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Скромный
"Humble"
By Ася Кравченко (Asya Kravchenko)
Once upon a time there lived a king. He was an ordinary king, not very different from any other kings in the world.
But he knew that he was unusual. And he really wanted everyone to know that.
And why wouldn't they give him some unusual name? But his subjects simply called him "Ours."
"Have you seen Ours? Pink bows on green pants? Do people actually wear that nowadays?"
The king worried, "if only they had these bows!"
"Ours made a scene, have you heard? He got up in the middle of a meeting, climbed onto a chair and began to read poetry. Had no sense, no rhyme! Strange poems they were..."
"What does poetry have to do with this?" the king mused angrily.
"Something is not enough for Ours..."
"You've all gotten me fed up!" shouted the king, grabbing his grandfather King George's bust and threw it on the floor. The bust struck and went through the floor.
"Can you imagine, after Ours threw the bust into Karl (this is the king's neighbor from below) Karl began to stutter."
Then the king spat at them all and decided not to show himself again.
"It seems that we had a monarch," the king's subjects began to worry a week later.
"Remember how he loved poetry and was so unpredictable?"
"Where is he now?"
"There was something in him, I knew it."
Here the king could not stand it any longer and came out.
"Long live the king!" everyone cried.
And the king said, "Here I stand in front of you. I have two royal hands, two royal legs and a big royal soul."
Here everyone almost cried. And they began to call him Humble.
"Well, at least that's better," nodded Our Humble.
By Ася Кравченко (Asya Kravchenko)
Once upon a time there lived a king. He was an ordinary king, not very different from any other kings in the world.
But he knew that he was unusual. And he really wanted everyone to know that.
And why wouldn't they give him some unusual name? But his subjects simply called him "Ours."
"Have you seen Ours? Pink bows on green pants? Do people actually wear that nowadays?"
The king worried, "if only they had these bows!"
"Ours made a scene, have you heard? He got up in the middle of a meeting, climbed onto a chair and began to read poetry. Had no sense, no rhyme! Strange poems they were..."
"What does poetry have to do with this?" the king mused angrily.
"Something is not enough for Ours..."
"You've all gotten me fed up!" shouted the king, grabbing his grandfather King George's bust and threw it on the floor. The bust struck and went through the floor.
"Can you imagine, after Ours threw the bust into Karl (this is the king's neighbor from below) Karl began to stutter."
Then the king spat at them all and decided not to show himself again.
"It seems that we had a monarch," the king's subjects began to worry a week later.
"Remember how he loved poetry and was so unpredictable?"
"Where is he now?"
"There was something in him, I knew it."
Here the king could not stand it any longer and came out.
"Long live the king!" everyone cried.
And the king said, "Here I stand in front of you. I have two royal hands, two royal legs and a big royal soul."
Here everyone almost cried. And they began to call him Humble.
"Well, at least that's better," nodded Our Humble.
