
   I see, really, the little guys are cleaning up the trash and raking the grass along the road with the help of big hoes. Near the building of the village Council, journalists are interviewed by farmers. I even heard one farmer was interviewed. The journalist asked him a question:
   -Dear worker now in Your farm arrives, our esteemed President. Your feelings about this, please... don't grab on to the microphone... yeah, talk here.
   The farmer began to speak:
   - Thanks to our wise President and our state, the sky over our heads is becoming cleaner and cleaner every year... And most importantly - bread on the shelves there... We get paid prematurely, that is, in advance... Recently, our dear manager gave us pasta two pounds for every trooper cotton plantations. Gas in our village burns under such pressure that sometimes even we are afraid to include a gas stove. Electricity is also buzzing in the wires so that the transformers can not stand the ultra-high, terrible voltage, sometimes explode. Taking this opportunity, on behalf of the workers of our collective farm, who, responding to the calls of our government with their military work, work day and night, from early spring to severe winter, despite any vagaries of nature, I want to Express my gratitude to our wise President and ask that our guide will guide us until the end of his life!
   Another request to give him Chernobil nuclear station worker the award he said, adjusting his bald cap with earflaps, which moth ate. At this point, Durmail Evogar, master of anonymous letters and gravedigger the Tulane Gorkov dressed in heavy coats, canvas boots, ran home.
   - Why are you running, master of anonymous letters Mr.Durmail Evogar?! What happened?! - I asked the master of anonymity.
   - In honor of the arrival of the President in our collective farm, we decided to give light today! Gas already in! Now at least one day we will live like modern people! Fifteen minutes will give electricity, Ur-rra-a! - crucial master of anonymous letters Durmayl Evogar and ran as a proud member of the Komsomol in the battle with the white guards and Basmachi gangs, sometimes on holidays was on TV when he was giving light only for a few hours.
   Hearing this made my heart skip a beat.
   It is necessary to immediately alert Qurumboy, I thought, and ran towards the field where my friend and kinsman Qurumboy from the village "Lattakishlak" cut aluminum wire. I ran, stomping on my boots. The run that is urine, not to be late and shout:
   - Qurumboy-ooooy! Come down quickly from the post-ahhh! Hear-s-IISI, Qurumbo -o -o -o -o! Current into the wires!..
   Qurumboy - zero work on the pole like a monkey, which is sitting on the top of the tree, gorging on succulent leaves in the rainforest. Not hear me. When I reached the abandoned pigsty, from afar I heard a friendly cry of the villagers. They shouted hooray. This meant that the light was given, that is, I did not have time to warn my friend about the danger. Just at this point in the post where Qurumboys cut a line of electric wire using gardening scissors, flashed a big flash, like ball lightning, and Qurumboy flew down. When I ran to the scene, Qurumboy was lying like a clown, holding scissors. From his overcoat and hat of red army soldiers was smoking. He lay on the field of the collective farm "Chapaev", looking at the boundless sky with the blackened face like the devil. I sat on my knees beside him, closed his eyes and cried loudly.
   - Oh, my friend, forgive me, for God's sake! I couldn't warn you in time, you know, I couldn't! Did not have time! Poor! Then I did wrong to you when you were arrested the precinct of Shegabubutdinov. If I hadn't fought you back then, you wouldn't have suffered in prisons and camps! Qoryahan also lied to you. She's the reason you took that risky step and died. You're a victim of injustice! If I, without knowing, accidentally offended you - sorry, mate. I know that it is even very difficult to exist in our country. Now who's going to pay child support to your daughters?! Who will educate them?! Here in our country, the leaders are given the title of hero! It's not fair! Because they live in luxury, eating black and red caviar every day for Breakfast, and ordinary people like you, in search of a piece of bread risk their lives! The title of the hero should not be assigned to the leaders, but to ordinary people, who continue to exist and feed their children even when they do not have a penny in their pockets! You died with honor, and we must bury you as a national hero! May you rest in peace, Qurumboy! I'm going to go to the village and show you to the President! Let him look at you and imagine what is happening in the country and what is happening to ordinary citizens of the country from total unemployment! I cried.
   Then, having carried a body of the native friend on a shoulder, went towards the village. I walked like a warrior who carries his dead brother. The body of Qurumboy was heavy. Therefore, before reaching the village, I was tired and decided to rest a little. I gently lowered the body of Qurumboy down and sitting on the ground, wiped the sweat off my face with a hat, which he made from the skin of a mad dog, the one that we ate. Poor Qurumboy was lying on the wet ground, still holding the scissors. I looked at him and cried. After resting a bit, I again raised Qurumboy shoulder and froze in surprise - Qurumboy hoarsely groaned and opened his eyes. I quickly lowered him to the ground and checked her pulse. Qurumboy was alive!
   - Qurum! Qurumboy, you alive?! Oh, thank God Almighty! You returned my friend! Oh, good thing we didn't bury him alive! Qurumboy, can you hear me?! Say something! - I shouted. Then picked him up again and walked quickly towards the village. In the center of the village villagers surrounded me.
   - Where is the President?! I want to show him my poor friend, who was a victim of universal poverty! Let Mr. President look at him! - I shouted.
   The President didn't show! He drove past our village! As soon as he passed, so immediately turned off the light, turned off the gas, bastards! - said Durmail Evogar.
   There it is, Mr.Sitmrat. Please forgive me for such a short letter.
   Sincerely, the farmerMizhappar.
   February 21, 2008.
   The Collective Farm "Chapaev".
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