A long time ago, at the crossroads of two roads, there lived a poor blacksmith. Day after day he somehow eked out a living on the few sous he earned by shoeing horses, mules and donkeys for passing gentlemen. He was so poor that they even called him Uncle Misfortune. The dog, who shared all the hardships with the blacksmith, was given the nickname Poverty. As befits all unfortunates, they lived in perfect harmony and appeared everywhere together: either Poverty ran after Misfortune, or Uncle Misfortune followed after Poverty.
So they lived and lived, until one day at dawn the Lord God and Saint Peter knocked on their door. Poverty barked, Uncle Misfortune woke up and, grumbling, opened the door to the early travelers. Saint Peter said:
- Uncle Misfortune, here stands my master. He wants you to shoe his donkey. How long will this take?
“You came at an early hour, my gentlemen, but it doesn’t matter.” Although you may look poor, you are honest people, and I am glad to serve you. I can handle it quickly.
Uncle Misfortune fanned the fire, added coals, and in just half an hour shod the donkey.
- That's it, my gentlemen.
“Okay,” said the Lord God, “how much should I pay you?”
- Don’t be offended, but I already said that, apparently, you are poor people; so I won't take anything from you
- Nothing? This is too little.
- No, I will only accept your blessing.
“In that case, I will reward you differently.” I am the Lord God, and my servant is Saint Peter. I will fulfill your three wishes. Tell me what you want.
Uncle Misfortune scratched first the back of his head, then behind his ear, wondering what he could ask of God.
“Ask him to leave you a place in heaven,” suggested Saint Peter.
- Wait... wait... Here's what: I want whoever sits in this chair cannot get out of it without my permission.
- Not a difficult request. Agree. Name your second wish.
“Ask for a place in heaven,” whispered Saint Peter. Uncle Misfortune again scratched the back of his head and behind his ear.
“My second wish is this: I want whoever climbs this tree to not be able to get down from it without my permission.”
- Also easy to do. Agree. What's your last wish?
- Don't forget about heaven, idiot! - exclaimed the holy gatekeeper of heaven.
But the blacksmith, not paying attention to him, continued:
“And here is my last wish: I want that what goes into this wallet cannot come out of it without my permission.”
- You need a little to be happy. I will fulfill all your requests. Use my gifts wisely, and goodbye.
- Goodbye, goodbye, Mr. God.
“You will repent yet, you unfortunate fool,” muttered Saint Peter.
The Lord God climbed onto the donkey, Saint Peter took the reins, and they departed.
From that day on, as if on purpose, travelers almost stopped appearing at the crossroads, and soon Uncle Misfortune saw that he and his dog Poverty, of which only skin and bones remained, could not escape starvation.
The devil got wind of this, and then one day he knocked on the blacksmith’s door.
“Uncle Misfortune, I know that you haven’t eaten anything for three days and a wallet with money would be very useful for you.” I can offer you ten thousand crowns, but on one condition.
- So that I would give you my soul for them?
- Right. So that in ten years you will give me your Soul, if by this time you do not have money to pay me.
- Well, it's decided. Where's the money?
- This is a really difficult matter! Open your wallet and you will see.
And the devil immediately became small. The blacksmith grabbed it and put it in his wallet.
“You see,” said the devil, “how small I can become if I want.”
- Very good. And get out of my wallet; can?
The devil tried, but couldn't. Then he realized that he had once again fallen into the blacksmith's trap.
- Well, now, Mister Devil, hold on. I'll teach you a lesson.
The blacksmith put the wallet on the anvil, and hammer blows fell like hail on the poor devil, who screamed and howled like a madman.
- Have mercy, have mercy, I will never come again! I swear to you this! All my bones are broken. Let me go, let me go!
Tired of beating, Uncle Misfortune allowed the devil to get out of his wallet and never saw him again for the rest of his life.
He died very old. That same day, his dog died, and so Misfortune and Poverty walked one after another along the road that led to heaven.
They reached a beautiful palace. Uncle Misfortune realized that this was heaven, and knocked.
-Who's there? - a voice asked from inside. The door opened slightly and St. Peter's head poked out.
- Oh, is it you, Misfortune? Move on. You did not want to ask for heaven, as I advised you, so much the worse for you.
No matter how much Uncle Misfortune begged, no matter how much he begged, the door slammed shut.
“Come on, Poverty, maybe we’ll be happier in that big brick house you see from here.”
Poverty ran forward, Uncle Misfortune followed her.
We came to the door of purgatory. Here, here, here. The door was opened by an angel.
-Who are you?
“I’m Uncle Misfortune and I’d like to get a place here.”
- Have you already been to heaven?
“I just came from there, but Saint Peter didn’t want to accept me.”
- Wait a minute. I'll see if your name is written in my big book.
The angel leafed through the book, but found nothing.
- Poor Uncle Misfortune, you will have to ask for a place in hell. On this road, take the first left.
The door slammed, and Uncle Misfortune sadly wandered towards the doors of hell.
The devil himself discovered it. Recognizing Uncle Misfortune, he shouted:
- Oh, is it you again? Get out of here quickly! What the hell, you’ll start making your jokes here too, but I don’t like them. Good riddance!
Expelled from heaven, purgatory and hell, Uncle Misfortune returned to earth and lives there to this day.
Many have met Uncle Misfortune with his dog Poverty, and many will meet him again.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru