JК
Diaboliad :: Булгаков Михаил Афанасьевич
Страница: 16 из 30Tuesday and Thursday both begin with a T, and Wednesday … Wednessss … with an S, like Saturday…»
Longjohn scribbled noisily on a piece ofpaper, stamped it with a thump and thrust it at him. At that moment the phone rang furiously. Longjohn snatched up the receiver and yelled into it:
«Uhuh! Okay. Okay. I'm just leaving.»
He raced over to the coat-rack, grabbed his cap, covered his bald patch with it and vanished through the door with the parting words:
«Wait for me at Longjohn's.»
Everything really swam before Korotkov's eyes, when he read what was written on the paper with the stamp.
«The bearer of this is really my assistant Comrade Vassily Pavlovich Kolobkov, which is really true. Longjohn.»
«Oooh!» groaned Korotkov, dropping the paper and his cap on the floor. «What is going on?»
At that moment the door sang shrilly, and Longjohn returned in his beard.
«Longjohn gone, has he?» he asked Korotkov in a high, affectionate voice.
Everything went dark.
«Aaah!» Korotkov howled, unable to endure the torture, and beside himself with fury, rushed at Longjohn, baring his teeth. Longjohn's face turned yellow with horror. Backing into the door, he opened it with a clatter, tumbled into the corridor, losing his balance, and squatted on his heels, then jumped up and ran off shouting:
«Messenger! Messenger! Help!»
«Stop! Stop! I beg of you, Comrade,» cried Korotkov, coming to and rushing after him.
There was a bang in the General Office, and the falcons jumped up as if by order. The woman's dreamy eyes leapt up from the typewriter.
«They'll shoot! They'll shoot!» she shouted hysterically.
Longjohn ran into the vestibule first, onto the dias where the organ was, hesitated for a moment, wondering where to go, then rushed off, cutting a corner, and disappeared behind the organ. Korotkov raced after him, slipped and would probably had banged his head on the rail, if it hadn't been for a huge black crooked handle sticking out of the yellow side. It caught Korotkov's coat, the worn cloth tore with a quiet squeal, and Korotkov sat gently down on the cold floor. The side door behind the organ banged to after Longjohn.
«Goodness…» began Korotkov, but did not finish.
The impressive box with dusty copper pipes emitted a strange sound like a glass breaking, followed by a deep dusty growl, a strange chromatic squeak and the stroke of a bell. Then came a resonant major chord, an ebullient full-blooded stream, and the whole three-tiered yellow box began to play, turning over deposits of stagnating sound.
Longjohn scribbled noisily on a piece ofpaper, stamped it with a thump and thrust it at him. At that moment the phone rang furiously. Longjohn snatched up the receiver and yelled into it:
«Uhuh! Okay. Okay. I'm just leaving.»
He raced over to the coat-rack, grabbed his cap, covered his bald patch with it and vanished through the door with the parting words:
«Wait for me at Longjohn's.»
Everything really swam before Korotkov's eyes, when he read what was written on the paper with the stamp.
«The bearer of this is really my assistant Comrade Vassily Pavlovich Kolobkov, which is really true. Longjohn.»
«Oooh!» groaned Korotkov, dropping the paper and his cap on the floor. «What is going on?»
At that moment the door sang shrilly, and Longjohn returned in his beard.
«Longjohn gone, has he?» he asked Korotkov in a high, affectionate voice.
Everything went dark.
«Aaah!» Korotkov howled, unable to endure the torture, and beside himself with fury, rushed at Longjohn, baring his teeth. Longjohn's face turned yellow with horror. Backing into the door, he opened it with a clatter, tumbled into the corridor, losing his balance, and squatted on his heels, then jumped up and ran off shouting:
«Messenger! Messenger! Help!»
«Stop! Stop! I beg of you, Comrade,» cried Korotkov, coming to and rushing after him.
There was a bang in the General Office, and the falcons jumped up as if by order. The woman's dreamy eyes leapt up from the typewriter.
«They'll shoot! They'll shoot!» she shouted hysterically.
Longjohn ran into the vestibule first, onto the dias where the organ was, hesitated for a moment, wondering where to go, then rushed off, cutting a corner, and disappeared behind the organ. Korotkov raced after him, slipped and would probably had banged his head on the rail, if it hadn't been for a huge black crooked handle sticking out of the yellow side. It caught Korotkov's coat, the worn cloth tore with a quiet squeal, and Korotkov sat gently down on the cold floor. The side door behind the organ banged to after Longjohn.
«Goodness…» began Korotkov, but did not finish.
The impressive box with dusty copper pipes emitted a strange sound like a glass breaking, followed by a deep dusty growl, a strange chromatic squeak and the stroke of a bell. Then came a resonant major chord, an ebullient full-blooded stream, and the whole three-tiered yellow box began to play, turning over deposits of stagnating sound.