The bird's milk. A humorous story with a light touch of satire. Marsel Salimov
all her life consisted of banquets, receptions, and anniversaries. And given nobody was going to fire Kumakaev from that important position, the joyful life of Ziyafat at public expense made her a professional in this matter. Ziyafat-khanum examined everything that had been prepared for the wedding with her full plum eyes, and graciously approved. However, scarcely daring to breathe, Yamiga treaded on her heels and prepared for the worst verdict. And she was right about this. At the end of the inspection, the high-standing in-law Ziyafat suddenly turned to her.
– Everything is good, – she said. – There is everything we need. But where is…
– What? – Yamiga barely uttered.
– Milk! – Ziyafat laughed. – But that's okay.
– No, it isn't! What milk do you need? – Yamiga became obstinate.
– Uh… Well, how is it called? – Ziyafat touched her forehead with her fingers. – In short, I call it the bird's milk. Amodest loves it. But that's okay. It's no use crying for the moon, – and she laughed indulgently.
Yamiga got frozen with her mouth open. The wedding menu, on which they had spent so much effort, began to fall apart in her eyes. The absence of some unknown milk and this offensive laughter seemed to her a catastrophe, and she silently, perplexedly turned to her husband. Without any explanation, Akbar, as hunters say, made a dead-set, clicked his heels in a military manner and rushed out of the house. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. And this, apparently, played its part in the story. Maybe, if Akbar had asked what he had to find, or at least had specified the name of the product, everything would have been different, and he would not have had to go through so many difficulties and adventures. And we are going to tell you about them.
The Keys of Kumakaev
There is an opinion in the in-crowd that a real man should have five keys in his pocket. So, Kumakaev actually had five keys. Certainly, it was too much, but one would sacrifice anything for prestige. Just as the Papuan would not be able to live without rings in his nose and ears, so Kumakaev would not be himself without those keys in his pocket. He would be somebody else.
The first key was the heaviest one, with sharp edges and notches. It means that Kumakaev has a particular position, and it is a big one. Though he does not have an official seal, he has a large safe at his disposal. It does not matter that there are no documents with classified information inside the safe (all the activities of our hero, that is what he does at work, are kept secret, and nobody knows anything about it), but one can find a bottle of cognac there (an ordinary beverage that he keeps in the office safe), jars of Bashkir honey, bottles of Bashkir balm, and other interesting souvenirs, which one can use to uphold popularity among the ladies, like the wife of Akbar, who, as you know, almost fainted from happiness when she heard Kumakaev's name.
The second key – the most widespread in the world. Kumakaev uses it to open his four-room apartment with all the imaginable and unimaginable amenities. You enter this sort of apartment, like some fairy tale (i.e. with pleasure), and you come out with one question in your head – why was the state so generous to Kumakaev? There were the carpeted linoleum on the floor, the mahogany panels, the polished wardrobes built in the walls, as well as tile, parquet, phones, and even massive jugs in the corners, which used to be exhibited in the museum of local lore.
The third key is also of a particular value. It opens the three-storeyed cottage with the attic. Some people compare the cottage of Kumakaev with the palace of famous tsar Gvidon from the Pushkin's fairy tale. But this is very superficial judgment. The funny tsar cannot be even compared to Kumakaev! Gvidon had no water, no electricity, and no elevator. And if one compares their saunas, there is nothing in common at all, except for the birch broom. Besides, after the sauna His Majesty was rushing to the palace in a state of nature, waving aside mosquitoes and catarrhal viruses with whatever was in his hand, while Kumakaev is walking majestically to his chambers through the tiled corridor. But this is not the most important thing. Gvidon cannot be compared to Kumakaev in the sense that tsar paid for all these pleasures from his treasury, while Kumakaev did not spend a penny out of his own money. This is amazing! Compared to this, even Gvidon's squirrel, which was supposedly gnawing nuts with gold shells at his palace, was not that impressive! It is not worth even mentioning. And there are no such nuts in the world. It is nothing but a beautiful myth for fools. Things made of this precious metal cannot impress Kumakaev, as he has quite many of them.
The fourth key was the smallest and the most inconspicuous one, but it was also quite valuable. It was from his new foreign car. Kumakaev had both «Zhiguli» and «Volga», but that was long ago. Those were the mistakes of youth. Everybody makes them. Now, Kumakaev is even ashamed to remember those cars, although, he is not a car enthusiast. He likes neither to drive a car nor to maintain it. Simply, it is impossible for a person of his position not to have a personal foreign car. People will not understand. In fact, Kumakaev likes to drive his official car. Ziyafat and Amodest also like it. Usually, while he is busy, Ziyafat manages to drive around the entire city and to do all the things, and then she gives the «official» to Amodest, who also has many places to be.
And finally, there was the fifth key. It was special. On the one hand, it did not belong to Kumakaev. On the other hand, it was his key. For the last two months, with the help of this key Kumakaev could enjoy the company of Markhaba whenever he wanted. This is a woman, who believes that Kumakaev loves her and will marry her soon. Markhaba reminds many other women, whom Kumakaev knows. Is it the matter of prestige? Yes. Does it mean that he has plenty of energy and time? Yes. Is it the result of bad upbringing? Perhaps, it is so. Indeed, not every man collects his romantic victories, but for self-confidence, one should be sure that Kumakaev considers himself to be irresistible. By the way, he does not even know how old Markhaba is. He is too busy to ask. When she is dressed up, she looks like a twenty-year-old woman, if not, then she looks older than fifty.
Kumakaev thoughtfully uses all five keys. When he is alone in his office, he looks pleased. He only needs to seem serious and respectable in front of people. And why does he need to pretend when he is alone? That's hard to look smart when he does not think about people and their concerns. Now, Kumakaev thinks where to go again to get some air, where and how to have some fun during the upcoming business trip. Indeed, his mind is primarily occupied with his favourite women, who are waiting for him, Kumakaev, in all regions of our great Motherland. He can go there, he can go here… What's the point in listing all the destinations? One cannot even list all the pleasant thoughts and routes in the life of Kumakaev!
The One Who Divides Knows Best
The bird's milk is a product. That's why Akbar went straight to the best restaurant in the city. And he went there not through the front door, like other people, but through the back door, straight to the director's office. The director of the restaurant flinched when he came in, although, at that moment, he was not alone in the office. A man, dressed in the leather jacket, was all over him.
– Are you looking for me? – The director asked.
– Yes, – Akbar said.
– You see that I am busy! Wait outside.
However, Akbar did exactly the opposite thing. He walked to the centre of the office, took off his mink hat, and smiled broadly. The director looked closely at the mink hat, anxiously considered something for a moment, and with one movement of his eyebrows ordered the man in the leather jacket to disappear.
– Welcome! – He said and smiled so glaringly that his eyes turned into two very narrow little slits.
– I am here on business, – Akbar said, having realized that it was entirely useless to ask the owner of these little slits anything directly.
– On business? – The director was astonished. – What business is it?
– Eh… I can deal with any task, – Akbar said vaguely.
– I do not understand you, – the director grew circumspect.
– I saw your advertisement, – Akbar wiggled out. – It said that you were looking for employees.
The director began to stare again at the mink hat of Akbar, then looked