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Вор
The Burglar
By Sergey Makhotin
Translated by Sophia R.
I was sick in bed, mom had taken the day off, and dad had misplaced his yearly paperwork and was laid off from work, so no one was rushing anywhere, not even grandma. We were slowly and sluggishly eating our breakfast when the burglar quickly and quietly unlocked the door.
“That’s impressive!” said dad, “he clearly has had a lot of practice.”
“Maybe he’ll get in to the attic, we have so much rubbish there,” mom said.
“Let’s hope he takes out the trash as well,” said grandma while giving me a look.
Soon, the burglar looked into the kitchen. He obviously was not expecting to see so many people here. He was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness and sighed deeply.
“Why didn’t you take anything?” said mom while shaking her head.
“Oh, I don’t know, I guess I didn’t really want to,” said the burglar.
“You unlocked our door expertly! Any chance you could take a look at my briefcase? The lock won’t unlock,” dad said.
The burglar took dad’s briefcase, poked at the lock with a safety pin, and the briefcase popped open.
“The zipper on Benji’s coat is stuck, could you please see if you can get it moving again?” asked my mom.
The burglar took my coat and fixed the zipper.
Grandma became excited. “Our refrigerator has been making horrid noises, maybe you can fix it?”
The burglar reached his hand behind the refrigerator, tightened something and the refrigerator quieted down.
“Come sit down!” said grandma. “Here is some tea, and do you like savory pies?”
“I love them,” the burglar nodded, “please look away while I steal them.”
“Why would you steal them?” we exclaimed. “Just take them!”
“I’m not sure if I can do that!” he said.
He slowly stretched his hand toward the plate. As his hand neared the plate, it began to shake. We held our breath. He stopped for a second, then quickly grabbed a pie.
We began clapping.
“I dith ith!” The Burglar shouted with his mouth full.
“I found my yearly paperwork in the briefcase!” dad exclaimed happily.
“My throat doesn’t hurt anymore,” I said.
I felt better again and dad got his job back. And the burglar? Well, he’s now selling savory pies on the corner near the station. Not as good as grandma’s of course, but not bad either. I know; I tried them myself.
By Sergey Makhotin
Translated by Sophia R.
I was sick in bed, mom had taken the day off, and dad had misplaced his yearly paperwork and was laid off from work, so no one was rushing anywhere, not even grandma. We were slowly and sluggishly eating our breakfast when the burglar quickly and quietly unlocked the door.
“That’s impressive!” said dad, “he clearly has had a lot of practice.”
“Maybe he’ll get in to the attic, we have so much rubbish there,” mom said.
“Let’s hope he takes out the trash as well,” said grandma while giving me a look.
Soon, the burglar looked into the kitchen. He obviously was not expecting to see so many people here. He was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness and sighed deeply.
“Why didn’t you take anything?” said mom while shaking her head.
“Oh, I don’t know, I guess I didn’t really want to,” said the burglar.
“You unlocked our door expertly! Any chance you could take a look at my briefcase? The lock won’t unlock,” dad said.
The burglar took dad’s briefcase, poked at the lock with a safety pin, and the briefcase popped open.
“The zipper on Benji’s coat is stuck, could you please see if you can get it moving again?” asked my mom.
The burglar took my coat and fixed the zipper.
Grandma became excited. “Our refrigerator has been making horrid noises, maybe you can fix it?”
The burglar reached his hand behind the refrigerator, tightened something and the refrigerator quieted down.
“Come sit down!” said grandma. “Here is some tea, and do you like savory pies?”
“I love them,” the burglar nodded, “please look away while I steal them.”
“Why would you steal them?” we exclaimed. “Just take them!”
“I’m not sure if I can do that!” he said.
He slowly stretched his hand toward the plate. As his hand neared the plate, it began to shake. We held our breath. He stopped for a second, then quickly grabbed a pie.
We began clapping.
“I dith ith!” The Burglar shouted with his mouth full.
“I found my yearly paperwork in the briefcase!” dad exclaimed happily.
“My throat doesn’t hurt anymore,” I said.
I felt better again and dad got his job back. And the burglar? Well, he’s now selling savory pies on the corner near the station. Not as good as grandma’s of course, but not bad either. I know; I tried them myself.
