Anatoly Mityaev - from the diary of Vovik Bashmakov. Anatoly Mityaev: From the diary of Vovik Bashmakov Read from the diary of Vovik Bashmakov

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Anatoly Mityaev
From the diary of Vovik Bashmakov: a story

Sunday

My parents forced me to keep a diary. “Write down all the events of the day in the evening, this will help you determine which day you lived with benefit and which day was useless,” said dad. “Reflect on what you have done, seen and heard.” And my mother added: “All great people kept diaries from childhood. Follow their example and you too will become great.”

Monday

I started keeping a diary. There were no other events. I'm thinking about what I heard. There will be a kayak - a boat in two backpacks. I’ll call Petka Shnurkov: he’s strong. Let's go to the river and assemble the boat. Let's swim. Where? Where the river flows, we will swim there. Let's swim to Oka. Along the Oka - to the Volga. Hydroelectric power stations on the Volga. No matter how it gets sucked into the turbine! You won’t be able to stay alive in the turbine... A kilometer before the dam, we’ll pull the kayak ashore and carry it. We moved it - let's swim further... Wow, how much water, endless expanse of water! Hello, Caspian Sea!.. And then where? We will decide in the Caspian Sea.

Tuesday

I continue to keep a diary. There are no other events. I'm thinking about what I've already written. I don't believe in the sanctity of the diary. I have the key to the table. But there are two more of these! If dad, especially mom, read about our trip with Petka Shnurkov, they will ask to go in the kayak. Mom is heavy. Petka will remain on the shore. And he is already preparing for the trip: he tied large hooks to the fishing rods - for catfish, and put matches in a waterproof bag. He'll be offended. He will say: a liar and a deceiver.

Wednesday

Invented. There will be a test swim with mom and dad. Weekend sailing. How can they swim to the Oka River if they have to work the next day?

Thursday

I sit and think: what else should I write in my diary? I write in large letters - this way the notebook will fill up faster. Mom warned: “If you tear out even a page from the diary, you will get a kayak without oars.” What a thick notebook! Ninety-six sheets. Almost a hundred!

Friday

The event was insignificant. After him, my grandmother said: “Everything bounces off of you like a pea off a wall.”

I thought about what I had heard. The wall, it turns out, it’s me. Peas - grandma's advice. What kind of wall am I? Of what? Made of brick? Or a reinforced concrete slab? Or plywood?

Hit the plywood with peas and there will be a roar! In the kitchen, a wall made of boards is also suitable. I took a bag of peas from the closet. Spilled it on the wall. There was a crack!

While no one was home, I started picking peas. The package contained his million. Half a million on the floor. Can't assemble it by hand. I took a broom and dustpan. Peas with garbage. What if they make soup with such rubbish? I know that I won’t eat. Dad, mom, grandma don’t know - and they’ll eat it... It’s unfair to do this to your loved ones. I poured the peas into the pan. Washed it. I wanted to pour it out on the table to dry. Then grandma returned. She praised him for sweeping the kitchen. She asked: why did I want pea soup and how did I guess that the peas needed to be soaked?

Saturday

The event was insignificant. At the end, the grandmother said: “Talking to you is like pounding water in a mortar.”

What is a stupa? And is it possible to crush liquid? The stupa is probably some kind of new synchrophasotron. The liquid in it turns into a solid. This is what they grind into powder, into mesons and pimesons... Where did grandma get such knowledge? He doesn’t listen to the radio, doesn’t watch TV, speaks - it’s disgusting to listen to and watch.

I decided to find out everything about the stupa. I copied the explanation from the Dictionary of the Russian Language: “A mortar is a metal or heavy wooden vessel in which something is pounded with a pestle.” I learned from the same book what pestle is. It turns out that this is “a short thick rod with a rounded end for pounding something in a mortar.”

I asked Petka Shnurkov about the stupa. He showed me a picture - a stupa is flying across the sky over a forest, and Baba Yaga is in it. This is the kind of thing my grandmother talked about!

I imagined how my grandmother and I took turns hitting the mortar with a pestle, and splashes of water flew out of it. We rented the stupa from Baba Yaga for half an hour. Baba Yaga is shaggy, her dress is torn. Crochet nose. A broom is in his hands. How much do we owe for the stupa? Grandmother gives a thousand. “So much more! - says Baba Yaga. - Because I have to sit in a wet mortar. It’s cold in the sky, I might catch a cold.”

She put two thousand in her pocket. She spun the broom like a propeller and flew away.

Sunday

The event was insignificant. At the end of the event, the grandmother said: “At least you have a stake on your head!”

I saw a neighbor cutting a stake. He placed a thick stick on a block of wood and hit it with an axe.

Monday

I went to the barracks to see the soldiers. The sentry asked who I was going to and why.

“To someone. I’m going to get my helmet.” – “Civilians are not required to wear a helmet. A helmet is military equipment. Nobody will give it to you." “Then I’m lost,” I said. “Why did you disappear? – asked the sentry. “What, boy, are you getting ready for war?” - “No, not to war. They will cut a stake on my head. With an axe." - “Who came up with such atrocity?” – the sentry was surprised. “Grandma,” I answered. “Dear? Can't be! Strange thing... Wait, I’ll report you to the commander.”

There was a telephone on a post by the gate. The sentry said into the phone: “I’m calling the duty officer. Difficult circumstances."

The lieutenant arrived. The guard told him everything.

The lieutenant took me to the general. I told the general everything.

“I won’t allow such a bright head to suffer,” the general said sternly. - Lieutenant! Give the boy a helmet. And a tank helmet. If you first put on a helmet and a helmet on it, there will be less ringing in your ears when you hit an ax.”

The general touched my head, shook my hand and asked me to say hello to my grandmother.

Tuesday

Grandma, mom, dad don’t believe that the helmet and helmet were given for nothing. They ask: “What did you exchange it for?” Mom assures me that I had a barter deal with some soldier and that any minute a military patrol will arrive to pick up my things and me.

Wednesday

We agreed with Petka Shnurkov: when traveling by kayak, we exchange military equipment. During the day I swim in a helmet, he wears a tanker’s helmet. During the day I wear a helmet, and he wears a helmet. No one is offended.

On choppy shores we will camouflage the kayak and ourselves with bundles of reeds. A helmet and helmet will stick out from the reeds. Let them think that the shooter and tanker are carrying out a special mission.

Thursday

Petka Shnurkov came. I put on my helmet. Petka - helmet. We stood in front of the mirror. I put on a courageous face and looked with a menacing look.

The glance accidentally fell on Petka. “Why are you looking at me so brutally?” – Petka asked and brought his fist to my nose. I had to explain that I was looking menacingly into the distance. He came to Petka by accident. We buried the hatchets. We drank tea in the kitchen.

Grandma came. I was surprised that we were sitting at the table, one in a helmet, the other in a helmet. She said: “The heads are heavy and hot. If you take it off, I’ll give you some jam.” Petka took it off and got jam. I didn’t take it off - let my head get used to the heaviness. When I grow up, I will be drafted into the army. Commander Suvorov said: “It’s hard to learn, but it’s easy to fight.” Let it be hard for Petka. And it will be easy for me. He will still remember this jam!

Friday

There was an event in the morning. Mom was getting dressed for work. She took a beret from the shelf. Then a helmet fell from there, followed by a helmet. "Oh! - Mom screamed. - A little more and it would hit my leg! Find a proper place for your things. Otherwise I’ll throw it away!”

An apartment is not a barracks. There is no appropriate place for military items in the apartment. I spent the whole day thinking about where to put my helmet and helmet. I didn't come up with anything. My parents' things are everywhere.

Saturday

I consulted with Petka Shnurkov. He said that his uncle had a double-barreled shotgun, a cartridge belt and a game bag hanging on the carpet above the bed. They don't bother anyone. And very beautiful. He asked: what kind of weapon is the jagdtash? It turned out to be a game bag, similar to a string bag. Only they carry it not in their hands, but over their shoulder on a belt.

Tomorrow I'll hammer a nail over my bed. I think everyone will like it.

Sunday

The day started badly. It ended well. In the morning, dad shouted to the whole apartment: “What kind of son do I have?!” He can't do anything. The nail was bent. The wall was damaged. I beat my fingers off with a hammer. What will happen to him when he grows up!..” Mom also shouted: “I thought of hanging this green pot over my head. What if it falls off the nail?! I didn’t give birth to you so that I could order a coffin for you tomorrow.” Then the grandmother spoke: “Why are you both shouting? Yelling won't help matters. We need to act... Buy him a bike.”

Dad and Mom were scared. Mom came to her senses first and shouted again: “I’ll buy a belt!” And dad quietly said: “We promised a kayak.”

“When will you buy a kayak? - asked the grandmother. – When will the cancer whistle on the mountain? We need to buy a bike without delay.”

Dad and mom listen to grandma. She is a participant in the war. She was a radio operator. Jumped with a parachute to the partisans. The war participants looked death in the eyes. It's better not to argue with them.

It’s nice and happy to know that there will be a bicycle. What about the kayak? They will buy it when the cancer whistles... Besides, it must whistle on the mountain. What kind of crayfish would want to climb a mountain out of the water? Well, there is one. How long will he climb backwards? Tail in front, head behind; the eyes are also behind. Where to crawl, where the mountain is - this cancer cannot see... What about the danger? The crow will not miss the cancer - it will peck it. More drunks. They will grab the crayfish, boil it and eat it with beer.

Will parents refuse to buy a kayak? They will say - they bought a bicycle. Then why am I straining myself over the diary? Why am I wasting my precious time on it?

Monday

It’s not for nothing that they say: Monday is a hard day. We haven't bought the bike yet.

I asked Petka Shnurkov about whistling crayfish. I haven't heard anything about these. He talked about singing frogs. They live in the south. At night they climb trees. They sit on the branches and sing. Visiting people stand quietly under the trees and listen - they think it’s the trill of a nightingale.

Maybe in hot countries there are crayfish that live right on the mountains? They don’t have to go far - they sit at home and whistle...

How will mom and dad know that the southern crayfish has already whistled, that it’s time to buy a kayak?

Tuesday

I rode my bike all day. We bought a nice car! Petka Shnurkov asked to go for a ride. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow,” I said. “I need to try out the mechanisms—the brakes, the steering wheel, the bell.” - “Are you going to try the kayak alone?!” – Petka was offended. “The kayak is different,” I said. “It’s a two-seater, and the bike is a single-seater.”

Petka took a coin out of his pocket, spat on it, whispered and threw it under my tire. “The bicycle is enchanted. It will break down,” he said and went home.

Wednesday

I took the bike outside. Sat down. Got up to speed. Suddenly the steering wheel turned, with the handles facing forward. Fell along with the bike. In the mugs. Okay, not into nettles.

“Why on foot?” - asked the grandmother. Explained. She said that the nut on the steering wheel was loose and needed to be tightened. I was looking for a loose nut. It turned out to be round. I didn't realize that nuts were round. My grandmother helped me find the key for the strange nut. Not a key, but a hook.

Thursday

I rode my bike all day. For some reason Petka Shnurkov did not go outside. If I had come out, I would have kept my word - I would have let him ride. Or maybe he wouldn’t give it: let him not do magic!

Friday

I took the bike out of the shed. I discovered that the tire was flat. Grandma was knitting a sock on a bench at home. “Look for a hole in the camera,” she said.

I took off the wheel. He pulled out the camera. I couldn't find the hole with the naked eye. I brought a magnifying glass. I didn't find it either. Grandmother explained how to look for a hole using a basin. He brought a basin. I poured some water. Pumped up the camera. Squeezed in the water. Where the bubbles came from, there was a hole. I taped up the camera. Grandmother praised: “Patience and work will grind everything down.” I didn't go for a ride. It was already evening.

Saturday

It rained all day. I was sitting at home. I thought about witchcraft. There are sorcerers. They showed one on TV. “Is it difficult to cast magic?” – asked the commentator. “It’s easy for those who know how,” answered the sorcerer. “Does witchcraft take a lot of vital energy?” “Whenever,” the sorcerer answered, “after a lot of witchcraft I don’t leave the house for a week, I sleep night and day.” - “At what age are witchcraft abilities discovered?” - “In different ways. Someone dies without knowing that he is a sorcerer. Some people have felt witchcraft since childhood.”

Maybe Petka Shnurkov felt this power? The handlebar nut may have become loose because I was making sharp turns. Why did the tire get punctured? The bicycle was standing in the barn at night - and suddenly there was a hole in the chamber. Why doesn’t Petka Shnurkov go outside? Suspicious. Maybe he's sleeping off after witchcraft?

In order not to think about sorcerers, I thought about work and patience. “Patience and work will grind everything down,” said the grandmother. I worked patiently and sealed the camera. At this time, grandmother also worked patiently and knitted two socks. We should say: “Patience and work will seal everything, bind everything.” Why should labor and patience grind everything out?..

They are like two files - patience and work. Each of them is a kilometer long. One hundred meters wide. Whoever gets between them is finished.

Crawler-mounted files. We arrived at our street. They rubbed the linden. What a beautiful tree it was! Vaughn Baldik is an Airedale Terrier. With medals, but stupid. He stands there wagging his tail... How could he wag his tail if he had it cut off as a child?.. Okay, I imagined the tail. Run, fool! Now they will grind... They will grind. I didn’t have time to squeal.

Now our house is next. We need to shout to our parents, grandmothers and neighbors to save themselves. I'll wait a minute or two.

What happiness! They, patience and labor, began to grind each other. Only sparks fly! Fine,

that he didn't scream. There would be panic. People formed a traffic jam at the door. They jump from windows. With knots. They would run out into the street. But there is no danger. Patience and labor have already worn each other out. They would take me to court. And from the court to a maximum security colony. Exactly for ten years. Goodbye diary, kayak and bicycle...

Still, I continue to think about witchcraft. What kind of sorcerer is Petka Shnurkov?! Hooligan. At night, he probably climbed into our barn and slashed a tire. Before that I loosened the nut. I'll put a lock on the barn. Let him do his magic at a locked door.

Sunday

It rained all day. I was sitting at home. He hung the lock. There is only one key to it. I keep it under my pillow.

Monday

Monday is a hard day. The night from Sunday to Monday is also difficult. I had a dream. A bandit crept up to my bed. Dressed in a leather jacket. A face with one eye, a nose with nostrils up. Teeth like a horse. I took a closer look and recognized Petka Shnurkov. Petka opened his jacket and had ten pistols in his belt. He pulled out a pistol with the thickest barrel, took aim at me and said: “Sleep, sleep, my boy!”

Petka’s left hand stretched out and climbed under the pillow. For the key! Petka put the key in his pocket, shook his pistol and disappeared.

I wanted to scream. The voice was not heard. I groaned and woke up. Grandma stood by the bed, straightened the blanket and said: “Sleep, sleep well.” - “Petka Shnurkov stole the key! - I said. “Now the bike is breaking.” - “Calm down, what did you come up with? Or did you dream? Your key is there. Where he lay, there he lies.” I felt under the pillow. The key was there.

In the morning I ran to the barn. I opened the lock with the key. Took the bike out. Let's go. The rear wheel rubs against the fork. The repair is simple. I unscrewed two small nuts and two large ones. I set the wheel straight. Tightened the nuts. And that's all...

I no longer wanted to ride. When you're driving, there's no time to think. But we have to think. I fell into the devil's trap. Petka Shnurkov is not to be trifled with. The bike breaks without leaving the house. And it doesn't let you sleep peacefully. Maybe make peace with him?

Tuesday

The bike is fine. I rode around a bit. I put the car in the barn under lock and key. I wiped the helmet with a damp cloth.

I cleaned the helmet with a brush. I keep them in a pasta box... A general will meet me and ask: “Where do you keep the headdresses of our glorious Russian army?” What shall I answer? A shame!

Wednesday

Another misfortune: the front wheel was bent. Grandma said “eight”. Did I hit a pole? No, I didn’t fly. And he didn’t hit the stone. Didn't hit the stump either. What else should I expect? Will the pedals fall off? Will the frame burst?.. “Don’t despair,” said the grandmother, “we’ll straighten the wheel together.” The wheel was straightened: some spokes were tightened, others were released. "All! – I said firmly. – Today I’ll give Petka Shnurkov a showdown. I don't care if he's a sorcerer. And there will be friends.”

“Chill,” the grandmother also said firmly. “Petya has nothing to do with the breakdowns!” - “How do you know that it doesn’t?” – I asked. Grandmother replied: “I know everything.” - “And do you also know why the bicycle breaks down?” “Of course,” the grandmother agreed and went into another room. Closing the door, she looked at me intently and added: “Petya is your friend.” They don’t change only on suspicion of friends. Remember: an old friend is better than two new ones.”

After this conversation, my condition, as my mother would say, is terrible, I could go crazy, it’s better to die!

Once again I asked my grandmother why the new bicycle was breaking down. She said: “Transform yourself into Sherlock Holmes and, using the deductive method, guess for yourself.”

Thursday

It's easy to say - reincarnate! But to discover the truth, you need to reincarnate. Sherlock Holmes had a pipe. Where can I pick up the phone? Light daddy's cigarette? Of course, the replacement is not equivalent. But still. The famous detective also had a friend - Dr. Watson. Do I have a friend? Grandma says yes, Petka Shnurkov.

How good we were friends! Of course, there were disagreements. I once said that shoes are more important than laces. Petka disagreed: “The laces are more important!” To resolve the dispute, we went to play football. I pulled the laces out of my shoes. Petka took off his shoes and tied the laces to his bare feet. I went one on one with the goalkeeper, took a shot, but instead of the ball, a shoe flew into the goal. The goal was not counted. Petka, in the striking position, handled the ball with his foot and fell - he stepped on the lace of his right foot with his left foot.

The guys kicked us out of the game: “Come back when you have proper shoes.”

We were happy: the dispute was over. We made up a saying. She reconciles us every time: “Shoes without laces are like laces without shoes.”

Tomorrow morning I will go to Petka. Maybe he knows something about the deductive method.

Friday

Petka, it turns out, is with his uncle in the village. Coming soon. I am ashamed: I thought so poorly of my faithful comrade!

Old friend, he's better than the new two. We have shoe names. Where would I find friends with shoe names? Podmetkin - what a name! Stelkin - even worse, “drunk as hell.” Well, Kablukov. But no more. Golenishchev. Commander Kutuzov was also Golenishchev. Of course that would do. But the top of the boot. A boot is not a shoe.

I try to think about Petka, but I think about my grandmother. He knows, but doesn't speak. Why?

Saturday

I read about deduction in the dictionary. This is a "chain of reasoning". Sherlock Holmes reasoned with his friend Watson. The chain lengthened and lengthened, and the detective suddenly named the murderer or robber. One cannot reason. Petya would come sooner.

Sunday

Still, there are benefits from a diary. When I sit with a diary, my parents don’t demand anything from me and don’t interfere with my reasoning. Only my grandmother said to me in passing: “Think, head, I’ll buy a cap.” I replied: “I need your cap, I have a tanker’s helmet and a helmet.” I'm getting more and more angry with my grandmother.

An insidious tormentor - that's what she is. If her sewing machine broke down and I knew why, I would immediately tell her.

Monday

I don’t believe myself - I’m Sherlock Holmes. Alone, without Watson, without smoking a pipe, he made a chain of reasoning.

First link. My grandmother forced my parents to buy a bicycle.

Second link. My parents still have to spend money on a kayak, so my dad bought a discounted, cheap bike. The car breaks down on its own.

Dad is on night duty. Tomorrow, to confirm my conclusion, I will talk to him man to man.

Tuesday

“Father,” I said in a stern voice, “you bought a bicycle in the discount department.” “No,” answered dad, “I bought it where everyone else bought it.” “You see, a chain of reasoning using the deductive method leads to the conclusion that the bicycle is discounted. He breaks down at every step."

Dad laughed: “Are you Sherlock Holmes? Am I the criminal you identified? Give you a KAMAZ now, you’ll give it not “eights”, but “nines” on all wheels. Once you learn to ride, the bike will stop breaking down.”

The mood soured. Then my grandmother read the moral. “You,” he says, “spoke rudely to your father. If things go on like this, you will be a good assistant to your father in his old age.” - “Excellent!” – I said defiantly. “Yes, yes,” the grandmother seemed to agree, “excellent.” You will use an awl to put your father on the stove. What kind of son will you grow up to be!”

Wednesday

I'm waiting for Petka Shnurkov. While I'm alone, I'm not talking about the bike, but about my future son. I've grown old. The head is bald. Long beard and mustache. So as not to interfere, I stuff my beard and mustache under my belt. I don’t go to the hairdresser: my pension is only enough for bread, I have nothing to pay the hairdresser with. That's all grown up. Well, at least hair doesn't grow on my head. Son is rude. He gets his hair cut and shaved, his health is like that of a weightlifter. This is wonderful - if only the children were healthy...

And my knees ache. Legs bend poorly. The son says: “Lie on the stove, your legs will get better in the warmth.” The stove in our apartment is rustic, made of bricks. Lying on hot bricks is beneficial. How to climb onto the stove? High. “Son,” I say, “give me a seat!” - “Now, now, dad! I’ll just take an awl.”

He comes towards me with a long awl. Where did I get the strength from - I’m already on the stove. “Oh, dad, dad,” says the son, “it turns out you’re a malingerer. It’s a waste of time to pay doctors money for you. It turns out you need to be treated with an awl.”

I’m lying on the stove and thinking: “I bought him a bicycle, I bought him a kayak, but I should have bought a good belt.”

Thursday

Petka Shnurkov came. Returned from the village. I brought a pike as a gift to my grandmother. I caught it myself on a girder.

It turns out that his uncle, having learned that we would go kayaking, taught his nephew to fish.

Petka soon left. I managed to whisper to come tomorrow to do a chain of reasoning using the deductive method.

Friday

In the morning, as promised, Petka Shnurkov came. He admitted that yesterday he did not understand what kind of chain we would make, from what, and for what purpose. Told him about Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson and deduction. Offered to be Watson.

“Maybe I’ll agree,” said Petka. “We need to find out what’s going on.”

“Once upon a time there was a boy,” I began, “his new bicycle broke down very often. The boy repaired it together with his grandmother. Grandma knew why the bike was breaking, but she didn’t say. The boy needs to find out for himself through deduction.”

“Which boy? What grandmother? “Once upon a time there lived a gray goat with my grandmother...” Petka interrupted. “Are you a boy?”

There was nothing to do, I told my friend everything: how I suspected him of witchcraft, and how he appeared to me in a dream for the key to the barn.

Petka was not offended. He just said that noses don’t have their nostrils up. “So many things would attack such nostrils,” said Petka, “but it began to rain. What if you have a runny nose? I sneezed and it splattered in my eyes.”

I was silent. Petka asked to remember the details of that terrible night.

“What, is your grandmother a psychic? - said Petka, having listened to the story again. – Did you feel that your grandson would dream about the bandit Shnurkov and came from your room to your bed? And I managed to find the key under the pillow before you woke up? And the next morning there is a figure eight on the wheel...”

When Petka said this, I realized that he, Shnurkov, was Sherlock Holmes. And I'm not even Dr. Watson. I'm just a victim. And from whom? From my grandmother! When I was sleeping, she would take the key out from under the pillow and break the bike. Then she put the key under the pillow. How could I have thought such a thing! She was a radio operator for the partisans, she fought with the Nazis... I will take revenge on my grandmother, she will suffer with me with her sewing machine!

I asked Petka if he knew what was breaking in the sewing machine. Petka did not answer my question. “I can guess something,” he said. “One thing is unclear: why did grandma suddenly order me to buy a bicycle?”

“Not suddenly,” I admitted. – There was noise throughout the entire apartment. I wanted to drive a nail in with one blow with a hammer and hit my finger.” “Now everything is clear and without deduction,” Petka was delighted. -You have a great grandma! She taught you to work with your hands. You are now a bicycle master. Now it’s a piece of cake for you to hammer a nail.”

Petka went to help his mother clean the apartment. I was thinking about myself. I wanted to fight with my friend. I wanted to break my grandmother’s sewing machine, and this was instead of gratitude...

I exterminated mosquitoes in my grandmother's room. He turned on the vacuum cleaner and sneaked up on them with a hose. A very good way: the walls do not get dirty. The hole of the vacuum cleaner was plugged with a paper stopper. Otherwise they will come out. Should we take out a patent for a new method of combating harmful insects?

Saturday

At breakfast, my grandmother told me how she went to Moscow. Everything on the subway has trolleys. They are carrying large bags. Grandma has a cart with a small bag, but it’s still hard. “I had a cart,” the grandmother sighed, “but there was no horse...” This poem has a continuation: “But suddenly she neighed, neighed and ran.” If only we could make a self-propelled cart! I’ll do it, give it to my grandmother, and then I’ll say that I know why the bike broke. But now I can’t say: it’s difficult. In general, it’s somehow difficult to reconcile. It's easy to quarrel. Quarrels happen naturally.

...Everyone is jealous of grandma. She walks, and the cart moves ahead. Grandma has the reins in her hands. The right rein will pull the cart to the right, and the left will pull the cart to the left. If someone crosses the road close, the cart neighs like a horse.

A woman with children is leading the children and pushing a cart. “Come on,” says the grandmother, “catch mine. I have enough power." They hitched a lame old man's cart. The old man from behind pushes with a crutch.

Persons of Caucasian appearance wanted to hitch up their carts. “How shameful!” - the lame old man shouted and drove them away with a crutch. “That’s right,” says the grandmother, “only catch the weak.”

Trains come and go, but no one gets on the carriages. They watch how others carry grandma's cart. Those who cannot see because of their heads, but only hear neighing, ask: “What, mounted police in the subway?” “No,” they answer, “the cart is neighing, it has a horn.”

“Where did you buy the beautiful cart? For how many millions? Whose production? Japanese? - “Shush you Japanese! - says the grandmother. “My grandson did it.”

Why doesn't grandma ask about deduction? It would be fair if she started talking about her first. Of course, my grandmother taught me, but she also got on my nerves.

Sunday

I am an egoist. I regret my nerves, I didn’t think about my grandmother’s. She was at war. The Nazis really frayed her nerves.

I am a man. Grandmother is a woman. A difficult task must be started by a man. I figured out how I’ll start the conversation tomorrow: “Grandma, you broke the bike...”

Monday

“That’s right,” agreed the grandmother. “I thought you’d figure it out quickly, but no, and my idea dragged on.” Are you angry?

“I was angry before,” I admitted. “Okay,” said the grandmother, “my soul also felt light.”

Tuesday

Good mood. I think about the angry ones. It turns out they carry water. Where do they ship from and where? It is clear. From where it is, to where it is not. For example, if a water pipe bursts, it flows from the river into the houses.

The water pipe burst. There is no tea, no soup, everyone is unwashed... The mayor convened the city council to think about what to do. “Cars without gasoline. We haven’t paid workers’ wages for three months,” says the mayor. “How can we bring water for free?”

“Let’s drive crooks,” said one deputy. “They are sitting in prison with nothing to do.” “Impossible,” answered the mayor, “the swindlers will steal the water and will not return to the cells.”

“We need to drive the speculators,” said another deputy. “They huddle at intersections all day long.” “It’s impossible,” said the mayor, “speculators will start selling water at exorbitant prices. Think carefully, gentlemen. “Think, head, I’ll buy a cap.”

“We are already in caps,” the deputies answer. “We’ve already come up with a lot of things.”

“Whoever distinguishes himself will receive an American one in addition to the Russian cap,” the mayor promised. “With a mesh on the back of the head, with the letters USA.”

“Bring the American one,” says the third deputy. - Invented. It is necessary to carry water to angry people. I know one such boy."

"Amazing! – the mayor was delighted. – Announce on the radio to the angry people to gather at the mayor’s office. From there to the river for water. Next time they will know how to be angry.”

I don't need to go to the mayor's office. It's been a day since I stopped being angry. I'm going out of curiosity.

The deputies went out onto the street, waiting for the angry ones. Passers-by walk by and smile. A deputy in an American cap caught one and asked: why is he smiling? “No tea, no soup, I don’t wash my face - good!” - “What good!” – the deputy got angry. “Yeah! - the mayor shouted. - You, Mr. Deputy, are angry. March to the river for water." “I have parliamentary immunity,” the American cap answered even angrier. “Okay,” says the mayor, “then bring the angry boy. We will carry water on it.”

If they grab me and tell me I'm angry, I'll actually get angry. What a nightmare! As mom says, horror! You can go crazy!

Wednesday

When you are in a good mood, useful thoughts come to your mind. The idea came to open a bicycle repair shop. I’ll earn a lot of money, ease the burden of my parents - I’ll buy a kayak myself.

Thursday

I hung a sign outside the house: “Urgent bicycle repairs in the yard. Master Vovik Bashmakov." Dad said: “Well, well...” Grandma said nothing. Mom praised: “Well done! All famous millionaires started their business as boys - selling newspapers. Let there be a millionaire who started his business by repairing bicycles.”

Friday

He stood under his ad with a wrench. Let customers see who they will be doing business with. So far no one has asked for technical assistance.

Saturday

I stood under the ad for a long time. When cyclists passed by, he hit the hammer with a wrench. Nobody stopped.

Sunday

Kletska, a hooligan from the next street, three years older than me, came. “Hello, Mr. Bashmakov,” he said. - What, started your own business? How's the income? – “There is no income yet. I’m just getting started,” I replied. “Bring me a bike of any brand, Kletska, and I’ll repair it.”

“I make a note,” Klocka said, “treat your visitors politely. You should call me Mr. Klotz. I also have a company. While I am alone in it, just like you are in yours. My security company. I will protect you - for half the proceeds. Otherwise others will come and take it all.”

How did I figure out what to answer? I'm surprised at my own intelligence. “You, Mr. Klotz, are late.

My company is protected by Mr. Petka Shnurkov. He is a karateka, everyone is afraid of him.”

“Is that all? - Kletska doubted and asked: “What kind of belt does he have?”

I didn’t know exactly what kind of belts karatekas had. In order not to be mistaken, he said that he was given a special seven-color one - for the invention of a new type of wrestling. To make Klotska believe it, I added that the technique is called “Khakamada” 1
This refers to the name of a famous political figure of the late 1990s. Irina Khakamada. ( Note ed.)

I heard this Japanese word on TV.

Kletska pestered him with a question - what kind of reception?

“Have you seen on TV how a ballerina spins on one leg? – I began the explanation. – So, before my eyes, Mr. Petka Shnurkov was attacked by six people from six sides at once. Mr. Shnurkov spun like a ballerina, extended his arms to the sides and in one turn put everyone on the ground.”

Attention! This is an introductory fragment of the book.

If you liked the beginning of the book, then the full version can be purchased from our partner - the distributor of legal content, LitRes LLC.

Anatoly Mityaev

From the diary of Vovik Bashmakov: a story

Sunday

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Invented. There will be a test swim with mom and dad. Weekend sailing. How can they swim to the Oka River if they have to work the next day?

Thursday

Friday

The event was insignificant. After him, my grandmother said: “Everything bounces off of you like a pea off a wall.”

I thought about what I had heard. The wall, it turns out, it’s me. Peas - grandma's advice. What kind of wall am I? Of what? Made of brick? Or a reinforced concrete slab? Or plywood?

Hit the plywood with peas and there will be a roar! In the kitchen, a wall made of boards is also suitable. I took a bag of peas from the closet. Spilled it on the wall. There was a crack!

Saturday

The event was insignificant. At the end, the grandmother said: “Talking to you is like pounding water in a mortar.”

Sunday

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Invented. There will be a test swim with mom and dad. Weekend sailing. How can they swim to the Oka River if they have to work the next day?

Thursday

Friday

The event was insignificant. After him, my grandmother said: “Everything bounces off of you like a pea off a wall.”

I thought about what I had heard. The wall, it turns out, it’s me. Peas - grandma's advice. What kind of wall am I? Of what? Made of brick? Or a reinforced concrete slab? Or plywood?

Hit the plywood with peas and there will be a roar! In the kitchen, a wall made of boards is also suitable. I took a bag of peas from the closet. Spilled it on the wall. There was a crack!

While no one was home, I started picking peas. The package contained his million. Half a million on the floor. Can't assemble it by hand. I took a broom and dustpan. Peas with garbage.

What if they make soup with such rubbish? I know that I won’t eat. Dad, mom, grandma don’t know - and they’ll eat it... It’s unfair to do this to your loved ones. I poured the peas into the pan. Washed it. I wanted to pour it out on the table to dry. Then grandma returned. She praised him for sweeping the kitchen. She asked: why did I want pea soup and how did I guess that the peas needed to be soaked?

Saturday

The event was insignificant. At the end, the grandmother said: “Talking to you is like pounding water in a mortar.”

I asked Petka Shnurkov about the stupa. He showed me a picture - a stupa is flying across the sky over a forest, and Baba Yaga is in it. This is the kind of thing my grandmother talked about!

She put two thousand in her pocket. She spun the broom like a propeller and flew away.

Sunday

The event was insignificant. At the end of the event, the grandmother said: “At least you have a stake on your head!”

I saw a neighbor cutting a stake. He placed a thick stick on a block of wood and hit it with an axe.

Monday

I went to the barracks to see the soldiers. The sentry asked who I was going to and why.

There was a telephone on a post by the gate. The sentry said into the phone: “I’m calling the duty officer. Difficult circumstances."

The lieutenant arrived. The guard told him everything.

The lieutenant took me to the general. I told the general everything.

The general touched my head, shook my hand and asked me to say hello to my grandmother.

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Petka Shnurkov came. I put on my helmet. Petka - helmet. We stood in front of the mirror. I put on a courageous face and looked with a menacing look.

Friday

Saturday

Tomorrow I'll hammer a nail over my bed. I think everyone will like it.

Sunday

Dad and Mom were scared. Mom came to her senses first and shouted again: “I’ll buy a belt!” And dad quietly said: “We promised a kayak.”

“When will you buy a kayak? - asked the grandmother. – When will the cancer whistle on the mountain? We need to buy a bike without delay.”

Will parents refuse to buy a kayak? They will say - they bought a bicycle. Then why am I straining myself over the diary? Why am I wasting my precious time on it?

Monday

It’s not for nothing that they say: Monday is a hard day. We haven't bought the bike yet.

Maybe in hot countries there are crayfish that live right on the mountains? They don’t have to go far - they sit at home and whistle...

How will mom and dad know that the southern crayfish has already whistled, that it’s time to buy a kayak?

Tuesday

Petka took a coin out of his pocket, spat on it, whispered and threw it under my tire. “The bicycle is enchanted. It will break down,” he said and went home.

Wednesday

I took the bike outside. Sat down. Got up to speed. Suddenly the steering wheel turned, with the handles facing forward. Fell along with the bike. In the mugs. Okay, not into nettles.

Thursday

Friday

I took the bike out of the shed. I discovered that the tire was flat. Grandma was knitting a sock on a bench at home. “Look for a hole in the camera,” she said.

Saturday

They are like two files - patience and work. Each of them is a kilometer long. One hundred meters wide. Whoever gets between them is finished.

Now our house is next. We need to shout to our parents, grandmothers and neighbors to save themselves. I'll wait a minute or two.

What happiness! They, patience and labor, began to grind each other. Only sparks fly! Fine,

Sunday

It rained all day. I was sitting at home. He hung the lock. There is only one key to it. I keep it under my pillow.

Monday

Petka’s left hand stretched out and climbed under the pillow. For the key! Petka put the key in his pocket, shook his pistol and disappeared.

Tuesday

The bike is fine. I rode around a bit. I put the car in the barn under lock and key. I wiped the helmet with a damp cloth.

I cleaned the helmet with a brush. I keep them in a pasta box... A general will meet me and ask: “Where do you keep the headdresses of our glorious Russian army?” What shall I answer? A shame!

Wednesday

After this conversation, my condition, as my mother would say, is terrible, I could go crazy, it’s better to die!

Once again I asked my grandmother why the new bicycle was breaking down. She said: “Transform yourself into Sherlock Holmes and, using the deductive method, guess for yourself.”

Thursday

The guys kicked us out of the game: “Come back when you have proper shoes.”

We were happy: the dispute was over. We made up a saying. She reconciles us every time: “Shoes without laces are like laces without shoes.”

Tomorrow morning I will go to Petka. Maybe he knows something about the deductive method.

Friday

Petka, it turns out, is with his uncle in the village. Coming soon. I am ashamed: I thought so poorly of my faithful comrade!

I try to think about Petka, but I think about my grandmother. He knows, but doesn't speak. Why?

Saturday

Sunday

An insidious tormentor - that's what she is. If her sewing machine broke down and I knew why, I would immediately tell her.

Monday

I don’t believe myself - I’m Sherlock Holmes. Alone, without Watson, without smoking a pipe, he made a chain of reasoning.

First link. My grandmother forced my parents to buy a bicycle.

Second link. My parents still have to spend money on a kayak, so my dad bought a discounted, cheap bike. The car breaks down on its own.

Dad is on night duty. Tomorrow, to confirm my conclusion, I will talk to him man to man.

Tuesday

Wednesday

I’m lying on the stove and thinking: “I bought him a bicycle, I bought him a kayak, but I should have bought a good belt.”

Thursday

Petka Shnurkov came. Returned from the village. I brought a pike as a gift to my grandmother. I caught it myself on a girder.

It turns out that his uncle, having learned that we would go kayaking, taught his nephew to fish.

Biography

After graduating from the 9th grade of school No. 1 in, he submitted documents to the forestry technical school (MSUL [ specify]). But the war began.

It's no secret - it was a golden time, the heyday of Murzilka. Mityaev did not draw himself, but had an artistic nature. Highly artistic. He was well versed in painting and had a flair for potential, untapped talents; it was no coincidence that many subsequently famous masters started out at Murzilka. On top of everything, Mityaev was a charming person, he exuded warmth. He went through the war, but retained his childish perception - he admired simple things and made constant discoveries in the world around him. But what is especially important is that he discovered in people what they did not even suspect in themselves. Mityaev united the best forces in the magazine and discovered what was beyond the horizon of children's illustration.

Later he headed the editorial office of the studio "".

Books

Six Ivans - six captains
Tales by the campfire
One thousand four hundred and eighteen days: Heroes and battles
Sixth-incomplete
Feat of a soldier
Book of future commanders
Book of future admirals
Winds
Thunders of Borodin
Stories about the Russian fleet
Red lesson
Rye bread - grandpa roll

Cartoon scripts

"The Tale of Other People's Colors" (1962)
"The Adventures of Comma and Period" (1965)
"The Proud Boat" (1966)
"Granddaughter Lost" (1966)
"Alarm Clock" (1967)
"" (1967)
"" (1968)
"" (1974)
"Smoke from the Rocker" (1979)
"Merry Carousel No. 15. The Girl and the Pirates" (1983)

Memory

Notes

Sources

Vaylo S.“I can call myself a gunsmith...” // Ryazan Gazette. - 2004. - May 12.

Links

Categories:

Personalities in alphabetical order
Born on May 12
Born in 1924
Deaths on April 23
Died in 2008
Writers of Russia of the 20th century
Russian screenwriters
Born in the Sapozhkovsky district of the Ryazan region

Author	Book	Description	Year	Price	Book type
Mityaev Anatoly Vasilievich	From the diary of Vovik Bashmakov	To receive a kayak from his parents, the main character of the story, Vovik Bashmakov, must fill out a thick notebook with his daily notes. Vovik’s friend, Petka Shnurkov, to whom Vovik informed about... - Children's Literature Publishing House, Our Brand	2016	367	paper book
Mityaev Anatoly Vasilievich	From the diary of Vovik Bashmakov	To receive a kayak from his parents, the main character in the story, Vovik Bashmakov, must fill out a thick notebook with his daily notes. Vovik's friend, PetkaShnurkov, to whom Vovik informed about... - CHILDREN'S LITERATURE, Our brand	2016	340	paper book
Anatoly Mityaev	From the diary of Vovik Bashmakov	eBook	1997	160	eBook
Anatoly Mityaev	From the diary of Vovik Bashmakov	To receive a kayak from his parents, the main character of the story, Vovik Bashmakov, must fill out a thick notebook with his daily notes. Vovik’s friend, PetkaShnurkov, to whom Vovik informed about... - Children's Literature Publishing House, Our brand (Children's literature)	2016		paper book
Mityaev Anatoly Vasilievich	Happy evening	School library	2016	220	paper book
Mityaev Anatoly Vasilievich	Happy evening	The collection includes a cycle of stories "Grandfather Sergei and grandson Sergei", the story "From the diary of Vovik Bashmakov", stories and fairy tales - Children's literature, School library	2016	259	paper book