Aunt Turtle decided to bake pies. Enough - no yeast. - Wake up, Cherepakhovich, you've had enough sleep! Run to godfather Zaychikha, ask for yeast. Cherepakhovich grumbled something sleepily, opened his sleepy eyes and asked displeasedly: “What do you want?” “Run, I say, to godfather Zaychikha for yeast...” “I haven’t run anywhere in my life.” “I can go,” Cherepakhovich muttered. He sat down, thought, scratched his lower back and, groaning, carefully climbed out of the stove. “You better be quicker, my poor turtle!” - Aunt Turtle hurried. - Why such a rush? It’s not for nothing that they say: “If you hurry, you’ll make people laugh.” While he was getting off, while he put his feet in his felt boots, while he was putting on his coat and putting his hat on his head, nothing had happened for a week. “And why are you trampling around!” I would have walked faster, time is running out.” “But I put the sash somewhere, I can’t find it.” “I knew it!” - exclaimed Aunt Turtle and, together with Turtle, began to look for the loss. And the turtle’s fuss is well known: while they were looking, another week had passed. Cherepakhovich raised his collar, lifted his leg over the threshold, followed by the other... Things went well. - Look, don’t hesitate, she invited guests for pies! - I know, I know... - And did you grab the vessel? “And you’re still marking time, like a bear at an apiary,” said Aunt Turtle, holding out a vessel for yeast. “Just think, what a miracle—Hare!” Jump-sniff - that's all valor. But I am, after all, a wealthy owner: wherever I go, there is a roof over my head. You need to understand this! Having adjusted the vessel in his bosom more comfortably, Turtleovich pulled his hat over his eyes and went to the Hare. He left, and Aunt Turtle rejoiced: the guests will eat plenty of delicious, crispy pies, with cabbage, onions and mushrooms! And she started preparing the filling. It was completely dark, it was time for Cherepakhovich to return, but he was gone. The invited guests never got to taste the turtle pies. So the day has passed, another has come - there is no yeast, no Cherepakhovich. A year has passed, another and a third. Cherepakhovich disappeared like an ax in an ice hole. “And did he disappear somewhere? At least he sent it far away, otherwise it’s just a stone’s throw...” Aunt Turtle was thinking. Another four years passed. “Let me,” thinks Aunt Turtle, “I’ll run to the outskirts and have a look.” She threw on a scarf and moved towards the door - lo and behold, Cherepakhovich was walking down the street, hurrying and hurrying, carrying yeast in a clay vessel, pressing it tightly to his chest so as not to drop it. - Well, finally! Aunt Turtle was delighted. Not even an hour had passed, Turtle turned into his yard, went to the door, stopped at the threshold to rest. Having caught his breath, he began to climb over the threshold. I dragged one leg safely, but caught myself with a torn felt boot and stretched out to my full height. The head is in the hut, and the feet are outside the door. The vessel shattered and yeast began to flow throughout the hut. “Oh, you fast walker!” I carried it for seven years and didn’t make it to the hut! I just wasted my time in vain! “Yessss...” Cherepakhovich grumbled. “I told you, don’t rush it, it will get worse.” And so it happened! It’s not for nothing that they say: “If you hurry, you’ll make people laugh.”
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru