Of all the beasts, the most frightened was the ape, the monkey. An explosion overturned his, cage. The cage fell from its stand. One side was broken. And our ape fell out of the cage onto the path.
He fell out onto the path, but did not remain lying there immobile in the manner of people who are used to military activities. On the contrary. He immediately climbed up a tree. From there, he leaped on the wall. From the wall to the street. And, as though he were on fire, he ran.
He's running, and probably he's thinking: "Eh, if there are bombs falling around here, then I don't agree." And that means he's running like mad along the city streets.
He ran all the way through the city. He ran out on the highway. He runs along this highway till he leaves the city behind. Well, an ape. It's not a man. He doesn't understand the whys and wherefores. He doesn't see any sense in remaining in this city.
He ran and ran and tired himself out. He was all tired out. He climbed a tree. He ate a fly to recoup his strength. And then a couple of worms. And he fell asleep there on the branch where he was sitting.
At this time, a military vehicle came along the road. The driver saw the ape in the tree. He was surprised. Quietly he crept up to
it. He flung his coat over it. And put it in his vehicle. He thought: "It's better I give him to some friend of mine rather than have him die of hunger, cold, and other hardships." So that means, on he went along with the ape.
He arrived in the city of Borisov. He went about his official business. But the monkey remained in the vehicle. He said to it: "Wait for me here, cutie. I'll be back soon."
But our monkey wouldn't wait. He climbed out of the vehicle through a broken window and went strolling along the streets.
And, so, he proceeds, the dear little thing, along the street^ strolling, ambling along, tail up. The people, naturally, are surprised and want to catch him. But catching him isn't all that easy. He's lively and nimble, and runs quickly on all fours. So they didn't catch him, but only succeeded in tormenting the fugitive in vain.
Tormented, he wearied and, naturally, wanted to eat.
But in the city, where could he eat? There wasn't anything edible in the streets. With his tail, he could hardly get into a restaurant. Or a co-operative. All the more since he had no money. No discount. Ration coupons he does not have. It's awful.
Nevertheless, he got into a certain co-operative. Had a feeling that something was doing there. And they were distributing vegetables to the population: carrots, rutabagas, and cucumbers.
He scampered into this store. He sees: There's a long line. No, he did not take a place in this line. Nor did he start pushing people aside in order to shove his way through. He just leaped along the heads of the customers to where the goods were. He leaped on the counter. He didn't ask how much a kilo of carrots costs. And, as the saying goes, that's the kind he was. He ran out of the store, satisfied with his purchase. Well, an ape. Doesn't understand the whys and wherefores. Doesn't see the sense of remaining without rations.
Naturally there was commotion in the store, hubbub, confusion. The public began to yell. The salesgirl who was weighing rutabagas almost fainted from surprise. And, really, one could well be frightened, if instead of the usual, normal-type customer, a hairy creature with a tail hops up. And what's more, doesn't even pay.
The public pursued the ape into the street. And he runs and on the way he chews on a carrot. He's eating. He doesn't understand the whys and wherefores.
The little boys are running at the head of the crowd. Behind
them, the grown-ups. And, bringing up the rear, the policeman is running and blowing on his whistle.
And from somewhere, Lord knows where, a dog leaped out into the melee. And also sets out after our little monkey. Not only is he yelping and yowling, but he's even trying to sink his teeth into the ape.
Our monkey picked up speed. He runs, and probably he's thinking to himself: "Och," he's thinking, "should never have left the zoo. Breathing was easier in the cage. First opportunity, I'm going to head right back there."
And, so, he runs as hard as he can, but the dog isn't giving up and still wants to grab him.
Then our ape hppped up onto some kind of fence. And when the dog leaped up to grab the monkey by the feet, as it were, the latter blipped him full force with a carrot on the nose. And he hit him so hard that the dog yelped and ran home, wounded nose and all. Probably he was thinking: "No, citizens, better I should lie quietly at home than go catching monkeys and experiencing such extreme unpleasantness."
Briefly speaking, the dog fled and our ape leaped into the yard.
In the yard at this time a teen-age boy was chopping wood, a certain Alesha Popov.
There he is, chopping wood, and suddenly he sees an ape. All his life he's dreamed of having an ape like that. And suddenly— there you are!
Alesha slipped off his jacket and with this jacket he caught the monkey who had run up the ladder in the corner.
The boy brought him home. Fed him. Gave him tea to drink. And the ape was quite content. But not entirely. Because Alesha's grandma took an instant dislike to him. She shouted at the monkey and even wanted to strike him across the paw. All this because, while they were drinking tea, grandma had put a piece of candy she had been chewing on a plate, and the ape had grabbed grandma's candy and tossed it into his own mouth. Well, an ape. It's not a man. A man, if he takes something, wouldn't do it right under grandma's nose. But this monkey—right in grandma's presence. And, naturally, it brought her almost to tears.
Grandma said: "All in all, it's extremely unpleasant having some kind of macaco with a tail living in the apartment. It will frighten me with its inhuman face. It will jump on me in the dark. It will eat my candy. No, I absolutely refuse to live in the same
apartment with an ape. One of us is going to wind up in the zoo. Can it be that I should move straight over to the zoo? No, better let the monkey go there. And I will continue to live in my apartment."
Alesha said to his grandma: "No, grandma, you don't need to move over to the zoo. I guarantee that the monkey won't eat anything more of yours. I will train it like a person. I will teach it to eat with a teaspoon. And to drink tea out of a glass. As far as jumping is concerned, I cannot forbid it to swing from the lamp that hangs from the ceiling. From there, naturally, it could leap on your head. But the main thing is that you shouldn't be frightened if this happens. Because this is only an ape that means no harm, and in Africa it was used to leaping and swinging."
The next day Alesha left for school. And begged his grandma to look after the ape. But grandma did not begin to look after it. She thought: "What am I going to do yet, stand here looking after every monstrosity?" And with these thoughts, grandma went and fell asleep on purpose in her armchair.
And then our ape leaped out into the street through the open casement window. And walked along on the sunny side. It isn't known whether he maybe just wanted to go for a little stroll, or whether he wanted to go have another look at the store to see if there was anything he wanted to buy for himself. Not for money, but just so.
And along the street at this time a certain old man was making his way. The invalid Gavrilych. He was going to the bathhouse. And in his hands he carried a small basket in which there were some soap and a change of linen.
He saw the ape and at first he didn't even believe his eyes that it was an ape. He thought it only seemed that way to him because he had just drunk up a jug of beer.
So he looks with amazement at the ape. And it looks at him. Maybe it's thinking: "What kind of a scarecrow is this, with a basket in his hands?"
Finally, it dawned on Gavrilych that this was a real ape and not an imaginary one. And then he thought: "With luck, 111 catch it. Tomorrow I'll take it to the market and I'll sell it there for a hundred rubles. And with that kind of money I can drink ten jugs of beer in a row." And with these thoughts in mind Gavrilych set about catching the ape, murmuring: "P'st, p'st, p'st... here now."
No, he
knew it wasn't a cat, but he wasn't sure what language
to speak to it in. But then it struck him that this was, after all, the most highly developed creature of the animal world. And then he took a piece of sugar out of his pocket, showed it to the ape, and said, taking a bow: "Monkey, old friend, old beauty, wouldn't you like to eat a little piece of sugar?"
The latter replied: "Please, yes I would . . ." That is, actually, he didn't say anything because he didn't know how to talk. But he simply walked right up, grabbed this little lump of sugar, and started to eat it.
Gavrilych picked him up in his hands and put him in his basket. It was warm and snug in the basket. And our monkey didn't try to get out. Maybe he thought: "Let this old sot carry me in his basket. It's even rather pleasant."
At first Gavrilych thought of taking it home. But then he really didn't want to go home again. And he went to the bathhouse with the ape. He thought: "Better I should go to the bathhouse with it. There I can wash it up. It will be clean, pleasant to look at. I'll tie a ribbon around its neck. That way I'll get more for it at the market."
And so he arrived at the bathhouse with his monkey. And began to wash himself, and to wash it too.
And it was very warm in the bathhouse, boiling—just like Africa. And our monkey was quite pleased with this warm atmosphere. But not entirely. Because Gavrilych was washing him with soap and the soap got into his mouth. Naturally, it didn't taste good, but that was no reason to scream and kick around and refuse to be washed. Our monkey began to splash furiously, but at this point soap got into his eyes. And from this, the monkey really went out of his mind. He bit Gavrilych on the finger, tore himself loose, and leaped out of the bath as though he were on fire.
He leaped out into the room where people were getting dressed. And there, he frightened them all out of their wits. No one knew it was an ape. They see: something round, white, and foamy has leaped out. At first it leaped onto the couch. Then on the stove. From the stove onto the trunk. From the trunk onto somebody's head. And again up on the stove.
Several nervous-type customers cried out and started to run out of the bathhouse. And our ape ran out too. And went scampering down the stairs.
s And there below was the ticket office, with a little window. The ape leaped through this little window, thinking it would be more
peaceful there, and, most important, there wouldn't be such a fuss and commotion. But in the ticket office sat the fat woman who sold the tickets, and she sobbed and squealed. And ran out of the ticket office shouting: "Help! Emergency! Seems a bomb fell in my office. Quick, some iodine!"
Our monkey hated all this yelling. He leaped out of the office and ran along the street.
And there he is running along the street all wet and foamy with soap, and behind him, once again, people are running. The boys at the head. Behind them, the grown-ups. Behind the grownups, the policeman. And behind the policeman, our ancient Gav-rilych, dressed harum-scarum, with his boots in his hands.
But at this point that dog leaped out again from some place or other, the very same one who'd been after the monkey the day before.
Having seen this, our monkey thought: "Well, now, citizens, I'm done for once and for all."
But this time the dog didn't go after him. The dog only looked at the fleeing ape, felt a sharp pain in its nose, and stopped running; even turned around. Probably thought: "They don't supply you with noses—running after apes." And although it turned around, it barked angrily: as much as to say, run where you will, I'm staying put.
At this very time our boy, Alesha Popov, returned home from school. He did not find his dear little ape at home. He was terribly roused up about it. And tears even came to his eyes. He thought that now he'd never see his glorious, divine little monkey again.
And so, from boredom and sorrow, he went out on the street. He walks along the street in a melancholy funk. And suddenly he sees—people are running. No, at first he didn't grasp that they were running after his ape. He thought they were running because of an air raid. But at this point he saw his ape—all soapy and wet. He flew toward it. He picked it up in his arms. He hugged it to himself, so as not to give it up.
Then all the people who had been running came and surrounded the boy.
At this point our ancient Gavrilych emerged from the crowd. And exhibiting his bitten finger for all to see, he said: "Citizens, don't let this fellow take my ape in his arms. I want to sell it on the market tomorrow. This is my very own ape, which bit me on
the finger. Just look at this gored finger of mine. And that testifies that I'm telling the truth."
The boy, Alesha Popov, said: "No, this ape isn't his, it's my ape. Look how happily it came to my arms. And this testifies that I'm telling the truth."
But at this point yet another man emerges from the crowd— that very driver who had transported the ape in his vehicle. He says: "No, it's not your ape and it's not yours either. It's my monkey because I transported it. But I'm returning to my unit, so I'm going to give the ape to the one who keeps him kindly in his arms, and not to the one who'd sell him pitilessly on the market for the sake of a few driblets. The ape belongs to the boy."
And at this point the whole audience applauded. And Alesha Popov, beaming with happiness, hugged the ape still more tightly to himself. And triumphantly carried him home.
Gavrilych, with his bitten finger, went to the bathhouse to wash up.
And, so, from that time on, the ape came to live with the boy, Alesha Popov.
He's still living with him. Not long ago I took a trip to the city of Borisov. And I purposely went to Alesha's place to see how the ape was getting on. Oh, it was getting along very well indeed! It didn't run away anywhere. It had become very obedient. Wiped its nose with a handkerchief. Doesn't take candy from strangers. So that even grandma is satisfied now and doesn't get mad at it, and no longer wants to move to the zoo.
When I entered Alesha's room, the ape was sitting on the table. Sitting there with a sense of importance, like a ticket taker at the movies. And was eaing some rice cereal with a teaspoon.
Alesha said to me: "I've educated him like a man, and now all children and even some grown-ups can take him as an example."
AN EXTRAORDINARY EVENT
This past summer I spent my vacation in a house of rest. The manager of our house of rest directed all his fatherly attentions to the diet of those who were resting, quite rightly assuming that a good table would make up for the many shortcomings of his institution.
He had hired an excellent cook who made splendid pirozhki, amazing salads, and cutlets that weren't bad at all. The dessert, prepared by the masterful hand of this cook, always evoked general approval.
For this reason, the vacationers were well disposed and more than once thanked the manager for his model enterprise.
Wishing to please the vacationers even more, the manager once told someone who had come to thank him: "With your permission," he said, "I will turn your excellency over to our cook, Ivan Fomich, who's working away there at the stove. This would undoubtedly encourage him. And that way we'd get even better results."
From the following day, the quality of the dinners really did improve even more. And then the manager, beaming with pleasure, said to the vacationers: "So, you see, the enthusiasm our cook is showing since he received your thanks. And that's just oral thanks —a bird in the sky. I sincerely advise you: compose a letter of praise to the cook. We'll post it on our bulletin board. And then we'll see what will happen."
The vacationers did just that. They posted a letter with five signatures on the bulletin board; in an ardent style they remarked on the outstanding culinary activity of the cook, Ivan Fomich.
At the same time a certain artist among the vacationers drew a handsome frame around the letter, decorated with scrolls, flowers, and laurel leaves.
The effect exceeded the manager's expectations.
The marvelous pirozhki prepared by our cook now literally melted in the mouth. The salads we
re now such that even a man who had eaten his fill went on eating more and more. But the
dessert that day evoked general astonishment mingled with tumultuous enthusiasm.
But one of the vacationers demonstrated special enthusiasm— a young composer who sat at the table beside me. Accurately speaking, he bounced more than he sat. Some kind of released spring simply wouldn't permit his long thin body to sit still.
Behind our table were seated a doctor of philological science and his wife. The philologist was an unusually gaunt and silent person. But his wife more than made up for these defects.
So that, once, while dining, the young composer manifested exceptional enthusiasm, which even approached a kind of frenzy. Everything that was put on the table this time, he praised to an immoderate degree. But when they brought the dessert, he leaped up from his chair and exclaimed, turning to the philologist: "Taste this whipped-cream frosting right away! It's a miracle of the cooking art!"
The doctor of philological science, having tasted the whipped cream, said, "yes," and nodded his head in a sign of assent.
The philologist's wife began to explain to us that this whipped cream really was good and why frosting creams usually were of an inferior quality.
Without waiting to hear her through to the end, the composer once again exclaimed: "No, no, we have still not taken full measure of the great services of our cook! We are duty-bound, time and again, to keep encouraging this divine gift!"
The philologist's wife proposed that a certain sum of money be collected from among the vacationers in order to buy the cook a silver cigarette holder or a section of material for his uniform. The composer, however, exclaimed indignantly: "Och, that wouldn't do at all! Before us is an astonishing master of his craft —an artist! And we should honor him as we would an artist."
And with these words the composer began to applaud.
The diners looked at him with perplexity. And then the composer hastily ran around the tables and in low tones informed everyone that it had now been decided to greet the cook with applause, to arrange an ovation for him.
And Other Stories Of Communist Russia Page 21