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The seventh letter of Mizhappar

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   Holder Volcano
   The seventh letter of Mizhappar
   -Mr. Sitmirat, now is not the time to even say Hello. There is extraordinary news. Qurumboy went into opposition. He emigrated to a small island, which is located on the river "Karadarya", where the wind in the Delta of the river and blooming water lilies.He lives alone in a foreign country, having built a hut of reeds. The night before last, someone knocked on the window of the room where I sleep. You know that in our village there is no light for several months. On moonless nights our village plunges into darkness and reigns a dead silence. Hearing a strange knock, I was afraid. Lifting the kerosene lamp, I carefully went to the window and asked:
   - Who's there?!
   -It is I, Mr. Mizhappar , open the window, there is a thing - someone said in a whisper. I heared a voice , - it was Qurumboy. But when I opened the window, I was even more frightened when I saw a man with a red beard and a mustache of the same color. The man in the sailor's cap with the orange eyebrows was Qurumboy ... It turns out, escaped arrest, he carefully disguised, gluing a beard, mustache and eyebrows from the skin of the same dog, which I killed.
   - Hello, Qurumboy, come on - I said to be nice and wanting to appear hospitable man.
   - Thank you, Mr. Mizhappar , some other time. I'm wanted, I'm wanted everywhere. You go to an abandoned pigsty at midnight tonight. There You will meet a member of the revolutionary Committee Commissioner Yuldashvoy, and he will lead You to an underground meeting of the revolutionary Committee. This meeting will address organizational issues. Be sure to come and don't be late. The Chairman of the revolutionary Committee, Commissioner, Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy - said Qurumboy and walked away.
   Within a few seconds as he disappeared from my sight, dissolving in the darkness like a Ghost, I closed the window, lowering the wick of the kerosene lamp and went to bed. But I could not sleep any more, and at midnight I put on my boots, carefully opened the window so as not to disturb my stepfather and stepmother, and leaping through the window, went towards the abandoned pigsty through the cemetery, where the eagle owl had gone. When I came to the pigsty, at the entrance, I was greeted with Yuldashvoy. It was worn a skull-cap with a red star. He came up to me, walking in a soldier's way, rustling his dermatin jacket with his collar up, and saluted me:
   - I wish you health, comrade Mizhappar . The Chairman of the revolutionary Committee comrad Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy and Commissioner of Mamadiyarenco waiting for you at the headquarters, follow me - said Yuldashvoy.
   We went to the headquarters of the office through the dark corridor, in which two sides darkly glittered cages, iron bird feeders, where once lay a pig. I saw it all when the light is lighted matches which burned in the hands of the Commissioner Yuldashvoy. Although there have not kept pigs, but strong, stinking smell, everything has been preserved. When we went to the headquarters of the ceiling, where a huge blackened doorway like a dark hole of the universe, I saw Qurumboy and Mamadiar. They sat at the table, which was missing one leg, and on which stood a lamp "Chaitanya", increasing the dark shadows of my friends on the walls of the office. On the table, like an old still life of the artist, there were empty cans, a half-drunk bottle of wine and a piece of bread with crumbs. All this was laid out on the old yellowed newspaper "the Lie of the East".
   - Ahhh, come soldier Mizhappar ? Come and sit down, please, here - said Qurumboy , pointing to the inverted iron trough, from which once voracious pigs, greedily grunting and pushing each other, with a great appetite ate slops.
   Thank you, Comrade comander -camindon - I said and sat down on an overturned trough. Mamadiyar wrote something on paper in the light of a kerosene lamp "Shaytan Chirac". Before starting the meeting, Qurumboy tore off pieces of the yellowed newspaper "a Lie of the East", and stuffing them densely the tube and lit. Then, as if wishing to buy Mamadiar, handed him the phone:
   - Would you like to smoke, comrade Commissar? he asked the Mamadiar.
   Well Yes, said Mamadiar and picked it up.
   But he after the first puff, choking on the smoke, began to cough heavily, sticking his tongue like a sick sheep with leaky lungs. From tension his artery on neck swelled up to the maximum size, his eyes shed tears, and his face was very red. Qurumboy quickly poured in a tin of wine and handed it to the Mamadiar:
   - Here, comrade, Mamadiarenco, drink healing balm - he said. Mamadiar, gave up Qurumboy, took a jar of wine and drank to the bottom. Yuldashvoy gave Mamadiar tomato for a snack, poured with fifty grams of wine for himself and drank. Qurumboy held out me up and asked:
   - You want to smoke, comrade Mizhappar ?
   - No, no, thank you Comrade Camindon, Smoking is bad for my body. About it warned me in writing by the Ministry of health - I replied, cautiously looking into a Smoking pipe.
   Well, as you said Qurumboy s dokurivat the remaining tobacco from a piece of yellowed newspaper "a lie of the East", which still smoldered in the tube. Then he went up to the podium, also made of wooden feeders for pigs and began his fiery speech:
   - Members of our party, "valiant beggars "! Enough! The knife has reached the bones! How much can you tolerate oppression and humiliation! We must fight evil, that is, democracy and religious obscurantism, without sparing our blood, in the name of the bright future of our long-suffering people! This book will help us in this fight!.. With these words Qurumboy showed us some book in a red cover, and I asked him:
   -Sorry, Comrade commander is "Capital of the Karl Marx"?
   - No, comrades! This book is called"folk tales". We must learn this book by heart! Because these tales contain unique ways of dealing with the wicked, triceps takanami dragan - "Ajhdarcho" and other abominations. For example, on these pages... Now, I read this tale somewhere here... Ah, here! In short, one poor old man had three grown sons, and they were unemployed. From morning till late at night they slept and woke up just to eat. One day, the elder built them in one line and began to read them morality:
   "My sons, you have become adults and strong! Now you have to fight for your own happiness. To do this, you must unite as never before. If you walk through life together, no enemy can defeat you. Here, I'll show you a unique example... With these words, the old man gave his sons one cotton stalk and told them to break them. Sons easily broke the stems. Then the father gave everyone a sheaf of cotton stalks. The sons broke easily, and the sheaves of cotton "guzapoya". Seeing this, my father was surprised. He gave his sons one wooden pole each and told them to try to break it. Sons without any labor broke and these poles, and began to wait for the next test. Then the old man got angry and shouted to them:
   - You freeloaders! Bedpans are miserable! With such strength, lie at home and live off my pension?! And the cashier does not give us our pension in time, letting it into circulation and getting a score! I can't feed you anymore! Get a job, you parasites! Go to the market and roll the cart! Come on, get out of my house, don't sit here, get out! So the old man began to expel his sons, pushing them out. But the sons clung to the door jamb and begged that the elder did not expel them from the house.
   - Father, don't kick us out, please! We're afraid to go outside! It's full of police officers! They will catch us and, without noticing, put forbidden literature or leaflets in our pockets, send us to prison. From there, we are shocked into camps where innocent people die of malnutrition and tuberculosis!
   - Don't be afraid, jackals cowardly! I will tell your mother, and she will sew up your pockets with a fishing line, having filled them with sand, and any cop will not be able to put to you in your pockets religious leaflets or shells - the old man told.
   - Hih-hih-hih-hih! - laughed senior son, and other sons, too, began laughing at me, showing her teeth, blackened from regular Smoking shag.
   -Father! Pockets-sew mom, but there on the street even more dangerous and ruthless types, your countrymen who hunt for slaves, their own kind. They can trick us into taking us to neighbouring countries and, by taking our passports away, sell us to slave traders for eternal use! Then what?! You want us to become slaves and work in the woods with shackles around our necks and legs, rattling iron chains sadly?! - asked sons at the old man.
   -Nothing, you are so strong that will easily cut steel chains with shackles and escapes- the old man said...
   Here is the story of Qurumboy interrupted. The window without glass appeared clean shaved face, donkey mug Hubbigul, who worked in the part-time confidential informant, that is, a Snitch.
   - Ah, gotcha, you bastards! Well, congratulations. So they created an underground party against the Constitution of our country, right?! I have everything recorded on my dictaphone, and today I will pass all the information where it should be... You now cover, hobos! - said Hubbugul, procesa his wooden leg, dressed in tights.
   Qurumboy in a panic grabbed the bottle and shouted: "Comrades! The striped revolution is in danger!" Then this bottle with all the force he hit Hubbugul on the head. From a crushing blow, Hubbugul fell on the earthen floor Chancellery owned our party. Mamadiar, checking the pulse Hubbigul, made a sign that the informer dead.
   - Camrade Camidon you killed the Snitch! I was glad.
   Although he was a Snitch, still a pity - said Yuldashvoy, sadly removing from the head a skull-cap made of cat skins.
   -Cheer up, comrade Yuldashin! Politics is art! But art always requires sacrifices. - said Qurumboy , holding a half-broken bottle. Then he commanded:
   - Pick up this bastard's body, throw him in the river! We dutifully agreed with our camindon and raised the dead body of the deceased rat. At this time in the sky over the pigsty there was a moon, which sadly floated among the curly clouds, illuminating our way.
   - Comrade Camidon , shouldn't we bury him in the ground than to throw in the water. After all, this corpse will sooner or later come out like a bloated donkey corpse and get stuck somewhere, what will happen then? - Meanwhile, he begins to deteriorate and stray dogs flock there, from time to time jealously growling at the crows, - which will circle in the sky. Do you think that farmers will not notice it and will not call the district Shgabuddinov? - Mamadiyar asked.
   - Before we throw a body in the river, we have to tie that plow to his leg - and it's over. The plow is heavy, and no one will guess about our heinous crime - said Qurumboy .
   - Good idea - we said in unison.
   Then the four of us rose and brought to the shore a heavy plow from an abandoned tractor "T - 28 - x-4" and we tied it to the feet of the Hubbigul, and threw it into the deep river "Karadarya", where the whirlpool raged.
   - That, finally, we got rid of the insidious Snitch-and the revolution is saved! - said Qurumboy , sighing with relief.
   And the moon was still shining over the pigsty. When we returned to the headquarters of the office, we put out a kerosene lamp and went home.
   - Yes, Mr. Sitmrat, to be a revolutionary is not easy. Sitting here in his cabin, I write this letter to You, listen in silence and think about how if they came for me, the precinct of Shgabuddinov, sneaking up quietly and pointed his pistol "the Mauser".
   - Okay, goodbye, Mr.Sitmirat - the carcass of a kerosene lamp.
   - Fuff! Oh, man, my mustache burned again.
   With respect to all, revolutionary soldier Mizhappar.
   Written during the dark night, in the Collective Farm "Chapaev".
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