Cinderella and Alangazar - страница 4

The next day, Alangazar went back to the forest. This time, he found a scythe. Not wanting to lose it, he tied it to his clothes.

But the scythe kept slipping and tearing his shirt. By the end, all his clothes were shredded.

– You should’ve tied it to the firewood, – Victoria explained. – Like this, by the handle and to the bundle.

– Alright, I’ll do that next time, – nodded Alangazar.

On the third day, he headed to the woods again. On his way back, he saw a shepherd fast asleep in the grass while wolves were chasing his sheep.

Alangazar didn’t interfere. He ran home to ask for advice.

– Wolves are eating the sheep! And the shepherd’s asleep! – he panted.

– You should’ve shouted: “Wolf, you scoundrel!” – suggested Victoria.

– Alright, I’ll do just that! – he shouted and ran back.

But on the road, he stumbled into a protest. The crowd was noisy, police were arriving.

Alangazar, following his wife’s advice, raised his hands and shouted at the top of his voice:

– WOLF! YOU SCOUNDREL! SHAMELESS BEAST!

The police thought he was shouting at them.

They raised their batons and gave him a good beating. But they couldn’t interrogate him – he was too big for the cell.

Bruised and battered, he returned home.

– Why did the police beat you up? – Victoria asked, stunned.

– I only said “the wolf is a scoundrel.”

– You should’ve said “Good day to you” – she sighed.

– Next time I will…

The next day, Alangazar saw a funeral procession. People in black were carrying a coffin. He beamed and, just as taught, shouted:

– Good day to you! A joyful and happy one!

The people stopped. Glared. Then – one threw an egg, another a tomato, another a clump of mud.

Covered in stains, he came home.

– You should’ve said: “Such a sad day. My condolences…” – sighed Victoria.

– Alright, I’ll say that next time…

The next day, he walked by a wedding. The bride and groom were dancing, everyone celebrating.

Alangazar stepped up and solemnly said:

– Such a sad day. My condolences!

The guests gasped in horror. Then – one with a broom, another with a tin, someone else with a boot – all chased him off.

He hid behind a fence and thought:

– That’s it! Enough! No more advice. From now on – I’ll use my own head!

The next day, he went back to the forest. Sat on a branch, started sawing it off. A passerby shouted:

– Hey! You’ll fall with that branch!

Alangazar waved him off: “I’ve got my own way now!”

A moment later – the branch snapped, and he crashed down.

Sitting there, scratching his head and brushing off the leaves, he muttered:

– Huh… Seems like he was right. Must be a smart man. Maybe even… a prophet?

And Alangazar rushed after him.

– Wait! You predicted I’d fall! Tell me, please – when will I die?

The passerby smirked:

– Hmm… you’ll die after three falls.

– Really? Only three? – Alangazar brightened. – Then I just won’t fall again!

And off he went through the forest, cheerful and light-hearted.

But then – stepped on a nail, tripped, and fell.

– Oof! One down! Two left!

Soon after, he stumbled on a stump – thud! Flat on his back.

– Oh no! Two already! Only one more left!

Now he walked very carefully. But it was hot, the firewood was heavy – sweat poured into his eyes. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve – and slipped off a bridge. Splash – right into the stream.

– That’s it! I’m dead! – he moaned, and fell asleep right there, on the firewood.