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"Вор". Сергей Махотин
Sergei Makhotin
The thief
I got sick. Mom got time off from work. Dad lost his annual report, and he got fired from his work. That’s why no one was hurrying anywhere. Even grandma. We slowly and sluggishly ate breakfast. Considering, the thief was unlucky, that he chose our apartment.
The lock clicked quietly.
“Neatly done!” complimented dad. “Looks like a person with great experience.”
Mom said, “It would be nice if he would climb the ceiling cabinet. We have so much junk up there!”
“And would take the trash out”, added Grandma, giving me a sideways glance.
In a minute the thief looked into the kitchen. Obviously, he didn’t expect to see so many people there. Sadness overtook him. The thief sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders.
“Why didn’t you take anything?” Mom shook her head.
“Uh, you know, nothing caught my fancy,” the thief confessed.
“You’ve done the trick with the lock skillfully,” praised Dad. “Can you take a look at my briefcase? I lost the key, and I can’t open it.”
The thief took dad’s briefcase and poked a pin into the lock several times. The briefcase swept open.
“The zipper is jammed on Vadik’s jacket,” suddenly remembered Mom.
The thief took my jacket and fixed the zipper.
Grandma brightened up, “Our refrigerator is rumbling loudly. Neighbors are complaining.”
The thief groped something behind the refrigerator, tightened up something there, and it calmed down.
“Here is a cup for you!” said grandma. “Please, join us for tea. And here are the pies with cabbage. Do you like?”
“I do,” nodded the thief. “Only turn away, when I’ll steal the pies.”
“But why would you steal them?“ we were surprised. “Just grab them.”
“Probably it won’t work just like that,” doubted the thief.
He held out his hand to the plate with pies. The hand flinched. We held our breath. The thief closed his eyes tight and finally took the pie. We clapped.
“It worfed!” the thief was rejoicing with the pie in his mouth.
“Found it!” Dad was exulting, when he discovered the annual report in the briefcase.
“Doesn’t hurt!” I was yelling, touching my throat.
I got well. Dad got his work back. The thief-in-past is selling pies with cabbage at the metro station. Of course, they are not quite like those which our grandma is baking, but not too bad. Edible. I tried myself.
The thief
I got sick. Mom got time off from work. Dad lost his annual report, and he got fired from his work. That’s why no one was hurrying anywhere. Even grandma. We slowly and sluggishly ate breakfast. Considering, the thief was unlucky, that he chose our apartment.
The lock clicked quietly.
“Neatly done!” complimented dad. “Looks like a person with great experience.”
Mom said, “It would be nice if he would climb the ceiling cabinet. We have so much junk up there!”
“And would take the trash out”, added Grandma, giving me a sideways glance.
In a minute the thief looked into the kitchen. Obviously, he didn’t expect to see so many people there. Sadness overtook him. The thief sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders.
“Why didn’t you take anything?” Mom shook her head.
“Uh, you know, nothing caught my fancy,” the thief confessed.
“You’ve done the trick with the lock skillfully,” praised Dad. “Can you take a look at my briefcase? I lost the key, and I can’t open it.”
The thief took dad’s briefcase and poked a pin into the lock several times. The briefcase swept open.
“The zipper is jammed on Vadik’s jacket,” suddenly remembered Mom.
The thief took my jacket and fixed the zipper.
Grandma brightened up, “Our refrigerator is rumbling loudly. Neighbors are complaining.”
The thief groped something behind the refrigerator, tightened up something there, and it calmed down.
“Here is a cup for you!” said grandma. “Please, join us for tea. And here are the pies with cabbage. Do you like?”
“I do,” nodded the thief. “Only turn away, when I’ll steal the pies.”
“But why would you steal them?“ we were surprised. “Just grab them.”
“Probably it won’t work just like that,” doubted the thief.
He held out his hand to the plate with pies. The hand flinched. We held our breath. The thief closed his eyes tight and finally took the pie. We clapped.
“It worfed!” the thief was rejoicing with the pie in his mouth.
“Found it!” Dad was exulting, when he discovered the annual report in the briefcase.
“Doesn’t hurt!” I was yelling, touching my throat.
I got well. Dad got his work back. The thief-in-past is selling pies with cabbage at the metro station. Of course, they are not quite like those which our grandma is baking, but not too bad. Edible. I tried myself.
