JК
Diaboliad :: Булгаков Михаил Афанасьевич
Страница: 5 из 30Never mind, we'll put all that in order. («He-elp!» Korotkov groaned to himself.) Give me that!»
With these words the stranger snatched the memo out of Korotkov's hands, read it through, pulled a chewed indelible pencil out of his trouser pocket, put the memo on the wall and scribbled a few words on it.
«There you are!» he barked, thrusting the memo at Korotkov so hard that he almost put out his other eye. The office door howled and swallowed up the stranger, while Korotkov stood there dumbfounded. Chekushin's office was empty.
A few seconds later the disconcerted Korotkov came to when he collided with Lidochka de Runi, Comrade Chekushin's private secretary.
«Oh, dear!» sighed Comrade Korotkov. One of Lidochka's eyes was covered with a bandage just like his, except that the ends were tied in a coquettish bow.
«What's the matter with your eye?»
«Matches!» Lidochka replied angrily. «Wretched things.»
«Who's that in there?» the devastated Korotkov asked in a whisper.
«Don't you know?» Lidochka whispered back. «The new boss.»
«What?» Korotkov squealed. «Where's Chekushin?»
«Got the sack yesterday,» Lidochka said angrily, and added, pointing a finger in the direction of the office: «He's a real old buffer. A right terror. Never seen anyone so revolting in all my life. Shouts the place down. 'You'll get the sack! Bald pants!» she added so unexpectedly that Korotkov goggled at her.
«What's his na…»
Before Korotkov had time to finish his question, a terrible voice boomed «Messenger!» from the office. The Chief Clerk and the secretary fled in opposite directions. Diving into his office, Korotkov sat down at his desk and delivered the following speech to himself:
«Watch out, Korotkov, old boy. You've landed in a bit of a mess. We'll have to put things right. 'Immature' indeed. Cheeky devil! You'll see how immature Korotkov is!»
With his one good eye the Chief Clerk read the bald man's missive. Scrawled across the paper were the words: «All typists and women staff in general will be issued in good time with military uniform longjohns.»
«Oo, that'll be the day!» Korotkov exclaimed with delight, shuddering voluptuously at the thought of Lidochka wearing longjohns. Without further ado, he took a clean sheet of paper and composed the following.
«Telephonogram.
«To the head of Supplies Sub-Section stop. In reply to your memorandum No. 0.
With these words the stranger snatched the memo out of Korotkov's hands, read it through, pulled a chewed indelible pencil out of his trouser pocket, put the memo on the wall and scribbled a few words on it.
«There you are!» he barked, thrusting the memo at Korotkov so hard that he almost put out his other eye. The office door howled and swallowed up the stranger, while Korotkov stood there dumbfounded. Chekushin's office was empty.
A few seconds later the disconcerted Korotkov came to when he collided with Lidochka de Runi, Comrade Chekushin's private secretary.
«Oh, dear!» sighed Comrade Korotkov. One of Lidochka's eyes was covered with a bandage just like his, except that the ends were tied in a coquettish bow.
«What's the matter with your eye?»
«Matches!» Lidochka replied angrily. «Wretched things.»
«Who's that in there?» the devastated Korotkov asked in a whisper.
«Don't you know?» Lidochka whispered back. «The new boss.»
«What?» Korotkov squealed. «Where's Chekushin?»
«Got the sack yesterday,» Lidochka said angrily, and added, pointing a finger in the direction of the office: «He's a real old buffer. A right terror. Never seen anyone so revolting in all my life. Shouts the place down. 'You'll get the sack! Bald pants!» she added so unexpectedly that Korotkov goggled at her.
«What's his na…»
Before Korotkov had time to finish his question, a terrible voice boomed «Messenger!» from the office. The Chief Clerk and the secretary fled in opposite directions. Diving into his office, Korotkov sat down at his desk and delivered the following speech to himself:
«Watch out, Korotkov, old boy. You've landed in a bit of a mess. We'll have to put things right. 'Immature' indeed. Cheeky devil! You'll see how immature Korotkov is!»
With his one good eye the Chief Clerk read the bald man's missive. Scrawled across the paper were the words: «All typists and women staff in general will be issued in good time with military uniform longjohns.»
«Oo, that'll be the day!» Korotkov exclaimed with delight, shuddering voluptuously at the thought of Lidochka wearing longjohns. Without further ado, he took a clean sheet of paper and composed the following.
«Telephonogram.
«To the head of Supplies Sub-Section stop. In reply to your memorandum No. 0.