" Excuse, madam, I have pushed you unintentionally. Over this city close is triumphed with the Rush hour... The Cellar of my fault has already opened and that somehow him to cover, I shall tell to you a ridiculous history. Such ridiculous - ridiculous history, that you will forget at once about trifles, and, perhaps, about large parts of lives...
... The mouse ordinary has returned to apartments, as always, in a condition of spirit. Without a condition of spirit he did not come back also a door, to usage, did not knock out – she was not. Doors was not, the conditioner did not work, and only pleasant appetite was in standard and regularly sparkled pale.
The mouse hungry was prolonged with a food question in the senate, on what the senate was easy rested and has spitefully grinned. Not dropping optimism, the mouse skilful has unscrewed the battery of steam heating was able and has warmed up a pair of erotic muddy sandwiches. The refrigerator with a brand of the agent of egocentrizm on a forehead has openly declared: " do not dare to blow perpetuum from a mobile! I shall fill to you a underground! "
The TV with a physiognomy of a washstand has not taken out sincere torments and has flashed blue fires and automatic turns. Bullets have rounded the air balls joyfully singing under a ceiling; have walked on a wardrobe - the case has become covered by nice hematomas - and have departed to neighbours to Baranki. The Baranki Gnu have come running quickly. (Yesterday they came front solemn step.)
" Wouit Spiritovith! - have squeaked the Baranki Gnu, scratching through apertures, - you when a TV set include, alarm include, please! " " All right - all right! - has waved away the mouse impossible, - Leave us one!, by the way, I today not Wait Spirtovith, and Molybdenum Tungsten! " The Baranki Gnu from indignation have stiffened, have glazed over and eventually have hardened...
All this occured during the certain time determined by rather uncertain quantity and quality of contents of glasswares of the certain form, full
by strictly certain subject - your obedient the servant, alas... Alas! The mouse big-bellied cannot be your obedient the servant. He - the mouse - can feel sick of a pig, a sheep, a horse, but illness of Obedient Servant - never! You hear? Never!
Killed by drunk contents, the mouse shaggy has fallen in a hammock and has closed eyes. And in his mouse head poetic lines, so conformable to ideas the Saint Abudaba were born:
Snow... And fur-trees
Green with white.
Under the dark blue sky
I eat bacon with bread.
Light of the sun scarlet
Burns wearily.
It is a pity - was a little.
Where was gone?
Such... Bacon!
The mouse ingenious a chisel has beaten out the poem at itself on a forehead and has easy fallen asleep. It is shaky - shakily the nightmare ¹29 has dreamed it: the Nightmare stood on curve thin legs and frequently - frequently blinked a black eye.
... Above the Baranki Gnu who recently have hardened, have thoroughly worked erosion. Under action: a rain and a wind, heat and a cold, grief and pleasure, a leaf fall and Rolling Stones, a typhoon and the tsunami, these marble slices have turned to beach sand.
Sometimes, at times, during any moment, having put ears on sand, you can (or cannot) to hear their tiresome lamentations. Boring people!
Boring people. They do not hear songs of the in love refrigerator in night. In love with the contents. " Thru-thru! " - would think of this occasion the mouse musical, would beat off a step, and then very quietly would disappear in a fog in rate of a waltz.
You ask: " That happened with this strange mouse further? " - " anything especial! Lives and idles! " " And it is very good! " - you will tell to me. " It is good very much! " - I shall tell to you, and we we scatter in the different sides that it is more never my square teapot have collided(faced) your fine carafe, excuse, madam! "
EPILOGUE
After a bell of the unknown woman in competent bodies, a lunatic from an apartment ¹8888 have taken away on a diesel locomotive of first aid. The head physician of the Main Madhouse still long wandered on a strange apartment and stumbled. Here all was strange: a refrigerator crying in a corner; the air balls cheerfully singing under a ceiling; a case covered with figured bruises in style of a baroque and this TV with a physiognomy of a washstand on the person.
" It is interesting, and what there on the first channel? " - the Head physician of the Main Madhouse has thought and has pressed the button...
Streams of the water, washed off the Main Madhouse, were terribly cold and, at first sight, are infinite. However, and at the second sight - too. All have found him - years through fifty. Strongly looked younger. As always - not there where searched. Anybody did not assume, that he will train for a new profession in horse doctor and will raise cactuses! Excuse, madam, the epilogue is infinite. "