Page 9 of 10

The proud young girl flies far, far away!

The next morning, the Kid slept for a long time. He was awakened by a phone call and ran to the hall to pick up the phone. Mom called.

Poor son ... Oh, how awful ...

What's awful? - asked the Kid, sleepily.

Everything that you write in your letter. I'm so worried about you ...

Why? - asked the Kid.

You understand, - said my mother. - My poor boy ... Tomorrow morning I will come home.

The kid was delighted and cheered up, although he did not understand why his mother called him "my poor boy." As soon as the Kid had time to lie down again and doze off, the bell rang again. Dad called from London.

How are you? Dad asked. - Are Bossé and Bethan behaving well?

I don’t think, - said the Kid, - but I don’t know for sure, because they are in an epidemic.

The kid realized that dad was alarmed by his words.

Are they in epidemics? What do you want to say?

And when the Kid explained what he wanted to say, dad repeated his mother's words:

My poor boy ... Tomorrow morning I'll be home.

The conversation ended there. But soon the phone rang again. This time it was Boss.

You can tell the housewife and her old doctor that, although they imagine themselves to be experts, we still do not have scarlet fever. Bethan and I will be home tomorrow.

Isn't your ooze? - asked the Kid.

Imagine no. We just ate something, the local doctor said. Some people also get rashes from this.

A typical case of cuddly fever, I see, ”said Tiny.

But Boss had already hung up.

The kid got dressed and went to the kitchen to tell Miss Bok that he no longer needed to be isolated. She was already preparing breakfast. The kitchen smelled strongly of spices.

And I can leave, - said Miss Bok, when the Kid told her that tomorrow the whole family would be gathered. “That's good, otherwise I’ll completely ruin my nerves.

She was madly stirring something in a saucepan on the stove. It turned out that some kind of thick meat sauce was being cooked there, and she seasoned it with salt, pepper and some herbs.

You see, ”she said,“ you have to salt it and pepper it properly, and cook it a little longer, only then it’s delicious. ” Then she looked anxiously at the Kid. - Do you think this awful Carlson will fly again today? So I would like to calmly spend the last hours in your home.

Before the Kid could answer, a cheerful song was heard outside the window, which someone sang at the top of his voice:

Sun, sun

Look in the window!

Carlson was sitting on the windowsill again.

Hey! This is your sun, don't worry.

But then Miss Bok stretched out her hands in prayer:

No, no, no, I beg you, whatever, but today we need peace.

Peace, but how! But first of all we need, of course, breakfast, - said Carlson and in one jump he was at the kitchen table.

There Miss Bok has already put the instruments for herself and the Kid. Carlson sat down in front of one of them and picked up a knife and fork.

Begin! Let's have breakfast! - He nodded affably Miss Bok. - You can also sit down with us at the table. Get yourself a plate and come here.

He flared his nostrils and inhaled the spicy scent.

What will they give us? he asked, licking his lips.

A good thrashing, - answered Miss Bok and even more furiously began to stir the sauce. - You, in any case, deserve it. But my whole body aches so much that I'm afraid I won't be able to chase after you today.

She poured the sauce into a bowl and set it on the table.

Eat, she said. - And I will wait until you: finish, because the doctor said that I need complete rest while eating.

Carlson nodded sympathetically.

Well, yes, in the house, there are probably a few overlaid croutons that you can chew on when we are done with everything on the table. Sit back on the edge of the table and chew, enjoying the peace and quiet.

And he hastily served himself a plateful of thick meat sauce. But the Kid took quite a bit. He was always wary of new dishes, he had never eaten with such a sauce.

Karlsson began to build a tower out of meat, and around the tower a fortress moat filled with sauce. While he was doing this, the Kid carefully tasted a bite. Ouch! He gasped, tears came to his eyes. The mouth burned with fire. But Freken Bok stood next to her and looked at him with such a look that he just took a breath and said nothing.

Then Carlson broke away from his fortress:

What's the matter? Why are you crying?

I… I remembered one sad thing, - stammered the Kid.

I see, - said Carlson and sent a huge chunk of his tower into his mouth. But as soon as he swallowed it, he screamed in a voice that was not his own, and tears also spilled from his eyes.

What happened? - asked Miss Bok.

It tastes like fox poison ... However, you yourself know better what you put here, - said Carlson. - Take the big hose quickly, I have a fire in my throat! - He wiped away his tears.

What are you crying about? - asked the Kid.

I also remembered a very sad thing, - answered Carlson.

Which one? - the Kid asked curiously.

This meat sauce, - said Carlson.

But this whole conversation did not please Miss Bok.

Ashamed of you, boys! Tens of thousands of children in the world would be just happy to receive at least a little of this sauce.

Carlson put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a pencil and notebook.

Please dictate to me the names and addresses of at least two of those thousands, ”he asked.

But Miss Bok did not want to give the address.

Probably, we are talking about little savages from the tribe of fire-eaters, everything is clear, - said Carlson. - All their life they do nothing but swallow fire and sulfur.

Just at that moment the doorbell rang, and Miss Bok went to open it.

Let's go see who came, - Carlson suggested. - Perhaps this is one of those thousands of little fire-eaters who are ready to give everything they have for this fiery mess.

We need to be on the alert, what if she is cheap ... She put so much fox poison in there, and he has no price!

And Carlson went after Miss Bok, and the Kid did not want to leave him behind. They stood in the hall behind her and heard an unfamiliar voice say:

My surname is Pyok. I am an employee of Swedish radio and television.

The kid felt that he was getting cold. He carefully looked out from behind Miss Bok's skirt and saw that some gentleman was standing at the door - one of those handsome, intelligent and moderately well-fed men in the prime of his life, about whom Miss Bok said that they could be a pond on television ...

Can I see Miss Hildur Bok? - asked Mr. Pyok.

It's me, - answered Miss Bok. “But I paid for both radio and television, so you have nothing to check.

Mr. Pyok smiled graciously.

I didn’t come for payment, ”he explained. - No, I was brought here by the ghost story you wrote to us about ... We would like to make a new program based on this material.

Freken Bok blushed deeply; she could not utter a word.

What is wrong with you? - Mr. Pyok broke the silence at last.

Yes, yes, I'm not feeling well, - picked up Miss Bok. - This is the most terrible moment in my life.

The kid stood behind her and felt about the same as she did. Righteous God, that's it! In a few seconds, this Pyok will surely notice Carlson, and when mom and dad return home tomorrow morning, they will see that the whole house is entangled in different cables, packed with television cameras and such gentlemen, and they will understand that they will not wait for peace. Oh righteous God, we must immediately remove Carlson by any means.

Then the Kid's gaze fell on an old wooden box that stood in the hallway and in which Begai kept homemade theatrical costumes, old props and similar stuff. Together with the guys from her class, she organized some kind of stupid club: in their free time, they changed into strange costumes and acted out ridiculous scenes. All this, in the opinion of the Kid, was very stupid, but they called it playing in the theater. But now this box with suits turned out to be very useful here! .. The kid opened its lid and whispered excitedly to Carlson:

Hide! .. Get into this box here! Quicker!

And before Carlson could understand why he should hide, he already realized that it smells like some kind of leprosy. He looked slyly at the Kid and climbed into the drawer. The kid quickly put the lid on it. Then he looked in dismay at those two who were still standing in the doorway ... Did they have time to notice anything?

But they did not notice anything, so they were absorbed in their conversation. Freken Bock was just explaining to Mr. Peck why she felt bad.

It was not a ghost, - said Miss Bok, with difficulty holding back her tears. “It was nothing but disgusting childish pranks.

So there weren't any ghosts? - Mr. Pyok asked in disappointment.

Freken Bok could no longer hold back her tears - she burst into tears.

No, there were no ghosts ... And I will not be able to appear on television ... never, only Frida! ..

Mr. Pyok patted her hand to calm her down:

Don't take it so personally, dear Miss Bok. Who knows, you may also have to perform.

No, no, all hopes are dashed ... - said Miss Bok and, covering her face with her hands, sank onto the box with suits.

So she sat for a long time, sobbing inconsolably. The kid felt sorry for her, and he was ashamed, because he felt guilty of everything. And suddenly a soft rumbling was heard from the box.

Oh sorry! - said the embarrassed Miss Bok. - I probably have it out of hunger.

Yes, there is always a grumble in my stomach with hunger, - Mr. Pöck kindly confirmed, - but your breakfast must be ready: I ​​can hear such an amazing aroma. What do you have for breakfast today? - Mr. Pyok was curious.

Ah, just meat sauce ... A dish of my invention ... "Sauce according to the Hildur Bock recipe" - that's what I called it, - Freken Bock answered modestly but with dignity and sighed.

It smells extremely tasty, - said Mr. Pyok. - Just whet your appetite.

Freken Bok got up from the box.

Have a taste, please ... And these stupid little ones still turn up their nose, - she added offendedly.

Mr. Pyok was a little ceremonious - he kept repeating that he was, they say, embarrassed - but the matter ended with the fact that they retired to the kitchen together.

The kid lifted the lid and looked at Carlson, who, comfortably sitting on his suits, hummed softly.

I beg you, lie still until he leaves, - whispered the Kid, - otherwise you will get on the TV.

Well, yes, it's easy for you to say, - said Carlson. “It's no less cramped and stuffy here than in that box, so now I have nothing to lose.

Then the Kid opened the lid of the box slightly so that air could penetrate there, and rushed to the kitchen. He wanted to see what Mr. Peck would look like when he tasted Freken Bock.

It’s hard to believe, but Mr. Pyok calmly sat at the table and ate for two, as if he hadn’t had a chance to eat anything tastier in his entire life. And there were no tears in his eyes. But at Miss Bok they rolled like hail, but, of course, not because of the sauce.

No, no, she just continued to mourn the failure of her television show. And even the praise that Mr. Pyok so generously lavished on her fiery dish could not comfort her. She felt infinitely unhappy.

But then something completely unexpected happened. Mr. Pyok suddenly stared at the ceiling and exclaimed:

Invented! Invented! You will be performing tomorrow night!

Freken Bok raised her tear-stained eyes to him.

Where will I be performing tomorrow night? she asked grimly.

As where? On the TV! - said Mr. Pyok. - In the program "Skillful Culinary". You will tell all Swedes how to make Hildur Bock Sauce ...

And then Miss Bok lost consciousness and crashed to the floor. But soon she came to her senses and jumped to her feet. Her eyes were shining.

You say tomorrow night ... On TV? My sauce ... Will I tell the whole Swedish people about it on TV? Oh my God! .. Just think! And Frida doesn't understand anything about cooking, she says that only pigs can be fed with my food!

The kid listened with bated breath, because all this was very interesting to him. He almost forgot about Carlson, hidden in the box. But then suddenly, to his great horror, a creak was heard in the hallway. Well, yes, that was to be expected ... Carlson! The door from the kitchen was ajar, and the Kid saw that Carlson was walking around the hallway. But neither Miss Bok nor Mr. Pyok noticed anything yet.

Yes, it was Carlson! And at the same time, not Carlson! .. Good God, who did he look like in Bethan's old fancy dress! He was wearing a long velvet skirt that got tangled in his legs, making it difficult to walk, and two tulle capes: one decorated him in the front, the other in the back! He seemed like a small, round, lively girl. And this little lively girl approached the kitchen inexorably.

The kid in despair made signs that Carlson did not go to the kitchen, but he seemed not to understand them, only nodded in response and came closer and closer.

A proud young girl enters the ceremonial hall! - said Carlson and froze in the doorway, playing with his capes.

He looked such that Mr. Pyok opened his eyes wide:

Fathers, who is this? .. What is this cute girl?

But then Miss Bok screamed:

Pretty Girl! No, sorry, this is not a cute girl, but the most disgusting tomboy I have ever seen in my life! Get out now, you trashy boy! But Carlson did not listen to her.

A proud young girl dancing and having fun, - he continued his.

And he started dancing. The Kid had never seen such a dance before, yes, one must think that Mr. Pyok too.

Carlson ran through the kitchen, knees raised high. From time to time he jumped up and flapped his tulle capes.

What a stupid dance, thought the Kid. - But that's all right, if only he did not try to fly. Oh, if only he didn't fly! "

Carlson covered himself with capes so that the propeller was not visible at all, which made the Kid very happy. If he nevertheless suddenly flies up to the ceiling, then Mr. Pyok will surely faint, and then, barely recovering from his senses, he will send people with television cameras here.

Mr. Pyok looked at this strange dance and laughed, laughed louder and louder. Then Carlson, too, began to giggle in response, and even wink at Mr. Peck when he rushed past him, waving his capes.

What a funny boy! - Mr. Pyok exclaimed. - He probably could participate in some children's show.

Nothing could anger Miss Bok any more.

Will he appear on television ?! Then I will ask you to release me from this case. If you want to find someone to turn a television studio upside down, then there is no better candidate.

The kid nodded.

Yes it's true. And when this studio turns upside down, he will say: "It's nothing, it's a matter of everyday life." So you better beware of it!

Mr. Pyok did not insist.

If so, don't. I just suggested. There are a lot of boys! ..

And Mr. Pyok suddenly hurried. It turns out that he has a transfer soon, and he has to go.

But then the Kid saw that Carlson was feeling the button on his stomach, and was scared to death that everything would be clarified at the last minute.

No, Carlson ... no, don't, - whispered to him in alarm the Kid.

Carlson with an imperturbable look continued to look for the button, it was difficult for him to get to it because of all these tulle capes.

Mister Pöck was already standing in the doorway when Carlson's motor suddenly hummed.

I didn’t know that a helicopter route passes over Wazastan, ”said Mr. Pyok. “I don’t think they should fly here, this noise disturbs many. Goodbye, Miss Bok. Till tomorrow!

And Mr. Pyok left.

And Carlson soared to the ceiling, made several circles, flew around the lamp and waved goodbye to Miss Bok with tulle capes.

The proud young girl flies far, far away! he shouted. - Hi gay gay!

The proud young girl flies far, far away!

The next morning, the Kid slept for a long time. He was awakened by a phone call and ran to the hall to pick up the phone. Mom called.
- Poor son ... Oh, how awful ...
- What's awful? - asked the Kid, sleepily.
- Everything that you write in your letter. I'm so worried about you ...
- Why? - asked the Kid.
“You understand yourself,” Mom said. - My poor boy ... Tomorrow morning I will come home.
The kid was delighted and cheered up, although he did not understand why his mother called him "my poor boy." As soon as the Kid had time to lie down again and doze off, the bell rang again. Dad called from London.
- How are you? Dad asked. - Are Bossé and Bethan behaving well?
“I don’t think so,” said the Kid, “but I don’t know for sure, because they are in an epidemic.
The kid realized that dad was alarmed by his words.
- Are they in epidemics? What do you want to say?
And when the Kid explained what he wanted to say, dad repeated his mother's words:
- My poor boy ... Tomorrow morning I'll be home.
The conversation ended there. But soon the phone rang again. This time it was Boss.
- You can tell the housewife and her old doctor that, although they imagine themselves to be experts, we still do not have scarlet fever. Bethan and I will be home tomorrow.
- Do you have mud? - asked the Kid.
- Imagine, no. We just ate something, the local doctor said. Some people also get rashes from this.
“I see, a typical case of cuddly fever,” Tiny said.
But Boss had already hung up.
The kid got dressed and went to the kitchen to tell Miss Bok that he no longer needed to be isolated. She was already preparing breakfast. The kitchen smelled strongly of spices.
“And I can leave,” Miss Bok said when the Kid told her that the whole family would be gathered tomorrow. - That's good, otherwise I'll ruin my nerves completely.
She was madly stirring something in a saucepan on the stove. It turned out that some kind of thick meat sauce was being cooked there, and she seasoned it with salt, pepper and some herbs.
“You see,” she said, “you have to salt it and pepper it properly, and cook it a little longer, only then it’s delicious.” Then she looked anxiously at the Kid. - Do you think this awful Carlson will fly again today? So I would like to calmly spend the last hours in your home.
Before the Kid could answer, a cheerful song was heard outside the window, which someone sang at the top of his voice:
Sun, sun
Look in the window!
Carlson was sitting on the windowsill again.
- Hey! This is your sun, don't worry.
But then Miss Bok stretched out her hands in prayer:

No, no, no, I beg you, whatever, but today we need peace.
- Peace, but how! But first of all we need, of course, breakfast, - said Carlson and in one jump he was at the kitchen table.
There Miss Bok has already put the instruments for herself and the Kid. Carlson sat down in front of one of them and picked up a knife and fork.
- Begin! Let's have breakfast! - He nodded affably Miss Bok. - You can also sit down with us at the table. Get yourself a plate and come here.
He flared his nostrils and inhaled the spicy scent.

What will they give us? he asked, licking his lips.
- A good thrashing, - answered Miss Bok and even more furiously began to stir the sauce. - You, in any case, deserve it. But my whole body aches so much that I'm afraid I won't be able to chase after you today.
She poured the sauce into a bowl and set it on the table.
“Eat,” she said. - And I will wait until you: finish, because the doctor said that I need complete rest while eating.
Carlson nodded sympathetically.
- Well, yes, in the house there will probably be a few overlaid croutons that you can chew on when we are done with everything on the table. Sit back on the edge of the table and chew, enjoying the peace and quiet.
And he hastily served himself a plateful of thick meat sauce. But the Kid took quite a bit. He was always wary of new dishes, he had never eaten with such a sauce.

Karlsson began to build a tower out of meat, and around the tower a fortress moat filled with sauce. While he was doing this, the Kid carefully tasted a bite. Ouch! He gasped, tears came to his eyes. The mouth burned with fire. But Freken Bok stood next to her and looked at him with such a look that he just took a breath and said nothing.
Then Carlson broke away from his fortress:
- What's the matter? Why are you crying?
“I… I remembered one sad thing,” the Kid stammered.
- I see, - said Carlson and sent a huge chunk of his tower into his mouth. But as soon as he swallowed it, he screamed in a voice that was not his own, and tears also spilled from his eyes.

What happened? - asked Miss Bok.
- It tastes like fox poison ... However, you yourself know better what you put here, - said Carlson. - Take the big hose quickly, I have a fire in my throat! - He wiped away his tears.
- What are you crying about? - asked the Kid.
- I also remembered a very sad thing, - answered Carlson.
- Which one? - the Kid asked curiously.
“This meat sauce,” said Carlson.
But this whole conversation did not please Miss Bok.
- How ashamed you, boys! Tens of thousands of children in the world would be just happy to receive at least a little of this sauce.
Carlson put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a pencil and notebook.
“Please dictate to me the names and addresses of at least two of those thousands,” he asked.
But Miss Bok did not want to give the address.
- Probably, we are talking about little savages from the tribe of fire-eaters, everything is clear, - said Carlson. - All their life they do nothing but swallow fire and sulfur.
Just at that moment the doorbell rang, and Miss Bok went to open it.
- Let's go see who came, - offered Carlson. - Perhaps this is one of those thousands of little fire-eaters who are ready to give everything they have for this fiery mess.

We need to be on the alert, what if she is cheap ... She put so much fox poison in there, and he has no price!
And Carlson went after Miss Bok, and the Kid did not want to leave him behind. They stood in the hall behind her and heard an unfamiliar voice say:
- My surname is Pyok. I am an employee of Swedish radio and television.
The kid felt that he was getting cold. He carefully looked out from behind Miss Bok's skirt and saw that some gentleman was standing at the door - one of those handsome, intelligent and moderately well-fed men in the prime of his life, about whom Miss Bok said that they could be a pond on television ...
- Can I see Miss Hildur Bok? - asked Mr. Pyok.
- It's me, - answered Miss Bok. “But I paid for both radio and television, so you have nothing to check.
Mr. Pyok smiled graciously.
“I didn’t come in connection with payment,” he explained. - No, I was brought here by the ghost story you wrote to us about ... We would like to make a new program based on this material.

Freken Bok blushed deeply; she could not utter a word.
- What is wrong with you? - Mr. Pyok broke the silence at last.
- Yes, yes, I'm not well, - picked up Miss Bok. - This is the most terrible moment in my life.
The kid stood behind her and felt about the same as she did. Righteous God, that's it! In a few seconds, this Pyok will surely notice Carlson, and when mom and dad return home tomorrow morning, they will see that the whole house is entangled in different cables, packed with television cameras and such gentlemen, and they will understand that they will not wait for peace. Oh righteous God, we must immediately remove Carlson by any means.
Then the Kid's gaze fell on an old wooden box that stood in the hallway and in which Begai kept homemade theatrical costumes, old props and similar stuff. Together with the guys from her class, she organized some kind of stupid club: in their free time, they changed into strange costumes and acted out ridiculous scenes. All this, in the opinion of the Kid, was very stupid, but they called it playing in the theater. But now this box with suits turned out to be very useful here! .. The kid opened its lid and whispered excitedly to Carlson:
- Hide! .. Get into this box! Quicker!

And before Carlson could understand why he should hide, he already realized that it smells like some kind of leprosy. He looked slyly at the Kid and climbed into the drawer. The kid quickly put the lid on it. Then he looked in dismay at those two who were still standing in the doorway ... Did they have time to notice anything?
But they did not notice anything, so they were absorbed in their conversation. Freken Bock was just explaining to Mr. Peck why she felt bad.
“It was not a ghost,” said Miss Bok, with difficulty holding back her tears. “It was nothing but disgusting childish pranks.
- So, then, there were no ghosts? - Mr. Pyok asked in disappointment.
Freken Bok could no longer hold back her tears - she burst into tears.

Page 7 of 10

Little ghost from Wazastan

The day for the Kid dragged on indefinitely, he spent it all alone and could not wait for the evening in any way.

Sounds like Christmas Eve, he thought. He played with Bimbo, fiddled with stamps, and even did a little arithmetic to keep up with the kids in class. And when Christer was supposed to return from school, according to his calculations, he called him on the phone and told him about scarlet fever.

I can't go to school because I was isolated, you know?

It sounded very tempting - the Kid himself thought so, and Christer, apparently, also thought so, because he did not even immediately find what to answer.

Aren't you bored? Christer asked when his speech returned.

Well what are you! I do have ... - began the Kid, but then stopped short.

He wanted to say: "Carlson", but did not do it because of dad. True, last spring Christer and Gunilla saw Carlson several times, but that was before dad said that he should not be talked about with anyone in the world.

“Maybe Christer and Gunilla have long forgotten about him, that would be good! - thought the Kid. "Then he would become my personal secret Carlson." And the Kid hurried to say goodbye to Christer.

Hi, I don't have time to talk to you now, ”he said.

It was quite boring to have dinner together with Miss Bok, but she made delicious meatballs. The kid ate for two. For sweet, he got an apple casserole with vanilla sauce. And he thought that Miss Bok might not be so bad.

"The best thing about the housewife is apple casserole, and the best thing about apple casserole is vanilla sauce, and the best thing about vanilla sauce is that I eat it," thought the Kid.

And yet it was not a fun dinner, because there were so many empty seats at the table. The kid missed mom, dad, Boss and Bethan - all together and each separately. No, the dinner was completely unhappy, and besides, Miss Bok was chatting incessantly about Frida, who had already become pretty boring for the Kid.

But then evening came. It was autumn, and it was getting dark early. The kid stood at the window of his room, pale with excitement, and looked at the stars twinkling above the rooftops. He waited. It was worse than Christmas Eve. On Christmas Eve, too, you get tired of waiting, but how can this be compared with waiting for the arrival of a little ghost from Vazastan! .. Where there! The kid chewed his nails impatiently. He knew that up there, Carlson was also waiting. Freken Bock has long been sitting in the kitchen with her feet in a basin of water - she always takes long foot baths. But then she will come to the Kid to wish him good night, she promised that. This is where the signal should be given. And then - oh righteous God, as Miss Bok always said, - oh righteous God, how exciting it was!

If she is not there for a long time, I will burst with impatience, - muttered the Kid.

But then she appeared. First of all, the Kid saw her big, cleanly washed bare feet in the doorway. The kid trembled like a caught fish, so he was scared, although he was waiting for her and knew that she would come now. Freken Bok looked at him gloomily.

Why are you standing in your pajamas by the open window? Immediately march to bed!

I… I gazed at the stars, ”the Kid muttered. - And you, Miss Bok, do not want to look at them?

He cheated so much to force her to go to the window, and he immediately unnoticed put his hand on the floor of the curtain behind which the cord was hidden, and pulled it with all his might. He heard a bell ringing on the roof. Miss Bok heard it too.

Somewhere up there, a bell is ringing, ”she said. - How strange!

Yes, strange! - agreed the Kid. But then he just took his breath away, because a small, white, round ghost suddenly separated from the roof and slowly flew across the dark sky. His flight was accompanied by quiet and sad music. Yes, there could be no mistake, the mournful sounds of "Crying a baby ghost" announced the dark autumn night.

Here ... Oh, look, look ... Righteous God! - exclaimed Miss Bok.

She turned white as a sheet, her legs buckled and she plopped down on a chair. And she also assured that she was not afraid of ghosts!

The kid tried to calm her down.

Yes, now I'm starting to believe in ghosts too, ”he said. - But this is so small, it cannot be dangerous!

However, Miss Bok did not listen to the Kid. Her distraught eyes were fixed on the window as she watched the bizarre flight of the ghost.

Take it away! Take away! she whispered breathlessly.

But the little ghost from Wazastan could not be removed. It circled in the night, receded, approached again, then soaring up, then descending below, and from time to time did a little somersault in the air. And the sad sounds did not cease for a moment.

"A little white ghost, a dark starry sky, sad music - how beautiful and interesting all this is!" - thought the Kid.

But Miss Bok didn't think so. She clung to the Kid:

Hurry to the bedroom, we'll hide there!

The Swanteson family's apartment had five rooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, and an entrance hall. Boss, Bethan and Tiny had their own rooms, Mom and Dad slept in the bedroom, and there was also a dining room where they all got together. Now that Mom and Dad were away, Miss Bok slept in their room. Her window overlooked the garden, and the window of the Kid's room - to the street.

Come on, - whispered Miss Bok, still panting, - let's go, we'll hide in the bedroom.

The kid resisted: you can't allow everything to break down now, after such a successful start! But Miss Bok stubbornly stood her ground:

Well, live, or I'll faint now! And no matter how the Kid resisted, he had to drag himself into the bedroom. The window was open there too, but Miss Bok rushed to it and closed it with a crash. Then she pulled down the curtains, drew the curtains, and tried to barricade the door with furniture. It was clear that she had lost all desire to deal with a ghost, and after all, until recently, she had not dreamed of anything else.

The kid could not understand this in any way, he sat down on his father's bed, looked at the frightened Miss Bok and shook his head.

And Frida is probably not such a coward, ”he said at last.

But now Miss Bok didn’t want to hear about Frida. She continued to move all the furniture to the door - the dresser was followed by a table, chairs and whatnot. A real barricade has already formed in front of the table.

Well, now, I think we can be calm, - said Miss Bok with satisfaction.

But then a dull voice sounded from under Daddy's bed, in which there was even more satisfaction:

Well, now, I think we can be calm! We're locked up for the night.

And the little ghost swiftly, with a whistle, flew out from under the bed.

Help! - yelled Miss Bok. - Help!

What happened? the ghost asked. - You move the furniture yourself, but really there is no one to help?

And the ghost burst out into a long, dull laugh. But Miss Bok was no laughing matter.

She rushed to the door and began throwing furniture around. In the blink of an eye, dismantling the barricade, she ran out into the hall with a loud cry.

The ghost flew after, and the Kid ran after him. Bimbo raced last and barked wildly. He recognized the ghost by its smell and thought a fun game had begun. The ghost, however, also thought so.

Gay, gay! - it shouted, flying around Miss Bok's head and almost touching her ears.

But then it lagged behind a little to get a real chase. So they ran all over the apartment - Freken Bok galloped in front, and a ghost rushed after her: into the kitchen and from the kitchen, into the dining room and from the dining room, into the Kid's room and from the Kid's room and again into the kitchen, the large room, the Kid's room and again, and again…

Freken Bok screamed all the time so that in the end the ghost even tried to calm her down:

Well, well, well, don't cry! Now we'll have our fill of fun!

But all these consolations had no effect. Freken Bock continued to wail and rush about the kitchen. And there was still a basin of water on the floor, in which she washed her feet. The ghost haunted her. “Gay, gay” - it was ringing in my ears; Finally Miss Bok stumbled over the basin and fell with a crash. At the same time, she let out a scream, similar to the howl of a siren, but then the ghost simply outraged:

Ashamed of you! You scream like a little girl. You scared me and the neighbors to death. Be careful, or the police will come here!

The whole floor was flooded with water, and in the middle of a huge puddle Freken Bock was floundering. Without even trying to get to her feet, she crawled out of the kitchen surprisingly quickly.

The ghost could not deny himself the pleasure of making several jumps in the basin - after all, there was almost no water there.

Just think, the walls are slightly splattered, - said the ghost to the Kid. - All people, as a rule, stumble over the pots, so why is she howling?

The ghost made the last leap and again rushed for Miss Bok. But her something was nowhere to be seen. But the footprints were dark on the parquet in the anteroom.

The housewife has escaped! the ghost exclaimed. - But here are her wet footprints. Now we will see where they lead. Guess who is the best tracker in the world!

The footprints led to the bathroom. Freken Bok locked herself there, and her triumphant laughter was heard in the hallway.

The ghost knocked on the bathroom door.

Open up! Do you hear, open it immediately!

But outside the door there was only loud, exultant laughter.

Open up! I’m not playing! shouted the ghost.

Freken Bok fell silent, but did not open the door. Then the ghost turned to the Kid, who still could not catch his breath.

Tell her to open it! What an interest to play if she behaves like that!

The kid knocked timidly on the door.

It's me, ”he said. - How long are you going to be locked up here, Miss Bok?

All night, - answered Miss Bok. “I’ll put all the towels in my bathtub so I can sleep there.”

Then the ghost spoke differently:

Stele! Please step down! Do everything to spoil our fun, to upset our game! But guess who, in that case, will immediately go to Frida to give her material for a new show?

Silence reigned in the bathroom for a long time. Apparently Miss Bok was considering this terrible threat. But in the end she said in a pitiful, pleading tone:

No, no, please, don't do this! .. I can't stand this.

Then come out! - said the ghost. “Otherwise, the ghost will fly away to Freygaten. And your sister Frida will be on TV again, that's for sure!

Miss Bok could be heard sighing heavily several times. Finally she called:

Baby! Put your ear to the keyhole, I want to whisper something to you in confidence.

The kid did as she asked. He put his ear to the keyhole, and Miss Bok whispered to him:

You see, I thought I was not afraid of ghosts, but it turned out that I am. But you are brave! Maybe you ask that this ghost disappear now and appear another time? I want to get used to it a little. But the main thing is that it does not visit Frida during this time! Let it swear not to go to Freygaten!

I will try, but I do not know what will turn out, - said the Kid and turned around to start negotiations with the ghost.

But he was gone.

He's not there! - shouted the Kid. - It flew away to its home. Come out.

But Miss Bok did not dare to leave the bathroom until the Kid went around the whole apartment and made sure that the ghost was nowhere.

Then Miss Bok, trembling with fear, sat for a long time in the Kid's room. But gradually she came to her senses and gathered her thoughts.

Oh, it was awful ... - she said. - But think about what kind of TV program could come out of this! Frida has never seen anything like it in her life!

She was as happy as a child. But from time to time she recalled how a ghost was chasing her on her heels and shuddered with horror.

Anyway, I've had enough of the ghosts, she decided in the end. - I would be glad if fate saved me from such meetings.

She had barely had time to say that, when something like a moo was heard from the closet of the Kid. And that was enough for Miss Bok to scream again:

Do you hear? I swear the ghost is lurking in our closet! Oh, I think I'm going to die now ...

The kid felt very sorry for her, but he did not know what to say to comfort her.

No ... - he began after some thought, - this is not a ghost at all ... This ... this ... consider that this is a calf. Yes, let's hope it's a calf.

Calf! This was not enough yet! Will not work! And don't get your hopes up!

The closet doors flew open, and a little ghost from Vazastan fluttered out of there, dressed in white clothes that the Kid had sewn with his own hands. Sighing deeply and mysteriously, it soared up to the ceiling and whirled around the chandelier.

Gay, gay, I'm not a calf, but the most dangerous ghost in the world!

Freken Bock screamed. The ghost described circles, it fluttered faster and faster, Freken Bock screamed more and more horribly, and the ghost whirled faster and faster, in a wild whirlwind.

But suddenly something unexpected happened. Refining in complex shapes, the ghost made a too small circle, and his clothes caught on the chandelier.

Clap! - the old sheets immediately crawled, fell off Carlson and hung on the chandelier, and Carlson flew around her in his usual blue pants, a plaid shirt and striped socks. He was so carried away by the game that he did not even notice what happened to him. He flew and flew for himself, sighed and groaned more ghostly than ever before. But, completing the next circle, he suddenly noticed that something was hanging on the chandelier and fluttering from the vibrations of the air when he flew by.

What kind of rag did you hang on the lamp? - he asked. - From flies, or what?

The kid just sighed pitifully:

No, Carlson, not from flies.

Then Carlson looked at his plump body, saw blue pants and realized what a disaster had happened, realized that he was no longer a little ghost from Vazastan, but simply Carlson.

He landed awkwardly next to the Kid: he looked somewhat embarrassed.

Well, yes, ”he said,“ failure can derail even the best designs. Now we are convinced of this ... You can’t say anything, this is a matter of everyday life!

Miss Bok, pale as chalk, stared at Carlson. She swallowed convulsively like a fish thrown onto dry land. But in the end, she still managed to squeeze out a few words:

Who… who… God is righteous, and who is this?

And the Kid said, barely holding back tears:

This is Carlson who lives on the roof.

Who is this? Who is this Carlson who lives on the roof? - Gasping, asked Miss Bok.

Carlson bowed:

A handsome, intelligent and moderately well-fed man in his prime. Imagine this is me.

Russian poet and essayist, columnist site Dmitry Vodennikov about mystical coincidences in literature.

Freken Bock is on the phone. He lays down in his clothes in the bathtub (without water), takes a flexible shower hose, speaks into the water divider.

- You have no idea, Frida, what happened to me! I was just being rolled by a chair, and the vacuum cleaner was eating buns. Frida, Frida? Can you hear me?

It seemed funny as a child. Not very good now.

A modern poet has such a poem. Sergei Kruglov. It's called that. "Freken Bock is on the phone." Here it is.

You have no idea, Frida,
I realized how important
right to enter the post!
The second week - and such results!
I have already stopped drinking cognac in the morning!
Hello! Hello! Frida!
Thank you for persuading me!
Forgive that I, the fool, resisted!
Hello! Frida!
Where are you? Do you hear?

Hildur honey, I can't hear you well.
You have something pouring and gurgling in the tube.
I'll call you back.

Frida loves her sister, but
it is so difficult to listen to the raptures of a neophyte for an hour.
Frida herself has advanced far enough
in fasting and prayer. Frida
will call back. Later.
Later

Now ... Calm the heart.
Saliva is not swallowed.

Squinting her eyes, Frida
fumbles for a handkerchief on the dressing table,
slides to the floor and whispers hoarsely:
“Frida. Frida. Frida.
My name is Frida. "

If the heroine of this brilliant modern poem remembered at least something about Russia and Ukraine, the revolution and the Civil War in our country, she would probably know something about Simon Petliura, who was killed by a Jew in Paris. But Freken Bock is like a computer that is not yet known to her (to all other unknowns). All files in it are erased, they cannot be found. He sits in his bathtub like mindless computer hardware, gurgling with water from a turned on shower. What is Petlyura to her, what is Bulgakov's Frida to her?

For now, we will not remember about Petliura either. Let's talk about telephones.

One woman recently told one of the social networks on the Internet literally the following:

“It looks like the universe got what it wanted from me. Tonight, after long hours of recovery, the phone blinked, rebooted again and erased my 40,000 photos (all my photos in general).

That is, her entire life.

What would we do if we were this woman? That's right: they would have shouted. Perhaps they would cry.

But this woman did not cry. She understood, of course, that this was, generally speaking, a disaster. But small, personal, just hers. And this catastrophe fades in the face of all the other catastrophes for which the 20th century was so generous, and ours, the 21st.

- But yesterday I looked at something and suddenly thought: I wonder how, as if before a new big stage, the phone decided to clear me and update me to zero. So I just rebooted the phone four times, read the stories of similar incidents with others (for some, everything really disappeared) and went to bed. And in the morning all the pictures are in place. Credit for the trust of life - a tick.

Needless to say, trust in life is a good thing. But it didn’t help some. Petliura was killed on May 25, 1926 in Paris by Samuel Schwarzburd, a native of the city of Izmail. Schwarzburd argued that this murder was purely an act of revenge for the Jewish pogroms of 1918–20 that swept across Ukraine.

Here is how it was. At the corner of Boulevard Saint-Michel and Racine Street, Schwarzburd approached Petliura, who was looking at the window, and, making sure in Ukrainian that in fact, Simon Petliura was in front of him, he conveyed greetings to him from Isaac Schwarzburd and Chaya Schwarzburd.

- Excuse me, - Petliura was embarrassed, - I don't remember something.
“Oh, there is no need for this, dear Simon Vasilyevich,” Schwarzburd answered him. - But I remember them very well.

And he shot Petliura three times in the chest. Then he calmly waited for the police to arrive, surrendered his weapon and announced that he had just shot the murderer.

At the trial, 180 witnesses spoke on behalf of the defense, who spoke in detail about the horrors of Jewish pogroms in Ukraine under the rule of the Directory. All members of the Schwarzburd family (15 people) were killed during the pogroms of 1918-1920.

Schwarzburd was acquitted by the Paris court. But he was sentenced to a fine of one franc - for the sidewalk stained with blood.

Frida, as you remember, was also punished. And she was less fortunate.

Frida — this is a character from Bulgakov's novel "The Master and Margarita", she is also a participant in Satan's Great Ball.

This she asked Margarita, first kissing her knee swollen from kisses, so that she put in a word for her in front of the prince of darkness and stop her torture: for thirty years now, they put a handkerchief on the table and put it on the table at night, with which she strangled her baby.

In Bulgakov's archive, Bulkagologists later found a preserved extract from the book of the famous Swiss psychiatrist and public figure, one of the founders of sexology Auguste Forel, Sexual Question, which read: “Frida Keller - killed a boy. (…) I strangled the baby with a handkerchief ”.

Frida Keller was a young attractive woman, she served as an assistant in a cafe, endured the harassment of a married owner, even quit, but even after leaving, she was carried away under a plausible pretext (I wonder what?) Into the cellar, and here the owner of the cafe forced her to surrender to him, which was repeated then at least two more times. In May 1899, she was relieved of the burden as a boy and placed him in an orphanage, from where, however, he had to be taken at the age of five.

And now this year 1904 has come. And the boy's fate was sealed. "Kill!" - thinks Frida. "Kill", - the spring shadows outside the window answer. Kill, says the fearful brain. A god named Freken is silent.

A few days before the visit to the orphanage, “she was seen rushing around the apartment in search of some kind of string. Her appearance spoke of a depressed internal state. Finally, she made up her mind. "

Her relatives were informed that her child would be sent to her aunt from Munich, who was waiting for her in Zurich. “Grabbing the child by the hand, she went with him to the Hagenbach Forest. Here, in a secluded place, she pondered for a long time, not deciding on her terrible business. But, according to her, some unknown force pushed her. "

Having dug a hole with her hands (what did the boy do, looking at his insane mother, tearing apart the May earth with her bare hands?), She strangled the child with a lace (“Come to me, child, I want to straighten your collar!”), And, making sure of his death, buried the corpse, and in a different way went home in hysterics. On June 1, she wrote to the orphanage that the child had safely reached Munich (the forest underground creatures had already begun their work), on June 7, after heavy rain, a corpse was found on the surface of the earth by some vagrants, on the 11th of the same month Frieda paid the last debt to the orphanage for the child, and on the 14th she was already arrested.
Remember Goethe? Fausta. There, too, Gretchen kills her child. First, killing his mother (though out of ignorance: she was told that it was a sleeping pill.) There, after all, even at the end it sounds: "Saved!"
But no one will save Frida.

Confused in testimony and causing disgust, Frida did not stop explaining her crime by the inability to support the child, as well as by the need to keep in secret the shameful fact that she had become a forced mother. The male world looked at her sternly from beneath a floured wig.

The verdict was passed (eternal hard labor), Frida lost consciousness.

But - and where does the handkerchief?

And despite the fact that Bulgakov combined two stories here. He took a name from one, and a haberdashery from the other.

The fact is that the same Trout in his "Sexual Question" (oh, this is the attention of the 19th century to this issue) briefly outlined the story of a 19-year-old worker from Silesia, who, under similar circumstances, gave birth to a child on February 25, 1908, and also killed. And she killed him, strangling him. For this purpose, thrusting a crumpled handkerchief into his mouth and nose for this purpose. The court took into account the mitigating circumstances and sentenced the unfortunate girl to two years in prison, which gave Forel a reason for the indignant exclamation: "How gracious!"

Neither the father nor any other adult male was harmed in this sentence.

That's who Freken Bock is calling! Like a bell. She calls another heroine. From another novel. A novel by the author of another country. She calls the prototype. And not even one prototype, but two at once.

There is something to go crazy with.

Only you yourself don't go. In a week I will come and tell you a new scary story. For example, about books bound in human skin.

Well, or I won't.

But remember.

Sooner or later, all the "pictures" deleted from your phone's memory will pop up again.

About the extraordinary writer Astrid Lindgren, who gave the world many wonderful children's works. The cartoon based on her book "Kid and Carlson", filmed by Soyuzmultfilm, has become one of the most beloved and popular cartoons of the Soviet audience.

IsraLove remembers and shares with you the best moments of this cartoon.

I promise you that I will rid you of his old wife.
- It's good, but actually I would like to have a dog much more than a wife ...

And I don't need anything else. Except: maybe some huge cake, mountains of chocolate, and maybe some big, big bag of sweets, that's it ...

A miracle happened! A friend saved a friend's life! Our dear Carlson is now with a normal temperature, and he is supposed to be naughty ...

Well, no, I don't eat that - what is it: one cake and eight candles. Better this way - eight pies ... and one candle, eh?
- Believe me, Carlson, happiness is not in pies ...
- Are you crazy? What else?
- They won't give me a dog ...
- Whom? A dog? But what about me? .. Baby, am I better? Better than a dog? A?

Fröken Bock! Side! But your smoking can adversely affect my health! You will have to give up this ... nasty habit!

What an aggressive dog!
- I hope, uh ... Fröken Bock, you love children, huh?
- Uh ... How can I tell you ... Crazy!

Matilda, can you hear me? My child ... Take care of this beast, just be careful - the dog is not sterile.

Do you know what grandmother is? She, as she sees me, immediately yells to the whole village: "Karlso-onchik dor-rooy"! And then how she swoops in, how she hugs! .. Yes! .. My grandmother, she is with me - the world champion in hugs!

Dear friend, arrives from afar, for a minute, and you have no cake.

But we didn't know ...
- What did you even know? You should have hoped! .. With all your might.

Good evening, dear friends! Let's start our next show from the life of ghosts! We kindly ask you to take your children away from our blue screens.

Ugh! How uncivilized! ..

This is television, right? Is this the Haunted Life section? Yes? Yes! (F-f-f) You know, a charming ghost flew in to me! Come urgently, I want to tell the world about it!

Matilda! Matilda! Are you deaf ?! I seem to be addressing you! (Matilda sluggishly turns her head to the hostess) Have you seen anything like this? There are crooks on TV! Well, why am I worse ?! Ugliness! Oh!

Our phone: Two-two-three, three-two-two. Two-two-three, three-two-two.

How so? There is a shoe, but there is no child in it ...

So, okay ... Yes ... I am now, I am this minute, I need to take ... my drops ... from the head. No, for the head!

Ay! What's the matter? The head is in place ... The chair is in place ...
- Madam! ..
- By the way, mademoiselle.

Ah! .. I get it! ..
- What did you understand?
- Carlson, you know she wants to get on TV!
- She?
- Yeah.
- On the TV?
- Yes.
- This fat housewife wants to get into the smallest box ?! It won't work. It will need to be folded in four.

So you were the one who carried my buns ?!
- STOP! And your milk ran away!
- My God! Milk escaped! Excuse me, what milk, I have no milk on the stove! .. Again, a prank, rascal!

Oh, what a shame that you are not a ghost!
- Why?
- Well, because now TV artists are coming. I specially summoned them for a ghost! What am I going to talk to them about now?
- How about what? And I? And about me ?! After all, I am an intelligent, handsome, moderately well-fed man! Well, in full bloom!
- Yes, but there is enough of this stuff on television without you!
- But I'm also TALENTED! ..

Well, Kid, where is your Carlson?
- He flew away! But he promised to return! Darling! .. Darling! ..