Fairy tale Mishka's porridge. Nikolay Nosov.

Once, when I was living with my mother at the dacha, Mishka came to visit me. I was so happy that I can’t even say! I miss Mishka very much. Mom was also glad to see him.

“It’s very good that you came,” she said. “You two will have more fun here.” By the way, I need to go to the city tomorrow. I might be late. Will you live here without me for two days?

“Of course we’ll live,” I say. - We are not small!

“Only here you’ll have to cook dinner yourself.” Can you do it?

“We can do it,” says Mishka. - What can’t you do!

- Well, cook some soup and porridge. It's easy to cook porridge.

- Let's cook some porridge. Why cook it? - says Mishka. I speak:

- Look, Mishka, what if we can’t do it! You haven't cooked before.

- Don't worry! I saw my mother cooking. You will be full, you will not die of hunger. I’ll cook such porridge that you’ll lick your fingers!

The next morning, my mother left us bread for two days, jam so that we could drink tea, showed us where what foods were, explained how to cook soup and porridge, how much cereal to put in, how much of what. We listened to everything, but I didn’t remember anything.

“Why,” I think, “since Mishka knows.”

Then mom left, and Mishka and I decided to go to the river to fish. We set up fishing rods and dug up worms.

“Wait,” I say. - Who will cook dinner if we go to the river?

- What’s there to cook? - says Mishka. - One fuss! We'll eat all the bread and cook porridge for dinner. You can eat porridge without bread.

We cut some bread, spread it with jam and went to the river. First we bathed, then we lay down on the sand. We bask in the sun and chew bread and jam. Then they started fishing. Only the fish were not biting well: only a dozen minnows were caught. We spent the whole day hanging out on the river. In the evening we returned home. Hungry!

“Well, Mishka,” I say, “you’re an expert.” What are we going to cook? Just something to make it faster. I really want to eat.

“Let’s have some porridge,” says Mishka. - Porridge is easiest.

- Well, I’ll just porridge.

We lit the stove. The bear poured cereal into the pan. I speak:

- The rash is bigger. I really want to eat!

He filled the pan full and filled it to the top with water.

- Isn't there a lot of water? - I ask. - It will be a mess.

- It’s okay, mom always does this. Just watch the stove, and I’ll cook, be calm.

Well, I look after the stove, add firewood, and Mishka cooks the porridge, that is, he doesn’t cook, but sits and looks at the pan, it cooks itself.

It soon got dark, we lit the lamp. We sit and wait for the porridge to cook. Suddenly I see: the lid on the pan has lifted, and porridge is crawling out from under it.

“Mishka,” I say, “what is this?” Why is there porridge?

- The jester knows where! It's coming out of the pan!

Mishka grabbed the spoon and began to push the porridge back into the pan. I crushed it and crushed it, but it seemed to swell in the pan and fell out.

“I don’t know,” says Mishka, “why she decided to get out.” Maybe it's ready already?

I took a spoon and tried it: the cereal was quite hard.

“Bear,” I say, “where did the water go?” Completely dry cereal!

“I don’t know,” he says. — I poured a lot of water. Maybe a hole in the pan?

We began to inspect the pan: there was no hole.

“It probably evaporated,” says Mishka. - We need to add more.

He transferred the excess grain from the pan to a plate and added water to the pan. They began to cook further. We cooked and cooked, and then we saw that the porridge was coming out again.

- Oh, damn you! - says Mishka. -Where are you going?

He grabbed a spoon and started putting away the extra grain again. I put it aside and poured a mug of water into it again.

“You see,” he says, “you thought there was a lot of water, but you still have to add it.”

- You probably put in a lot of cereal. It swells and becomes crowded in the pan.

“Yes,” says Mishka, “it seems I added a little too much grain.” It’s all your fault: “Put in more,” he says. I’m hungry!”

- How do I know how much to put in? You said you could cook.

- Well, I’ll cook it, just don’t interfere.

- Please, I won’t bother you. I stepped aside, and Mishka was cooking, that is, he wasn’t cooking, but just doing the extra grain into plates. The whole table is covered with plates, like in a restaurant, and water is being added all the time.

I couldn't stand it and said:

- You're doing something wrong. So you can cook until the morning!

- What do you think, in a good restaurant they always cook dinner in the evening so that it is ready in the morning.

“So,” I say, “in the restaurant!” They have nowhere to rush, they have a lot of food of all kinds.

- What's the hurry for us?

- We need to eat and go to bed. Look, it's almost twelve o'clock.

“You’ll have time,” he says, “to get some sleep.”

And again he poured water into the pan. Then I realized what was going on.

“You,” I say, “pour cold water all the time, how can it cook?”

- How do you think you can cook without water?

“Put out,” I say, “half the cereal and pour in more water at once, and let it cook.”

I took the pan from him and shook half of the cereal out of it.

“Pour it in,” I say, “now it’s full of water.” The bear took the mug and reached into the bucket.

“There’s no water,” he says. Everything came out.

- What are we going to do? How to go for water, what darkness! - I say. - And you won’t see the well.

- Nonsense! I will bring it now!

He took the matches, tied a rope to the bucket and went to the well. He returns a minute later.

-Where is the water? - I ask.

- Water... there, in the well.

“I know what’s in the well.” Where's the bucket of water?

“And the bucket,” he says, “is in the well.”

- What - in a well?

- Yes, in the well.

- Missed it?

- I missed it.

“Oh, you,” I say, “you’re a scumbag!” Well, do you want to starve us to death? How can we get water now?

- You can use a teapot. I took the kettle and said:

- Give me the rope.

- But it’s not there, there’s no rope.

- Where is she?

- Where exactly?

- Well... in the well.

- So you missed the bucket with the rope?

We began to look for another rope. Nowhere.

“Nothing,” says Mishka, “now I’ll go ask the neighbors.”

“Crazy,” I say, “losing my mind!” Look at the clock: the neighbors have been sleeping for a long time.

Then, as if on purpose, we both felt thirsty; I think I’d give a hundred rubles for a mug of water! Mishka says:

“It always happens like this: when there is no water, you want to drink even more.” Therefore, in the desert you are always thirsty, because there is no water there.

I speak;

- Don’t reason, but look for the rope.

- Where to look for her? I looked everywhere. Let's tie the fishing line to the kettle.

- Will the fishing line hold up?

- Maybe it will hold out.

- What if he can’t stand it?

- Well, if it doesn’t hold up, then... it will break...

- This is known without you.

We unwound the fishing rod, tied the fishing line to the kettle and went to the well. I lowered the kettle into the well and filled it with water. The line was stretched like a string, about to burst.

- It won’t stand it! - I say. - I feel.

“Maybe if you lift it carefully, it will hold,” says Mishka.

I began to lift it slowly. As soon as I lifted it above the water, there was a splash - and there was no teapot.

— Couldn’t stand it? - asks Mishka.

- Of course, I couldn’t stand it. How to get water now?

“A samovar,” says Mishka.

- No, it’s better to just throw the samovar into the well, at least there’s no need to mess around with it. There is no rope.

- Well, with a saucepan.

“What do you think we have,” I say, “a pot shop?”

- Then a glass.

- This is how much you have to fuss with while you apply it with a glass of water!

- What to do? You have to finish cooking the porridge. And I want to drink until I die.

“Come on,” I say, “with a mug.” The mug is still larger than the glass.

We came home and tied a fishing line to the mug so that it wouldn’t tip over. We returned to the well. They pulled out a mug of water and drank. Mishka says:

- It always happens like this. When you’re thirsty, it seems like you’ll drink a whole sea, but when you start drinking, you’ll drink one mug and don’t want any more, because people are greedy by nature...

I speak:

- There’s no point in slandering people here! Better bring the pan with the porridge here, we’ll put the water straight into it, so we don’t have to run around twenty times with the mug.

Mishka brought the pan and placed it on the edge of the well. I didn’t notice her, caught her with my elbow and almost pushed her into the well.

- Oh, you bungler! - I say. - Why did you put a pan under my elbow? Take her in your hands and hold her tight. And move away from the well, otherwise the porridge will fly into the well.

Mishka took the pan and walked away from the well. I brought some water.

We came home. Our porridge has cooled down, the stove has gone out. We lit the stove again and started cooking porridge again. Finally it began to boil, became thick and began to puff: “Puff, puff!”

- ABOUT! - says Mishka. - It turned out to be a good porridge, noble lady!

I took a spoon and tried:

- Ugh! What kind of porridge is this! Bitter, unsalted and stinks of burning.

The bear also wanted to try it, but immediately spat it out.

“No,” he says, “I’ll die, but I won’t eat such porridge!”

- If you eat such porridge, you can die! - I say.

- What should we do?

- Don't know.

- We're weirdos! - says Mishka. - We have minnows!

- I speak:

“There’s no time to bother with minnows now!” It will begin to get light soon.

- So we won’t cook them, but fry them. It's quick - once, and you're done.

“Well, come on,” I say, “if it’s quick.” And if it turns out like porridge, then it’s better not to.

- In a moment, you'll see.

The bear cleaned the minnows and put them in a frying pan. The frying pan got hot and the minnows stuck to it. The bear began to tear the minnows from the frying pan with a knife, and tore off all the sides with it.

- Smart ass! - I say. - Who fries fish without oil? Mishka took a bottle of sunflower oil. He poured oil into a frying pan and put it in the oven directly on the hot coals so that they would fry faster. The oil hissed, crackled and suddenly burst into flames in the frying pan. Mishka pulled the frying pan out of the stove - the oil was burning on it. I wanted to fill it with water, but we don’t have a drop of water in the whole house. So it burned until all the oil was burned out. There is smoke and stench in the room, and only coals remain from the minnows.

“Well,” says Mishka, “what are we going to fry now?”

“No,” I say, “I won’t give you anything else to fry.” Not only will you ruin the food, but you will also start a fire. The whole house will burn down because of you. Enough!

- What to do? I really want to eat! We tried chewing raw cereal - it was disgusting. We tried raw onions - it was bitter. We tried to eat butter without bread - it was nauseating. We found a jam jar. Well, we licked her and went to bed. It was already quite late.

The next morning we woke up hungry. The bear immediately went for grain to cook porridge. When I saw it, it even gave me a shiver.

- Do not dare! - I say. “Now I’ll go to the hostess, Aunt Natasha, and ask her to cook porridge for us.”

We went to Aunt Natasha, told her everything, promised that Mishka and I would weed out all the weeds in her garden, just let her help us cook porridge. Aunt Natasha took pity on us: she gave us milk, gave us pies with cabbage, and then sat us down to have breakfast. We ate and ate, so much so that Aunt Natasha Vovka was surprised at us how hungry we were.

Finally we had eaten, asked Aunt Natasha for a rope and went to get a bucket and kettle from the well. We fiddled around a lot and if Mishka hadn’t come up with the idea of ​​making an anchor out of wire, we wouldn’t have gotten anything. And the anchor, like a hook, hooked both the bucket and the kettle. Nothing was missing - everything was taken out. And then Mishka, Vovka and I weeded the weeds in the garden.

Mishka said:

- Weeds are nonsense! Not at all difficult. Much easier than cooking porridge!

Once, when I was living with my mother at the dacha, Mishka came to visit me. I was so happy that I can’t even say! I miss Mishka very much. Mom was also glad to see him.

“It’s very good that you came,” she said. “You two will have more fun here.” By the way, I need to go to the city tomorrow. I might be late. Will you live here without me for two days?

“Of course we’ll live,” I say. - We are not small!

“Only here you’ll have to cook dinner yourself.” Can you do it?

“We can do it,” says Mishka. - What can’t you do!

- Well, cook some soup and porridge. It's easy to cook porridge.

- Let's cook some porridge. Why cook it? - says Mishka. I speak:

- Look, Mishka, what if we can’t do it! You haven't cooked before.

- Don't worry! I saw my mother cooking. You will be full, you will not die of hunger. I’ll cook such porridge that you’ll lick your fingers!

The next morning, my mother left us bread for two days, jam so that we could drink tea, showed us where what foods were, explained how to cook soup and porridge, how much cereal to put in, how much of what. We listened to everything, but I didn’t remember anything. “Why,” I think, “since Mishka knows.”

Then mom left, and Mishka and I decided to go to the river to fish. We set up fishing rods and dug up worms.

“Wait,” I say. - Who will cook dinner if we go to the river?

- What’s there to cook? - says Mishka. - One fuss! We'll eat all the bread and cook porridge for dinner. You can eat porridge without bread.

We cut some bread, spread it with jam and went to the river. First we bathed, then we lay down on the sand. We bask in the sun and chew bread and jam. Then they started fishing. Only the fish were not biting well: only a dozen minnows were caught. We spent the whole day hanging out on the river. In the evening we returned home. Hungry!

“Well, Mishka,” I say, “you’re an expert.” What are we going to cook? Just something to make it faster. I really want to eat.

“Let’s have some porridge,” says Mishka. - Porridge is easiest.

- Well, I’ll just porridge.

We lit the stove. The bear poured cereal into the pan. I speak:

- The rash is bigger. I really want to eat!

He filled the pan full and filled it to the top with water.

- Isn't there a lot of water? - I ask. - It will be a mess.

- It’s okay, mom always does this. Just watch the stove, and I’ll cook, be calm.

Well, I look after the stove, add firewood, and Mishka cooks the porridge, that is, he doesn’t cook, but sits and looks at the pan, it cooks itself.

It soon got dark, we lit the lamp. We sit and wait for the porridge to cook. Suddenly I see: the lid on the pan has lifted, and porridge is crawling out from under it.

“Mishka,” I say, “what is this?” Why is there porridge?

- The jester knows where! It's coming out of the pan!

Mishka grabbed the spoon and began to push the porridge back into the pan. I crushed it and crushed it, but it seemed to swell in the pan and fell out.

“I don’t know,” says Mishka, “why she decided to get out.” Maybe it's ready already?

I took a spoon and tried it: the cereal was quite hard.

“Bear,” I say, “where did the water go?” Completely dry cereal!

“I don’t know,” he says. — I poured a lot of water. Maybe a hole in the pan?

We began to inspect the pan: there was no hole.

“It probably evaporated,” says Mishka. - We need to add more.

He transferred the excess grain from the pan to a plate and added water to the pan. They began to cook further. We cooked and cooked, and then we saw that the porridge was coming out again.

- Oh, damn you! - says Mishka. -Where are you going?

He grabbed a spoon and started putting away the extra grain again. I put it aside and poured a mug of water into it again.

“You see,” he says, “you thought there was a lot of water, but you still have to add it.”

- You probably put in a lot of cereal. It swells and becomes crowded in the pan.

“Yes,” says Mishka, “it seems I added a little too much grain.” It’s all your fault: “Put in more,” he says. I’m hungry!”

- How do I know how much to put in? You said you could cook.

- Well, I’ll cook it, just don’t interfere.

- Please, I won’t bother you. I stepped aside, and Mishka was cooking, that is, he wasn’t cooking, but just doing the extra grain into plates. The whole table is covered with plates, like in a restaurant, and water is being added all the time.

I couldn't stand it and said:

- You're doing something wrong. So you can cook until the morning!

- What do you think, in a good restaurant they always cook dinner in the evening so that it is ready in the morning.

“So,” I say, “in the restaurant!” They have nowhere to rush, they have a lot of food of all kinds.

- What's the hurry for us?

- We need to eat and go to bed. Look, it's almost twelve o'clock.

“You’ll have time,” he says, “to get some sleep.”

And again he poured water into the pan. Then I realized what was going on.

“You,” I say, “pour cold water all the time, how can it cook?”

- How do you think you can cook without water?

“Put out,” I say, “half the cereal and pour in more water at once, and let it cook.”

I took the pan from him and shook half of the cereal out of it.

“Pour it in,” I say, “now it’s full of water.” The bear took the mug and reached into the bucket.

“There’s no water,” he says. Everything came out.

- What are we going to do? How to go for water, what darkness! - I say. - And you won’t see the well.

- Nonsense! I will bring it now

He took the matches, tied a rope to the bucket and went to the well. He returns a minute later.

-Where is the water? - I ask.

- Water... there, in the well.

“I know what’s in the well.” Where's the bucket of water?

“And the bucket,” he says, “is in the well.”

- What - in a well?

- Yes, in the well.

- Missed it?

- I missed it.

“Oh, you,” I say, “you’re a scumbag!” Well, do you want to starve us to death? How can we get water now?

- You can use a teapot. I took the kettle and said:

- Give me the rope.

- But it’s not there, there’s no rope.

- Where is she?

- Where exactly?

- Well... in the well.

- So you missed the bucket with the rope?

We began to look for another rope. Nowhere.

“Nothing,” says Mishka, “now I’ll go ask the neighbors.”

“Crazy,” I say, “losing my mind!” Look at the clock: the neighbors have been sleeping for a long time.

Then, as if on purpose, we both felt thirsty; I think I’d give a hundred rubles for a mug of water! Mishka says:

“It always happens like this: when there is no water, you want to drink even more.” Therefore, in the desert you are always thirsty, because there is no water there.

I speak;

- Don’t reason, but look for the rope.

- Where to look for her? I looked everywhere. Let's tie the fishing line to the kettle.

- Will the fishing line hold up?

- Maybe it will hold out.

- What if he can’t stand it?

- Well, if it doesn’t hold up, then... it will break...

- This is known without you.

We unwound the fishing rod, tied the fishing line to the kettle and went to the well. I lowered the kettle into the well and filled it with water. The line was stretched like a string, about to burst.

- It won’t stand it! - I say. - I feel.

“Maybe if you lift it carefully, it will hold,” says Mishka.

I began to lift it slowly. As soon as I lifted it above the water, there was a splash - and there was no teapot.

— Couldn’t stand it? - asks Mishka.

- Of course, I couldn’t stand it. How to get water now?

“A samovar,” says Mishka.

- No, it’s better to just throw the samovar into the well, at least there’s no need to mess around with it. There is no rope.

- Well, with a saucepan.

“What do you think we have,” I say, “a pot shop?”

- Then a glass.

- This is how much you have to fuss with while you apply it with a glass of water!

- What to do? You have to finish cooking the porridge. And I want to drink until I die.

“Come on,” I say, “with a mug.” The mug is still larger than the glass.

We came home and tied a fishing line to the mug so that it wouldn’t tip over. We returned to the well. They pulled out a mug of water and drank. Mishka says:

- It always happens like this. When you’re thirsty, it seems like you’ll drink a whole sea, but when you start drinking, you’ll only drink one mug and won’t want any more, because people are greedy by nature...

I speak:

- There’s no point in slandering people here! Better bring the pan with the porridge here, we’ll put the water straight into it, so we don’t have to run around twenty times with the mug.

Mishka brought the pan and placed it on the edge of the well. I didn’t notice her, caught her with my elbow and almost pushed her into the well.

- Oh, you bungler! - I say. - Why did you put a pan under my elbow? Take her in your hands and hold her tight. And move away from the well, otherwise the porridge will fly into the well.

Mishka took the pan and walked away from the well. I brought some water.

We came home. Our porridge has cooled down, the stove has gone out. We lit the stove again and started cooking porridge again. Finally it began to boil, became thick and began to puff: “Puff, puff!”

- ABOUT! - says Mishka. - It turned out to be a good porridge, noble lady!

I took a spoon and tried:

- Ugh! What kind of porridge is this! Bitter, unsalted and stinks of burning.

The bear also wanted to try it, but immediately spat it out.

“No,” he says, “I’ll die, but I won’t eat such porridge!”

- If you eat such porridge, you can die! - I say.

- What should we do?

- Don't know.

- We're weirdos! - says Mishka. - We have minnows!

- I speak:

“There’s no time to bother with minnows now!” It will begin to get light soon.

- So we won’t cook them, but fry them. It's quick - once, and you're done.

“Come on,” I say, “if it’s quick.” And if it turns out like porridge, then it’s better not to.

- In a moment, you'll see.

The bear cleaned the minnows and put them in a frying pan. The frying pan got hot and the minnows stuck to it. The bear began to tear the minnows from the frying pan with a knife, and tore off all the sides with it.

- Smart ass! - I say. - Who fries fish without oil? Mishka took a bottle of sunflower oil. He poured oil into a frying pan and put it in the oven directly on the hot coals so that they would fry faster. The oil hissed, crackled and suddenly burst into flames in the frying pan. Mishka pulled the frying pan out of the stove - the oil was burning on it. I wanted to fill it with water, but we don’t have a drop of water in the whole house. So it burned until all the oil was burned out. There is smoke and stench in the room, and only coals remain from the minnows.

“Well,” says Mishka, “what are we going to fry now?”

“No,” I say, “I won’t give you anything else to fry.” Not only will you ruin the food, but you will also start a fire. The whole house will burn down because of you. Enough!

- What to do? I really want to eat! We tried chewing raw cereal - it was disgusting. We tried raw onions - it was bitter. We tried to eat butter without bread - it was nauseating. We found a jam jar. Well, we licked her and went to bed. It was already quite late.

The next morning we woke up hungry. The bear immediately went for grain to cook porridge. When I saw it, it even gave me a shiver.

- Do not dare! - I say. “Now I’ll go to the hostess, Aunt Natasha, and ask her to cook porridge for us.”

We went to Aunt Natasha, told her everything, promised that Mishka and I would weed out all the weeds in her garden, just let her help us cook porridge. Aunt Natasha took pity on us: she gave us milk, gave us pies with cabbage, and then sat us down to have breakfast. We ate and ate, so that Aunt Natasha Vovka was surprised at us how hungry we were.

Finally we had eaten, asked Aunt Natasha for a rope and went to get a bucket and kettle from the well. We fiddled around a lot and if Mishka hadn’t come up with the idea of ​​making an anchor out of wire, we wouldn’t have gotten anything. And the anchor, like a hook, hooked both the bucket and the kettle. Nothing was missing - everything was taken out. And then Mishka, Vovka and I weeded the weeds in the garden.

Mishka said:

- Weeds are nonsense! Not at all difficult. Much easier than cooking porridge!

Once, when I was living with my mother at the dacha, Mishka came to visit me. I was so happy that I can’t even say! I miss Mishka very much. Mom was also glad to see him.
“It’s very good that you came,” she said. “The two of you will have more fun here.” By the way, I need to go to the city tomorrow. I might be late. Will you live here without me for two days?
“Of course we’ll live,” I say. - We are not small!
“But you’ll have to cook your own lunch here.” Can you do it?
“We can do it,” says Mishka. - What can’t you do!
- Well, cook some soup and porridge. It's easy to cook porridge.
- Let's cook some porridge. Why cook it? - says Mishka. I speak:
- Look, Mishka, what if we can’t do it! You haven't cooked before.
- Don't worry! I saw my mother cooking. You will be full, you will not die of hunger. I’ll cook such porridge that you’ll lick your fingers!
The next morning, my mother left us bread for two days, jam so that we could drink tea, showed us where what foods were, explained how to cook soup and porridge, how much cereal to put in, how much of what. We all listened, but I didn’t remember anything. “Why,” I think, “since Mishka knows.”
Then mom left, and Mishka and I decided to go to the river to fish. We set up fishing rods and dug up worms.
“Wait,” I say. – Who will cook dinner if we go to the river?
- What’s there to cook? - says Mishka. - One fuss! We'll eat all the bread and cook porridge for dinner. You can eat porridge without bread.
We cut some bread, spread it with jam and went to the river. First we bathed, then we lay down on the sand. We bask in the sun and chew bread and jam. Then they started fishing. Only the fish were not biting well: only a dozen minnows were caught. We spent the whole day hanging out on the river. In the evening we returned home. Hungry!
“Well, Mishka,” I say, “you’re an expert.” What are we going to cook? Just something to make it faster. I really want to eat.
“Let’s have some porridge,” says Mishka. – Porridge is easiest.
- Well, I’ll just porridge.
We lit the stove. The bear poured cereal into the pan. I speak:
- The rash is bigger. I really want to eat!
He filled the pan full and filled it to the top with water.
– Isn’t there a lot of water? - I ask. - It will be a mess.
- It’s okay, mom always does this. Just watch the stove, and I’ll cook, be calm.
Well, I look after the stove, add firewood, and Mishka cooks the porridge, that is, he doesn’t cook, but sits and looks at the pan, it cooks itself.
It soon got dark, we lit the lamp. We sit and wait for the porridge to cook. Suddenly I see: the lid on the pan has lifted, and porridge is crawling out from under it.
“Mishka,” I say, “what is this?” Why is there porridge?
- Where?
- The jester knows where! It's coming out of the pan!
Mishka grabbed the spoon and began to push the porridge back into the pan. I crushed it and crushed it, but it seemed to swell in the pan and fell out.
“I don’t know,” says Mishka, “why she decided to get out.” Maybe it's ready already?
I took a spoon and tried it: the cereal was quite hard.
“Mishka,” I say, “where did the water go?” Completely dry cereal!
“I don’t know,” he says. - I poured a lot of water. Maybe a hole in the pan?
We began to inspect the pan: there was no hole.
“It probably evaporated,” says Mishka. - We need to add more.
He transferred the excess grain from the pan to a plate and added water to the pan. They began to cook further. We cooked and cooked, and then we saw that the porridge was coming out again.
- Oh, damn you! - says Mishka. -Where are you going?
He grabbed a spoon and started putting away the extra grain again. I put it aside and poured a mug of water into it again.
“You see,” he says, “you thought there was a lot of water, but you still have to add it.”
Let's cook further. What a comedy! The mess comes out again.
I speak:
- You probably put in a lot of cereal. It swells and becomes crowded in the pan.
“Yes,” says Mishka, “it seems I added a little too much grain.” It’s all your fault: “Put in more,” he says. I want to eat!”
- How do I know how much to put in? You said you could cook.
- Well, I’ll cook it, just don’t interfere.
- Please, I won’t bother you.
I stepped aside, and Mishka was cooking, that is, he wasn’t cooking, he was just putting the extra grain into plates. The whole table is covered with plates, like in a restaurant, and water is being added all the time. I couldn't stand it and said:
-You're doing something wrong. So you can cook until the morning!
– What do you think, in a good restaurant they always cook dinner in the evening so that it’s ready in the morning.
“So,” I say, “in the restaurant!” They have nowhere to rush, they have a lot of food of all kinds.
- What’s the hurry for us?
“We need to eat and go to bed.” Look, it's almost twelve o'clock.
“You’ll have time,” he says, “to get some sleep.”
And again he poured a mug of water into the pan. Then I realized what was going on.
“You,” I say, “pour cold water all the time, how can it cook?”
- How do you think you can cook without water?
“Put out,” I say, “half the cereal and pour in more water at once, and let it cook.”
I took the pan from him and shook half of the cereal out of it.
“Pour it in,” I say, “now, water to the top.”
The bear took the mug and reached into the bucket.
“There’s no water,” he says. Everything came out.
- What are we going to do? How to go for water, what darkness! - I say. - And you won’t see the well.
- Nonsense! I will bring it now. He took the matches, tied a rope to the bucket and went to the well. He returns a minute later.
-Where is the water? - I ask.
- The water... is there, in the well.
“I know what’s in the well.” Where's the bucket of water?
“And the bucket,” he says, “is in the well.”
- What - in a well?
- Yes, in the well.
- Did you miss it?
- I missed it.
“Oh, you,” I say, “you’re a scumbag!” Well, do you want to starve us to death? How can we get water now?
- You can use a teapot.
I took the kettle and said:
- Give me the rope.
- But there is no rope.
-Where is she?
- There.
- Where exactly?
- Well... in the well.
- So you missed the bucket with the rope?
- Well, yes.
We began to look for another rope. Nowhere.
“Nothing,” says Mishka, “now I’ll go and ask the neighbors.”
“Crazy,” I say, “losing my mind!” Look at the clock: the neighbors have been sleeping for a long time.
Then, as if on purpose, we both felt thirsty; I think I’d give a hundred rubles for a mug of water! Mishka says:
– It always happens like this: when there is no water, you want to drink even more. Therefore, in the desert you are always thirsty, because there is no water there.
I speak:
- Don’t reason, but look for the rope.
– Where can I look for her? I looked everywhere. Let's tie the fishing line to the kettle.
- Will the fishing line hold up?
- Maybe it will hold out.
- What if he can’t stand it?
- Well, if it doesn’t hold up, then... it will break...
- This is known without you.
We unwound the fishing rod, tied the fishing line to the kettle and went to the well. I lowered the kettle into the well and filled it with water. The line was stretched like a string, about to burst.
- It won’t stand it! - I say. - I feel.
“Maybe if you lift it carefully, it will hold,” says Mishka.
I began to lift it slowly. As soon as I lifted it above the water, there was a splash - and there was no kettle.
– Couldn’t stand it? - asks Mishka.
- Of course, I couldn’t stand it. How to get water now?
“A samovar,” says Mishka.
- No, it’s better to just throw the samovar into the well, at least there’s no need to mess around with it. There is no rope.
- Well, with a saucepan.
“What do you think we have,” I say, “a pot shop?”
- Then a glass.
– That’s a lot of fussing to do while you’re applying it with a glass of water!
- What to do? You have to finish cooking the porridge. And I want to drink until I die.
“Come on,” I say, “with a mug.” The mug is still larger than the glass.
We came home and tied a fishing line to the mug so that it wouldn’t tip over. We returned to the well. They pulled out a mug of water and drank. Mishka says:
- It always happens like this. When you’re thirsty, it seems like you’ll drink a whole sea, but when you start drinking, you only drink one mug and don’t want any more, because people are greedy by nature...
I speak:
– There’s no point in slandering people here! Better bring the pan with the porridge here, we’ll put water straight into it, so we don’t have to run around twenty times with the mug.
Mishka brought the pan and placed it on the edge of the well. I didn’t notice her, caught her with my elbow and almost pushed her into the well.
- Oh, you bungler! - I say. - Why did you put a pan under my elbow? Take her in your hands and hold her tight. And move away from the well, otherwise the porridge will fly into the well.
Mishka took the pan and walked away from the well. I brought some water.
We came home. Our porridge has cooled down, the stove has gone out. We lit the stove again and started cooking porridge again. Finally it began to boil, became thick and began to puff: puff, puff!..
- ABOUT! - says Mishka. - It turned out to be a good porridge, noble lady!
I took a spoon and tried:
- Ugh! What kind of porridge is this! Bitter, unsalted and stinks of burning.
The bear also wanted to try it, but immediately spat it out.
“No,” he says, “I’ll die, but I won’t eat such porridge!”
- If you eat such porridge, you can die! - I say.
- What should we do?
- Don't know.
- We're weirdos! - says Mishka. - We have minnows!
I speak:
“There’s no time to bother with minnows now!” It will begin to get light soon.
- So we won’t cook them, but fry them. It’s quick – once, and you’re done.
“Well, go ahead,” I say, “if it’s quick.” And if it turns out like porridge, then it’s better not to.
- In a moment, you'll see.
The bear cleaned the minnows and put them in a frying pan. The frying pan got hot and the minnows stuck to it. The bear began to tear the minnows from the frying pan with a knife, and tore off all the sides with it.
- Smart ass! - I say. – Who fries fish without oil?
Mishka took a bottle of sunflower oil. He poured oil into a frying pan and put it in the oven directly on the hot coals so that they would fry faster. The oil hissed, crackled and suddenly burst into flames in the frying pan. Mishka pulled the frying pan out of the stove - the oil was burning on it. I wanted to fill it with water, but we don’t have a drop of water in the whole house. So it burned until all the oil was burned out. There is smoke and stench in the room, and only coals remain from the minnows.
“Well,” says Mishka, “what are we going to fry now?”
“No,” I say, “I won’t give you anything else to fry.” Not only will you ruin the food, but you will also start a fire. The whole house will burn down because of you. Enough!
- What to do? I really want to eat something!
We tried chewing raw cereal - it was disgusting. We tried raw onions - it was bitter. We tried to eat butter without bread - it was sickening. We found a jam jar. Well, we licked her and went to bed. It was already quite late.
The next morning we woke up hungry. The bear immediately went for grain to cook porridge. When I saw it, it even gave me a shiver.
- Do not dare! - I say. “Now I’ll go to the owner, Aunt Natasha, and ask her to cook porridge for us.”
We went to Aunt Natasha, told her everything, promised that Mishka and I would weed out all the weeds in her garden, just let her help us cook porridge. Aunt Natasha took pity on us: she gave us milk, gave us pies with cabbage, and then sat us down to have breakfast. We all ate and ate, so Aunt Natasha Vovka was surprised at us how hungry we were.
Finally we had eaten, asked Aunt Natasha for a rope and went to get a bucket and kettle from the well. We fiddled around a lot and if Mishka hadn’t come up with the idea of ​​making an anchor out of wire, we wouldn’t have gotten anything. And the anchor, like a hook, hooked both the bucket and the kettle. Nothing was missing - everything was taken out. And then Mishka, Vovka and I weeded the weeds in the garden.
Mishka said:
– Weeds are nonsense! Not at all difficult. Much easier than cooking porridge!

The story "Mishkina Porridge" by N.N. Nosov in pictures, read

Pictures are enlarged

Mishkina porridge

Once, when I was living with my mother at the dacha, Mishka came to visit me. I was so happy that I can’t even say! I miss Mishka very much.
Mom was also glad to see him.
“It’s very good that you came,” she said. - You two will have more fun here. By the way, I need to go to the city tomorrow. I might be late. Will you live here without me for two days?
“Of course, we’ll live,” I say. - We are not small!
- Only here you will have to cook dinner yourself. Can you do it?
“We can do it,” says Mishka. - What can’t you do!
- Well, cook some soup and porridge. It's easy to cook porridge.
- Let's cook some porridge. Why cook it? - says Mishka.

I speak:
- Look, Mishka, what if we can’t! You haven't cooked before.
- Don't worry! I saw my mother cooking. You will be full, you will not die of hunger. I’ll cook such porridge that you’ll lick your fingers!

The next morning, my mother left us bread for two days, jam so that we could drink tea, showed us where what foods were, explained how to cook soup and porridge, how much cereal to put in, how much of what. We listened to everything, but I didn’t remember anything. “Why,” I think, “since Mishka knows.”

Then mom left, and Mishka and I decided to go to the river to fish.
We set up fishing rods and dug up worms.
“Wait,” I say. - Who will cook dinner if we go to the river?
- What’s there to cook? - says Mishka. - One fuss! We'll eat all the bread and cook porridge for dinner. You can eat porridge without bread.
We cut some bread, spread it with jam and went to the river.

First we bathed, then we lay down on the sand. We bask in the sun and chew bread and jam. Then they started fishing.

Only the fish were not biting well: only a dozen minnows were caught. We spent the whole day hanging out on the river.

In the evening we returned home. Hungry!

Well, Mishka, I say, you’re an expert. What are we going to cook? Just something to make it faster. I really want to eat.

Let’s have some porridge,” says Mishka. - Porridge is easiest.
- Well, I’ll just porridge.
We lit the stove. The bear poured cereal into the pan.

I speak:
- The rash is bigger. I really want to eat!
He filled the pan full and filled it to the top with water.
- Isn't there a lot of water? - I ask. - It will be a mess.
- It’s okay, mom always does this. Just watch the stove, and I’ll cook, be calm.
Well, I look after the stove, add firewood, and Mishka cooks the porridge, that is, he doesn’t cook, but sits and looks at the pan, it cooks itself.

It soon got dark, we lit the lamp. We sit and wait for the porridge to cook.
Suddenly I see: the lid on the pan has lifted, and porridge is crawling out from under it.
“Mishka,” I say, “what is this?” Why is there porridge?
- Where?
- The jester knows where! It's coming out of the pan!

Mishka grabbed the spoon and began to push the porridge back into the pan. I crushed it and crushed it, but it seemed to swell in the pan and fell out.
“I don’t know,” says Mishka, “why she decided to get out.” Maybe it's ready already?

I took a spoon and tried it: the cereal was quite hard.
“Mishka,” I say, “where did the water go?” Completely dry cereal!
“I don’t know,” he says. - I poured a lot of water. Maybe a hole in the pan? We began to inspect the pan: there was no hole.
“It probably evaporated,” says Mishka. - We need to add more.
He transferred the excess grain from the pan to a plate and added water to the pan. They began to cook further. We cooked and cooked, and then we saw that the porridge was coming out again.
- Oh, damn you! - says Mishka. -Where are you going?
He grabbed a spoon and started putting away the extra grain again. I put it aside and poured a mug of water into it again.
“You see,” he says, “you thought there was a lot of water, but you still have to add it.” Let's cook further. What a comedy! The mess comes out again.

I speak:
- You probably put in a lot of cereal. It swells and becomes crowded in the pan.
“Yes,” says Mishka, “it seems I added a little too much grain.” It’s all your fault: “Put on more,” he says. “I’m hungry!”
- How do I know how much to put in? You said you could cook.
- Well, I’ll cook it, just don’t interfere.
- Please, I won’t bother you.

I stepped aside, and Mishka was cooking, that is, he wasn’t cooking, but just doing the extra grain into plates. The whole table is covered with plates, like in a restaurant, and water is being added all the time.
I couldn't stand it and said:
- You're doing something wrong. So you can cook until the morning!
- What do you think, in a good restaurant they always cook dinner in the evening so that it is ready in the morning.
“So,” I say, “in the restaurant!” They have nowhere to rush, they have a lot of food of all kinds.
- Why should we rush?
- We need to eat and go to bed. Look, it's almost twelve o'clock.
“You’ll have time,” he says, “to get some sleep.”
And again he poured a mug of water into the pan. Then I realized what was going on.

You, I say, pour cold water all the time, how can it cook?
- How do you think you can cook without water?
“Put out,” I say, “half the cereal and pour in more water at once, and let it cook.”
I took the pan from him and shook half of the cereal out of it.
“Pour it in,” I say, “now it’s full of water.” The bear took the mug and reached into the bucket.

“There is no water,” he says. Everything came out.
- What are we going to do? How to go for water, what darkness! - I say. - And you won’t see the well.
- Nonsense! I will bring it now. He took the matches, tied a rope to the bucket and went to the well.

He returns a minute later.

Where is the water? - I ask.
- Water... there, in the well.
- I myself know what’s in the well. Where's the bucket of water?
“And the bucket,” he says, “is in the well.”
- How - in a well?
- Yes, in the well.
- Missed it?
- I missed it.
“Oh, you,” I say, “you’re a scumbag!” Well, do you want to starve us to death? How can we get water now?
- You can use a teapot.
I took the kettle and said:
- Give me the rope.
- But it’s not there, there’s no rope.
- Where is she?
- There.
- Where exactly?
- Well... in the well.
- So you missed the bucket with the rope?
- Well, yes.
We began to look for another rope. Nowhere.
“Nothing,” says Mishka, “now I’ll go and ask the neighbors.”
“Crazy,” I say, “losing my mind!” Look at the clock: the neighbors have been sleeping for a long time.
Then, as if on purpose, we both felt thirsty; I think I’d give a hundred rubles for a mug of water!

Mishka says:
- It always happens like this: when there is no water, you want to drink even more.
Therefore, in the desert you are always thirsty, because there is no water there.
I speak:
- Don’t reason, but look for the rope.
- Where can I look for her? I looked everywhere. Let's tie the fishing line to the kettle.
- Will the fishing line hold up?
- Maybe it will hold out.
- What if he can’t stand it?
- Well, if it doesn’t hold up, then... it will break...
- This is known without you.
We unwound the fishing rod, tied the fishing line to the kettle and went to the well. I lowered the kettle into the well and filled it with water. The line was stretched like a string, about to burst.
- It won’t stand it! - I say. - I feel.
“Maybe if you lift it carefully, it will hold,” says Mishka.
I began to lift it slowly. I just lifted it above the water, splash - and there was no kettle.
- Couldn’t stand it? - asks Mishka.
- Of course, I couldn’t stand it. How to get water now?
“A samovar,” says Mishka.
- No, it’s better to just throw the samovar into the well, at least there’s no need to mess around with it. There is no rope.
- Well, with a saucepan.
“What do we have,” I say, “in your opinion, a pot shop?”
- Then a glass.

That's a lot of fiddling around while you're applying it with a glass of water!
- What to do? You have to finish cooking the porridge. And I want to drink until I die.
“Come on,” I say, “with a mug.” The mug is still larger than the glass.
We came home and tied a fishing line to the mug so that it wouldn’t tip over. We returned to the well. They pulled out a mug of water and drank.

Mishka says:
- It always happens like this. When you’re thirsty, it seems like you’ll drink a whole sea, but when you start drinking, you’ll only drink one mug and don’t want any more, because people are greedy by nature...
I speak:
- There’s no point in slandering people here! Better bring the pan with the porridge here, we’ll put water straight into it, so as not to run twenty times with the mug. Mishka brought the pan and put it on the edge of the well. I didn’t notice her, caught her with my elbow and almost pushed her into the well.
- Oh, you bungler! - I say. - Why did you put a pan under my elbow? Take her in your hands and hold her tight. And move away from the well, otherwise the porridge will fly into the well.
Mishka took the pan and walked away from the well. I brought some water.
We came home. Our porridge has cooled down, the stove has gone out. We lit the stove again and started cooking porridge again. Finally it began to boil, became thick and began to puff: puff, puff!..
- ABOUT! - says Mishka. - It turned out to be a good porridge, noble one! I took a spoon and tried:
- Ugh! What kind of porridge is this! Bitter, unsalted and stinks of burning. The bear also wanted to try it, but immediately spat it out.
“No,” he says, “I’ll die, but I won’t eat such porridge!”
- If you eat such porridge, you can die! - I say.
- What should we do?
- Don't know.

We're weirdos! - says Mishka. - We have minnows! I speak:
- There’s no time to bother with minnows now! It will begin to get light soon.
- So we won’t cook them, but fry them. It's quick - once and done.
“Come on,” I say, “if it’s quick.” And if it turns out like porridge, then it’s better not to.
- In a moment, you'll see.
The bear cleaned the minnows and put them in a frying pan. The frying pan got hot and the minnows stuck to it. The bear began to tear the minnows from the frying pan with a knife, and tore off all the sides with it.
- Smart ass! - I say. - Who fries fish without oil?
Mishka took a bottle of sunflower oil. He poured oil into a frying pan and put it in the oven directly on the hot coals so that they would fry faster. The oil hissed, crackled and suddenly burst into flames in the frying pan. Mishka pulled the frying pan out of the stove - the oil was burning on it. I wanted to fill it with water, but we don’t have a drop of water in the whole house. So it burned until all the oil was burned out. There is smoke and stench in the room, and only coals remain from the minnows.

Well,” says Mishka, “what are we going to fry now?”
“No,” I say, “I won’t give you anything else to fry.” Not only will you ruin the food, but you will also start a fire. The whole house will burn down because of you. Enough!
- What to do? I really want to eat!
We tried chewing raw cereal - it was disgusting. We tried raw onions - they were bitter. We tried to eat butter without bread - it was sickening. We found a jam jar. Well, we licked her and went to bed. It was already quite late.
The next morning we woke up hungry. The bear immediately went for grain to cook porridge. When I saw it, it even gave me a shiver.
- Do not dare! - I say. - Now I’ll go to the hostess, Aunt Natasha, and ask her to cook porridge for us.
We went to Aunt Natasha, told her everything, promised that Mishka and I would weed out all the weeds in her garden, just let her help us cook porridge. Aunt Natasha took pity on us: she gave us milk, gave us pies with cabbage, and then sat us down to have breakfast. We ate and ate, so Aunt Natasha Vovka was surprised at us how hungry we were.
Finally we had eaten, asked Aunt Natasha for a rope and went to get a bucket and kettle from the well. We fiddled around a lot and if Mishka hadn’t come up with the idea of ​​making an anchor out of wire, we wouldn’t have gotten anything. And the anchor, like a hook, hooked both the bucket and the kettle. Nothing was missing - everything was taken out. And then Mishka, Vovka and I weeded the weeds in the garden.
Mishka said:
- Weeds are nonsense! Not at all difficult. Much easier than cooking porridge!

When copying and posting on another site, please indicate the active link: https://www.

Nikolay Nosov
Mishkina porridge

Once, when I was living with my mother at the dacha, Mishka came to visit me. I was so happy that I can’t even say! I miss Mishka very much. Mom was also glad to see him.

“It’s very good that you came,” she said. “The two of you will have more fun here.” By the way, I need to go to the city tomorrow. I might be late. Will you live here without me for two days?

“Of course we’ll live,” I say. - We are not small!

“But you’ll have to cook your own lunch here.” Can you do it?

“We can do it,” says Mishka. - What can’t you do!

- Well, cook some soup and porridge. It's easy to cook porridge.

- Let's cook some porridge. Why cook it? - says Mishka. I speak:

- Look, Mishka, what if we can’t do it! You haven't cooked before.

- Don't worry! I saw my mother cooking. You will be full, you will not die of hunger. I’ll cook such porridge that you’ll lick your fingers!

The next morning, my mother left us bread for two days, jam so that we could drink tea, showed us where what foods were, explained how to cook soup and porridge, how much cereal to put in, how much of what. We all listened, but I didn’t remember anything. “Why,” I think, “since Mishka knows.”

Then mom left, and Mishka and I decided to go to the river to fish. We set up fishing rods and dug up worms.

“Wait,” I say. – Who will cook dinner if we go to the river?

- What’s there to cook? - says Mishka. - One fuss! We'll eat all the bread and cook porridge for dinner. You can eat porridge without bread.

We cut some bread, spread it with jam and went to the river. First we bathed, then we lay down on the sand. We bask in the sun and chew bread and jam. Then they started fishing. Only the fish were not biting well: only a dozen minnows were caught. We spent the whole day hanging out on the river. In the evening we returned home. Hungry!

“Well, Mishka,” I say, “you’re an expert.” What are we going to cook? Just something to make it faster. I really want to eat.

“Let’s have some porridge,” says Mishka. – Porridge is easiest.

- Well, I’ll just porridge.

We lit the stove. The bear poured cereal into the pan. I speak:

- The rash is bigger. I really want to eat!

He filled the pan full and filled it to the top with water.

– Isn’t there a lot of water? - I ask. - It will be a mess.

- It’s okay, mom always does this. Just watch the stove, and I’ll cook, be calm.

Well, I look after the stove, add firewood, and Mishka cooks the porridge, that is, he doesn’t cook, but sits and looks at the pan, it cooks itself.

It soon got dark, we lit the lamp. We sit and wait for the porridge to cook. Suddenly I see: the lid on the pan has lifted, and porridge is crawling out from under it.

“Mishka,” I say, “what is this?” Why is there porridge?

- The jester knows where! It's coming out of the pan!

Mishka grabbed the spoon and began to push the porridge back into the pan. I crushed it and crushed it, but it seemed to swell in the pan and fell out.

“I don’t know,” says Mishka, “why she decided to get out.” Maybe it's ready already?

I took a spoon and tried it: the cereal was quite hard.

“Mishka,” I say, “where did the water go?” Completely dry cereal!

“I don’t know,” he says. - I poured a lot of water. Maybe a hole in the pan?

We began to inspect the pan: there was no hole.

“It probably evaporated,” says Mishka. - We need to add more.

He transferred the excess grain from the pan to a plate and added water to the pan. They began to cook further. We cooked and cooked, and then we saw that the porridge was coming out again.

- Oh, damn you! - says Mishka. -Where are you going?

He grabbed a spoon and started putting away the extra grain again. I put it aside and poured a mug of water into it again.

“You see,” he says, “you thought there was a lot of water, but you still have to add it.”

I speak:

- You probably put in a lot of cereal. It swells and becomes crowded in the pan.

“Yes,” says Mishka, “it seems I added a little too much grain.” It’s all your fault: “Put on more,” he says. “I’m hungry!”

- How do I know how much to put in? You said you could cook.

- Well, I’ll cook it, just don’t interfere.

- Please, I won’t bother you.

I stepped aside, and Mishka was cooking, that is, he wasn’t cooking, he was just putting the extra grain into plates. The whole table is covered with plates, like in a restaurant, and water is being added all the time. I couldn't stand it and said:

-You're doing something wrong. So you can cook until the morning!

– What do you think, in a good restaurant they always cook dinner in the evening so that it’s ready in the morning.

“So,” I say, “in the restaurant!” They have nowhere to rush, they have a lot of food of all kinds.

- Why should we rush?

“We need to eat and go to bed.” Look, it's almost twelve o'clock.

“You’ll have time,” he says, “to get some sleep.”

And again he poured a mug of water into the pan. Then I realized what was going on.

“You,” I say, “pour cold water all the time, how can it cook?”

- How do you think you can cook without water?

“Put out,” I say, “half the cereal and pour in more water at once, and let it cook.”

I took the pan from him and shook half of the cereal out of it.

“Pour it in,” I say, “now, water to the top.”

The bear took the mug and reached into the bucket.

“There’s no water,” he says. Everything came out.

- What are we going to do? How to go for water, what darkness! - I say. - And you won’t see the well.

- Nonsense! I will bring it now. He took the matches, tied a rope to the bucket and went to the well. He returns a minute later.

-Where is the water? - I ask.

- The water... is there, in the well.

“I know what’s in the well.” Where's the bucket of water?

“And the bucket,” he says, “is in the well.”

- What - in a well?

- Yes, in the well.

- Did you miss it?

- I missed it.

“Oh, you,” I say, “you’re a scumbag!” Well, do you want to starve us to death? How can we get water now?

- You can use a teapot.

I took the kettle and said:

- Give me the rope.

- But there is no rope.

-Where is she?

- Where exactly?

- Well... in the well.

- So you missed the bucket with the rope?

We began to look for another rope. Nowhere.

“Nothing,” says Mishka, “now I’ll go and ask the neighbors.”

“Crazy,” I say, “losing my mind!” Look at the clock: the neighbors have been sleeping for a long time.

Then, as if on purpose, we both felt thirsty; I think I’d give a hundred rubles for a mug of water! Mishka says:

– It always happens like this: when there is no water, you want to drink even more. Therefore, in the desert you are always thirsty, because there is no water there.

I speak:

- Don’t reason, but look for the rope.

– Where can I look for her? I looked everywhere. Let's tie the fishing line to the kettle.

- Will the fishing line hold up?

- Maybe it will hold out.

- What if he can’t stand it?

- Well, if it doesn’t hold up, then... it will break...

- This is known without you.

We unwound the fishing rod, tied the fishing line to the kettle and went to the well. I lowered the kettle into the well and filled it with water. The line was stretched like a string, about to burst.

- It won’t stand it! - I say. - I feel.

“Maybe if you lift it carefully, it will hold,” says Mishka.

I began to lift it slowly. As soon as I lifted it above the water, there was a splash - and there was no kettle.

– Couldn’t stand it? - asks Mishka.

- Of course, I couldn’t stand it. How to get water now?

“A samovar,” says Mishka.

- No, it’s better to just throw the samovar into the well, at least there’s no need to mess around with it. There is no rope.

- Well, with a saucepan.

“What do we have,” I say, “in your opinion, a pot shop?”

- Then a glass.

– That’s a lot of fussing to do while you’re applying it with a glass of water!

- What to do? You have to finish cooking the porridge. And I want to drink until I die.

“Come on,” I say, “with a mug.” The mug is still larger than the glass.

We came home and tied a fishing line to the mug so that it wouldn’t tip over. We returned to the well. They pulled out a mug of water and drank. Mishka says:

- It always happens like this. When you’re thirsty, it seems like you’ll drink a whole sea, but when you start drinking, you only drink one mug and don’t want any more, because people are greedy by nature...

I speak:

– There’s no point in slandering people here! Better bring the pan with the porridge here, we’ll put water straight into it, so we don’t have to run around twenty times with the mug.

Mishka brought the pan and placed it on the edge of the well. I didn’t notice her, caught her with my elbow and almost pushed her into the well.

- Oh, you bungler! - I say. - Why did you put a pan under my elbow? Take her in your hands and hold her tight. And move away from the well, otherwise the porridge will fly into the well.

Mishka took the pan and walked away from the well. I brought some water.

We came home. Our porridge has cooled down, the stove has gone out. We lit the stove again and started cooking porridge again. Finally it began to boil, became thick and began to puff: puff, puff!..

- ABOUT! - says Mishka. - It turned out to be a good porridge, noble lady!

I took a spoon and tried:

- Ugh! What kind of porridge is this! Bitter, unsalted and stinks of burning.

The bear also wanted to try it, but immediately spat it out.

“No,” he says, “I’ll die, but I won’t eat such porridge!”

- If you eat such porridge, you can die! - I say.

- What should we do?

- Don't know.

- We're weirdos! - says Mishka. - We have minnows!

I speak:

“There’s no time to bother with minnows now!” It will begin to get light soon.

- So we won’t cook them, but fry them. It’s quick – once, and you’re done.

“Well, go ahead,” I say, “if it’s quick.” And if it turns out like porridge, then it’s better not to.

- In a moment, you'll see.

The bear cleaned the minnows and put them in a frying pan. The frying pan got hot and the minnows stuck to it. The bear began to tear the minnows from the frying pan with a knife, and tore off all the sides with it.

- Smart ass! - I say. – Who fries fish without oil?

Mishka took a bottle of sunflower oil. He poured oil into a frying pan and put it in the oven directly on the hot coals so that they would fry faster. The oil hissed, crackled and suddenly burst into flames in the frying pan. Mishka pulled the frying pan out of the stove - the oil was burning on it. I wanted to fill it with water, but we don’t have a drop of water in the whole house. So it burned until all the oil was burned out. There is smoke and stench in the room, and only coals remain from the minnows.

“Well,” says Mishka, “what are we going to fry now?”

“No,” I say, “I won’t give you anything else to fry.” Not only will you ruin the food, but you will also start a fire. The whole house will burn down because of you. Enough!

- What to do? I really want to eat!

We tried chewing raw cereal - it was disgusting. We tried raw onions - it was bitter. We tried to eat butter without bread - it was sickening. We found a jam jar. Well, we licked her and went to bed. It was already quite late.

The next morning we woke up hungry. The bear immediately went for grain to cook porridge. When I saw it, it even gave me a shiver.

- Do not dare! - I say. “Now I’ll go to the owner, Aunt Natasha, and ask her to cook porridge for us.”

We went to Aunt Natasha, told her everything, promised that Mishka and I would weed out all the weeds in her garden, just let her help us cook porridge. Aunt Natasha took pity on us: she gave us milk, gave us pies with cabbage, and then sat us down to have breakfast. We all ate and ate, so Aunt Natasha Vovka was surprised at us how hungry we were.

Finally we had eaten, asked Aunt Natasha for a rope and went to get a bucket and kettle from the well. We fiddled around a lot and if Mishka hadn’t come up with the idea of ​​making an anchor out of wire, we wouldn’t have gotten anything. And the anchor, like a hook, hooked both the bucket and the kettle. Nothing was missing - everything was taken out. And then Mishka, Vovka and I weeded the weeds in the garden.

Mishka said:

– Weeds are nonsense! Not at all difficult. Much easier than cooking porridge!

Nosov N.N. — Mishkina porridge

5 (100%) from 1 voters