Denis' stories. Deniska's stories of the dragoon Read Deniska's stories

The stories about Denisk have been translated into many languages ​​of the world and even into Japanese. Victor Dragunsky wrote a sincere and cheerful preface to the Japanese collection: “I was born quite a long time ago and quite far, one might even say, in another part of the world. As a child, I loved to fight and never let myself be offended. As you can imagine, my hero was Tom Sawyer, and never, by any means, Sid. I'm sure you share my point of view. At school, I studied, frankly, it doesn’t matter ... From early childhood, I fell in love with the circus and still love it. I was a clown. About the circus, I wrote the story "Today and daily." In addition to the circus, I really love little children. I write about children and for children. This is my whole life, its meaning.

"Deniska's stories" are funny stories with a sensitive vision of important details, they are instructive, but without moralizing. If you have not read them yet, start with the most touching stories and the story "Childhood Friend" is best suited for this role.

Deniskin Stories: Childhood Friend

When I was six or six and a half years old, I had absolutely no idea who I would eventually be in this world. I really liked all the people around and all the work too. I then had a terrible confusion in my head, I was kind of confused and could not really decide what I should do.

Either I wanted to be an astronomer, so as not to sleep at night and observe distant stars through a telescope, or I dreamed of becoming a sea captain in order to stand with my legs apart on the captain's bridge and visit distant Singapore and buy a funny monkey there. Otherwise, I was dying to turn into a subway driver or station manager and walk around in a red cap and shout in a thick voice:

- Go-o-tov!

Or I had an appetite to learn to be the kind of artist who draws white stripes on the asphalt for speeding cars. And then it seemed to me that it would be nice to become a brave traveler like Alain Bombard and cross all the oceans on a fragile shuttle, eating only raw fish. True, this Bombar lost twenty-five kilograms after his trip, and I only weighed twenty-six, so it turned out that if I also swam like him, then I would have absolutely nowhere to lose weight, I would weigh only one at the end of the trip. kilo. What if I don’t catch one or two fish somewhere and lose a little more weight? Then I'll probably just melt in the air like smoke, that's all.

When I calculated all this, I decided to abandon this idea, and the next day I was already impatient to become a boxer, because I saw the European boxing championship on TV. How they thrashed each other - just some kind of horror! And then they showed their training, and here they were already beating a heavy leather "pear" - such an oblong heavy ball, you have to hit it with all your might, hit it with all your might, in order to develop the force of impact in yourself. And I saw so much of it all that I also decided to become the strongest man in the yard in order to beat everyone, in which case.

I told dad

- Dad, buy me a pear!

- It's January, there are no pears. Eat some carrots.

I laughed.

- No, dad, not like that! Not an edible pear! You, please, buy me an ordinary leather punching bag!

- And why do you need it? Dad said.

“Practice,” I said. - Because I will be a boxer and I will beat everyone. Buy it, huh?

- How much is such a pear? Dad asked.

“Nothing,” I said. - Rubles ten or fifty.

"You're crazy, brother," said dad. - Get over somehow without a pear. Nothing will happen to you. And he got dressed and went to work. And I was offended at him for the fact that he refused me so with a laugh. And my mother immediately noticed that I was offended, and immediately said:

Wait, I think I've come up with something. Come on, come on, wait a minute.

And she bent down and pulled out a large wicker basket from under the sofa; it was stacked with old toys that I no longer played with. Because I had already grown up and in the fall I had to buy a school uniform and a cap with a shiny visor.

Mom began to dig into this basket, and while she was digging, I saw my old tram without wheels and on a string, a plastic pipe, a dented top, one arrow with a rubber blotch, a piece of a sail from a boat, and several rattles, and many other different toys. junk. And suddenly mom took out a healthy teddy bear from the bottom of the basket.

She threw it on my sofa and said:

- Here. This is the one that Aunt Mila gave you. You were then two years old. Good Mishka, excellent. Look how tight! What a fat belly! Look how it rolled out! Why not a pear? Better! And you don't have to buy! Let's train as much as you like! Get started!

And then she was called to the phone, and she went out into the corridor.

And I was very happy that my mother came up with such a great idea. And I made Mishka more comfortable on the couch, so that it would be more convenient for me to train on him and develop the power of impact.

He sat in front of me so chocolate, but very mangy, and he had different eyes: one of his own - yellow glass, and the other big white - from a button from a pillowcase; I didn't even remember when he showed up. But it didn’t matter, because Mishka looked at me rather cheerfully with his different eyes, and he spread his legs and stuck out his stomach towards me, and raised both hands up, as if joking that he was already giving up in advance ...

And I looked at him like that and suddenly remembered how a long time ago I never parted with this Mishka for a minute, dragged him everywhere with me, and nursed him, and seated him at the table next to me to dine, and fed him from a spoon semolina, and he had such a funny muzzle when I smeared him with something, even with the same porridge or jam, he had such a funny cute muzzle then, just like a living one, and I put him to bed with me, and rocked him , like a little brother, and whispered various tales to him right into his velvet, hard ears, and I loved him then, loved him with all my heart, then I would give my life for him. And now he is sitting on the couch, my former best friend, a real childhood friend. Here he is sitting, laughing with different eyes, and I want to train the force of impact about him ...

- What are you, - said my mother, she had already returned from the corridor. - What happened to you?

And I didn’t know what was happening to me, I was silent for a long time and turned away from my mother so that she wouldn’t guess by her voice or lips what was happening to me, and I lifted my head to the ceiling so that the tears rolled back, and then, when I held myself together a little , I said:

- What are you talking about, mom? With me nothing ... I just changed my mind. It's just that I'll never be a boxer.

About the author.
Viktor Dragunsky lived a long, interesting life. But not everyone knows that before becoming a writer, in his early youth he changed many occupations and at the same time succeeded in everyone: a turner, a saddler, an actor, a director, an author of small plays, a “red” clown in the arena of the Moscow circus. With the same respect, he treated any work that he did in his life. He loved children very much, and the children were drawn to him, feeling in him a kind elder comrade and friend. When he was an actor, he willingly performed in front of children, usually in the role of Santa Claus during the winter holidays. He was a kind, cheerful person, but implacable to injustice and lies.

Viktor Yuzefovich Dragunsky is a man of amazing destiny. He was born on November 30, 1913 in New York to a family of emigrants from Russia. However, already in 1914, shortly before the outbreak of the First World War, the family returned back and settled in Gomel, where Dragunsky spent his childhood. Together with his stepfather, actor Mikhail Rubin, at the age of ten, he began performing on provincial stages: he recited couplets, tapped and parodied. In his youth, he worked as a boatman on the Moscow River, as a turner at a factory, and as a saddler in a sports workshop. By a happy coincidence, in 1930, Viktor Dragunsky entered the literary and theater workshop of Alexei Diky, and here an interesting stage in his biography begins - acting. In 1935 he began performing as an actor. Since 1940, he has been publishing feuilletons and humorous stories, writing songs, interludes, clownery, and scenes for the stage and circus. During the Great Patriotic War, Dragunsky was in the militia, and then performed at the fronts with concert brigades. For a little over a year he worked as a clown in the circus, but returned to the theater again. At the Theater of the Film Actor, he organized an ensemble of literary and theatrical parody, uniting young underemployed actors in the amateur troupe "Blue Bird". Dragunsky played several roles in films. He was almost fifty when his books for children with strange names began to appear: “Twenty Years Under the Bed”, “No Bang, No Bang”, “Professor of Sour Soup” ... Dragunsky's first Deniska stories became instantly popular. Books from this series were printed in large numbers.

However, Viktor Dragunsky wrote prose works for adults as well. In 1961, the story "He Fell on the Grass" was published about the very first days of the war. In 1964, the story "Today and Daily" was published, telling about the life of circus workers. The main character of this book is a clown.

Viktor Yuzefovich Dragunsky died in Moscow on May 6, 1972. The writing dynasty of the Dragunskys was continued by his son Denis, who became a quite successful writer, and his daughter Ksenia Dragunskaya, a brilliant children's writer and playwright.

A close friend of Dragunsky, children's poet Yakov Akim once said: “A young person needs all vitamins, including all moral vitamins. Vitamins of kindness, nobility, honesty, decency, courage. All these vitamins were given generously and talentedly to our children by Viktor Dragunsky.

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Victor Dragunsky
Deniskin's stories

Paul's Englishman

“Tomorrow is the first of September,” my mother said, “and now autumn has come, and you will go to the second grade already. Oh, how time flies!

- And on this occasion, - dad picked up, - we will now "slaughter a watermelon"!

And he took a knife and cut the watermelon. When he cut, such a full, pleasant, green crackle was heard that my back turned cold with a premonition of how I would eat this watermelon. And I had already opened my mouth to clutch at a pink watermelon slice, but then the door opened and Pavel entered the room. We were all terribly happy, because he had not been with us for a long time, and we missed him.

- Whoa, who's here! Dad said. - Pavel himself. Pavel the Warthog himself!

“Sit down with us, Pavlik, there is a watermelon,” my mother said. - Deniska, move over.

I said:

- Hello! - and gave him a place next to him.

He said:

- Hello! - and sat down.

And we began to eat, and ate for a long time, and were silent. We didn't feel like talking. And what is there to talk about when there is such deliciousness in the mouth!

And when Paul was given the third piece, he said:

Oh, I love watermelon. Even more. My grandmother never lets me eat it.

- And why? Mom asked.

- She says that after a watermelon I get not a dream, but a continuous running around.

“Really,” Dad said. - That's why we eat watermelon early in the morning. By evening, its action ends and you can sleep peacefully. Come on, don't be afraid.

“I am not afraid,” said Pavel.

And we all got down to business again, and again we were silent for a long time. And when mom began to remove the crusts, dad said:

“And why, Pavel, haven’t been with us for so long?”

“Yes,” I said. - Where have you been? What did you do?

And then Pavel puffed up, blushed, looked around, and suddenly casually let slip, as if reluctantly:

- What did he do, what did he do ... He studied English, that's what he did.

I was right in a hurry. I immediately realized that all summer was in vain. He fiddled with hedgehogs, played bast shoes, dealt with trifles. But Pavel, he did not waste time, no, you're naughty, he worked on himself, he raised his level of education. He studied English and now I suppose he will be able to correspond with English pioneers and read English books! I immediately felt that I was dying of envy, and then my mother added:

- Here, Deniska, study. This is not your lappet!

- Well done, - said dad, - respect!

Pavel directly beamed:

- A student, Seva, came to visit us. So he works with me every day. It's been two whole months now. Totally tortured.

What about difficult English? I asked.

"Go crazy," Pavel sighed.

“It wouldn’t be difficult,” Dad intervened. - The devil himself will break his leg there. Very difficult spelling. It is spelled Liverpool and pronounced Manchester.

- Well, yes! - I said. - Right, Pavel?

- It’s just a disaster, - said Pavel, - I was completely exhausted from these activities, I lost two hundred grams.

- So why don't you use your knowledge, Pavlik? Mom said. “Why didn’t you say hello to us in English when you came in?”

“I haven’t gone through hello yet,” said Pavel.

- Well, you ate a watermelon, why didn’t you say “thank you”?

“I said,” Pavel said.

- Well, yes, you said in Russian, but in English?

“We haven’t reached the “thank you” yet,” Pavel said. – Very difficult preaching.

Then I said:

- Pavel, and you teach me how to say “one, two, three” in English.

“I haven’t studied it yet,” Pavel said.

– What did you study? I shouted. Have you learned anything in two months?

“I learned how to speak English Petya,” said Pavel.

- Well, how?

“True,” I said. – Well, what else do you know in English?

“That’s all for now,” Pavel said.

watermelon lane

I came from the yard after football tired and dirty, like I don’t know who. I had fun because we beat house number five with a score of 44:37. Thank God there was no one in the bathroom. I quickly rinsed my hands, ran into the room and sat down at the table. I said:

- I, mother, can now eat a bull.

She smiled.

- A live bull? - she said.

“Aha,” I said, “alive, with hooves and nostrils!”

Mom immediately left and returned a second later with a plate in her hands. The plate smoked so nicely, and I immediately guessed that there was pickle in it. Mom put the plate in front of me.

- Eat! Mom said.

But it was noodles. Dairy. All in foam. It is almost the same as semolina. There are always lumps in porridge, and foam in noodles. I just die as soon as I see foam, not to eat. I said:

– I will not noodles!

Mom said:

- No talking!

- There are foams!

Mom said:

- You will drive me into a coffin! What foams? Who do you look like? You are the spitting image of Koschey!

I said:

“Better kill me!”

But my mother blushed all over and slammed her hand on the table:

- You're killing me!

And then dad came in. He looked at us and asked:

- What is the dispute about? Why such a heated debate?

Mom said:

- Enjoy! Doesn't want to eat. The guy will soon be eleven years old, and he, like a girl, is naughty.

I'm almost nine. But my mother always says that I'll be eleven soon. When I was eight years old, she said that I would soon be ten.

Papa said:

- Why doesn't he want to? What, the soup is burnt or too salty?

I said:

- This is noodles, and there are foams in it ...

Papa shook his head.

- Ah, that's it! His Excellency Von-Baron Kutkin-Putkin does not want to eat milk noodles! He should probably serve marzipans on a silver tray!

I laughed because I love it when dad jokes.

- What is marzipan?

“I don’t know,” Dad said, “probably something sweet and smells like cologne.” Especially for the von-baron Kutkin-Putkin!.. Well, let's eat noodles!

- Yes, foams!

- You're stuck, brother, that's what! Dad said and turned to mom. “Take his noodles,” he said, “otherwise I just hate it!” He doesn't want porridge, he can't have noodles!.. What whims! Hate!..

He sat down on a chair and looked at me. His face was as if I was a stranger to him. He did not say anything, but only looked like this - in a strange way. And I immediately stopped smiling - I realized that the jokes were already over. And dad was so silent for a long time, and we were all so silent, and then he said, and as if not to me, and not to my mother, but to someone who is his friend:

“No, I’ll probably never forget that terrible autumn,” dad said, “how sad, uncomfortable it was then in Moscow ... War, the Nazis are rushing to the city. It's cold, hungry, adults all walk around frowning, they listen to the radio every hour ... Well, everything is clear, isn't it? I was then about eleven or twelve years old, and, most importantly, then I grew very quickly, stretched upward, and I was terribly hungry all the time. I didn't have enough food. I always asked my parents for bread, but they didn’t have enough, and they gave me theirs, but I didn’t have enough of that either. And I went to bed hungry, and in my dream I saw bread. Yes that … Everyone was like that. The history is known. Written, rewritten, read, reread...

And then one day I was walking along a small alley, not far from our house, and suddenly I saw a hefty truck, littered to the top with watermelons. I don't even know how they got to Moscow. Some stray watermelons. They must have been brought in to give out cards. And upstairs in the car there is an uncle, so thin, unshaven and toothless, or something - his mouth is very retracted. And so he takes a watermelon and throws it to his friend, and he - to the saleswoman in white, and she - to someone else fourth ... And they do it so cleverly in a chain: the watermelon rolls along the conveyor from the car to the store. And if you look from the outside, people are playing with green-striped balls, and this is a very interesting game. I stood like that for a long time and looked at them, and the uncle, who is very thin, also looked at me and kept smiling at me with his toothless mouth, a nice man. But then I got tired of standing and already wanted to go home, when suddenly someone in their chain made a mistake, looked, or something, or simply missed, and please - trrah! .. The heavy watermelon suddenly fell on the pavement. Right next to me. It cracked somehow crookedly, sideways, and a snow-white thin crust was visible, and behind it such a purple, red flesh with sugar streaks and obliquely set bones, as if the sly eyes of a watermelon looked at me and smiled from the middle. And here, when I saw this wonderful pulp and splashes of watermelon juice, and when I smelled this smell, so fresh and strong, only then I realized how much I want to eat. But I turned around and went home. And I did not have time to move away, suddenly I hear - they are calling:

"Boy, boy!"

I looked around, and this worker of mine, who is toothless, is running towards me, and he has a broken watermelon in his hands. He says:

“Come on, honey, watermelon, drag it, eat at home!”

And I did not have time to look back, and he had already thrust me a watermelon and was running to his place, further unloading. And I hugged the watermelon and barely dragged it home, and called my friend Valka, and we both ate this huge watermelon. Ah, what a treat it was! Can't be transferred! Valka and I cut off huge pieces, the entire width of the watermelon, and when we bit, the edges of the watermelon slices touched our ears, and our ears were wet, and pink watermelon juice dripped from them. And the bellies of Valka and I swelled up and also looked like watermelons. If you click on such a belly with your finger, you know what kind of ringing will go! Like a drum. And we regretted only one thing, that we had no bread, otherwise we would have eaten even better. Yes…

Dad turned away and looked out the window.

- And then it got even worse - autumn turned around, - he said, - it became completely cold, winter, dry and fine snow fell from the sky, and it was immediately blown away by a dry and sharp wind. And we had very little food, and the Nazis went on and on towards Moscow, and I was hungry all the time. And now I dreamed not only of bread. I also dreamed of watermelons. And one morning I saw that I didn’t have a stomach at all, it just seemed to be stuck to the spine, and I couldn’t think about anything except food. And I called Valka and told him:

“Let’s go, Valka, let’s go to that watermelon lane, maybe they are unloading watermelons there again, and maybe one will fall again, and maybe they will give it to us again.”

And we wrapped ourselves in some kind of grandmother's scarves, because the cold was terrible, and went to the watermelon lane. It was a gray day outside, there were few people, and it was quiet in Moscow, not like now. There was no one at all in the watermelon alley, and we stood in front of the store doors and waited for the watermelon truck to arrive. And it was already getting dark, but he still did not come. I said:

“Probably coming tomorrow…”

“Yes,” said Valka, “probably tomorrow.”

And we went home with him. And the next day we went to the alley again, and again in vain. And every day we walked like this and waited, but the truck did not come ...

Papa was silent. He looked out the window, and his eyes were as if he was seeing something that neither I nor my mother could see. Mom came up to him, but dad immediately got up and left the room. Mom followed him. And I was left alone. I sat and also looked out the window, where papa was looking, and it seemed to me that I was seeing papa and his comrade right now, how they trembled and waited. The wind beats on them, and the snow too, but they tremble and wait, and wait, and wait ... And this just made me terribly, and I directly grabbed my plate and quickly, spoon by spoon, sipped it all, and then tilted to himself, and drank the rest, and wiped the bottom with bread, and licked the spoon.

Would…

Once I sat and sat, and for no reason at all suddenly thought up such a thing that I was even surprised myself. I thought that this is how good it would be if everything around the world was arranged the other way around. Well, for example, so that children are in charge in all matters, and adults should have to obey them in everything, in everything. In general, adults should be like children, and children like adults. That would be great, it would be very interesting.

Firstly, I imagine how my mother would “like” such a story that I go around and command her as I want, and dad would probably “like” it too, but there’s nothing to say about my grandmother. Needless to say, I would remember them all! For example, my mother would be sitting at dinner, and I would say to her:

“Why did you start a fashion without bread? Here's more news! Look at yourself in the mirror, who do you look like? Poured Koschey! Eat now, they tell you! - And she would eat with her head down, and I would only give the command: - Faster! Don't hold your cheek! Thinking again? Are you solving the world's problems? Chew properly! And don't rock in your chair!"

And then dad would come in after work, and he wouldn’t even have time to undress, and I would have already screamed:

"Yeah, he showed up! You always have to wait! My hands now! As it should, as it should be mine, there is nothing to smear the dirt. After you, the towel is scary to look at. Brush three and do not spare soap. Come on, show me your nails! It's horror, not nails. It's just claws! Where are the scissors? Don't move! I do not cut with any meat, but I cut it very carefully. Don't sniffle, you're not a girl... That's right. Now sit down at the table."

He would sit down and quietly say to his mother:

"Well, how are you?!"

And she would also say quietly:

"Nothing, thanks!"

And I would immediately:

“Table talkers! When I eat, I am deaf and dumb! Remember this for the rest of your life. Golden Rule! Dad! Put down the newspaper now, you are my punishment!”

And they would sit with me like silk, and when my grandmother came, I would squint, clasp my hands and wail:

"Dad! Mother! Admire our grandmother! What a view! The chest is open, the hat is on the back of the head! Cheeks are red, the whole neck is wet! Okay, nothing to say. Admit it, did you play hockey again? What is that dirty stick? Why did you bring her into the house? What? Is this a stick? Get her out of my sight right now—to the back door!”

Then I would walk around the room and say to all three of them:

“After dinner, everyone sit down for lessons, and I’ll go to the cinema!” Of course, they would immediately whine and whimper:

“And we are with you! And we also want to go to the cinema!”

And I would them:

“Nothing, nothing! Yesterday we went to a birthday party, on Sunday I took you to the circus! Look! I enjoyed having fun every day. Sit at home! Here you have thirty kopecks for ice cream, and that’s it!”

Then the grandmother would pray:

“Take me at least! After all, each child can bring one adult with them for free!”

But I would shirk, I would say:

“And people over seventy years old are not allowed to enter this picture. Stay at home, you bastard!"

And I would walk past them, deliberately tapping my heels loudly, as if I didn’t notice that their eyes were all wet, and I would start getting dressed, and I would turn around in front of the mirror for a long time, and sing, and they would be even worse from this. were tormented, and I would open the door to the stairs and say ...

But I did not have time to think of what I would say, because at that time my mother came in, the real one, alive, and said:

Are you still sitting? Eat now, look who you look like? Poured Koschey!

“Where is it seen, where is it heard…”

During the break, our October counselor Lucy ran up to me and said:

- Deniska, can you perform at the concert? We decided to organize two kids to be satirists. Want?

I speak:

- I want it all! Only you explain: what are satirists?

Lucy says:

- You see, we have various problems ... Well, for example, losers or lazy people, they need to be caught. Understood? It is necessary to speak about them so that everyone laughs, this will have a sobering effect on them.

I speak:

They are not drunk, they are just lazy.

“That’s what they say: “sobering,” Lucy laughed. – But in fact, these guys will just think about it, they will become embarrassed, and they will improve. Understood? Well, in general, do not pull: if you want - agree, if you don't want - refuse!

I said:

- All right, come on!

Then Lucy asked:

- Do you have a partner?

Lucy was surprised.

How do you live without a friend?

- I have a comrade, Mishka. And there is no partner.

Lucy smiled again.

- It's almost the same thing. Is he musical, is your Bear?

- No, ordinary.

- Can you sing?

“Very quiet… But I’ll teach him to sing louder, don’t worry.”

Here Lucy was delighted:

- After the lessons, drag him to the small hall, there will be a rehearsal!

And I set off with all my might to look for Mishka. He stood in the buffet and ate sausage.

- Mishka, do you want to be a satirist?

And he said:

- Wait, let me eat.

I stood and watched him eat. He is small himself, and the sausage is thicker than his neck. He held this sausage with his hands and ate it straight whole, without cutting it, and the skin cracked and burst when he bit it, and hot odorous juice splashed from there.

And I could not stand it and said to Aunt Katya:

- Give me, please, also a sausage, as soon as possible!

And Aunt Katya immediately handed me a bowl. And I was in a hurry so that Mishka would not have time to eat his sausage without me: I alone would not be so tasty. And so I also took my sausage with my hands and, without cleaning it, began to gnaw it, and hot odorous juice splashed out of it. And Mishka and I gnawed like that for a couple, and burned ourselves, and looked at each other, and smiled.

And then I told him that we would be satirists, and he agreed, and we barely made it to the end of the lessons, and then ran to the small hall for a rehearsal. Our counselor Lucy was already sitting there, and with her was one boy, about the fourth, very ugly, with small ears and big eyes.

Lucy said:

– Here they are! Meet our school poet Andrey Shestakov.

We said:

– Great!

And they turned away so that he would not ask.

And the poet said to Lucy:

- What is it, performers, or what?

He said:

“Was there really nothing better?”

Lucy said:

- Just what you need!

But then our singing teacher Boris Sergeevich came. He went straight to the piano.

- Come on, let's start! Where are the verses?

Andryushka took a piece of paper out of his pocket and said:

- Here. I took the meter and chorus from Marshak, from a fairy tale about a donkey, grandfather and grandson: “Where has this been seen, where has it been heard ...”

Boris Sergeevich nodded.

Dad studies for Vasya all year.

Dad decides, and Vasya gives up?!

Mishka and I just jumped. Of course, the guys quite often ask their parents to solve the problem for them, and then show the teacher as if they were such heroes. And at the board, no boom-boom - deuce! The case is well known. Oh yes Andryushka, he caught it great!

Chalk lined asphalt into squares,
Manechka and Tanechka are jumping here,
Where is it seen, where is it heard -
They play "classes" but don't go to class?!

It's great again. We really enjoyed! This Andryushka is just a real fellow, like Pushkin!

Boris Sergeevich said:

- Nothing, not bad! And the music will be the simplest, something like that. - And he took Andryushka's verses and, quietly strumming, sang them all in a row.

It turned out very cleverly, we even clapped our hands.

And Boris Sergeevich said:

- Well, sir, who are our performers?

And Lucy pointed at Mishka and me:

- Well, - said Boris Sergeevich, - Misha has a good ear ... True, Deniska does not sing very correctly.

I said:

- But it's loud.

And we began to repeat these verses to the music and repeated them probably fifty or a thousand times, and I yelled very loudly, and everyone calmed me down and made comments:

- Do not worry! You are quiet! Calm down! Don't be so loud!

Andryushka was especially excited. He completely blew me away. But I only sang loudly, I didn't want to sing softer, because real singing is exactly when it's loud!

... And then one day, when I came to school, I saw an announcement in the locker room:

ATTENTION!

Today at a big break

there will be a performance in the small hall

flying patrol

« Pioneer Satyricon»!

Performed by a duet of kids!

One day!

Come all!

And something immediately clicked in me. I ran to class. Mishka sat there and looked out the window.

I said:

- Well, today we perform!

And Mishka suddenly mumbled:

- I don't feel like speaking...

I was right dumbfounded. How - reluctance? That's it! We've been rehearsing, haven't we? But what about Lucy and Boris Sergeevich? Andryushka? And all the guys, because they read the poster and will come running as one? I said:

- Are you out of your mind, or what? Let people down?

And Mishka is so plaintively:

- I think my stomach hurts.

I speak:

- It's out of fear. It hurts me too, but I don't refuse!

But Mishka was still kind of thoughtful. At the big break, all the guys rushed to the small hall, and Mishka and I could hardly trudge behind, because I also completely lost the mood to speak. But at that moment Lyusya ran out to meet us, she firmly grabbed our hands and dragged us along, but my legs were soft, like a doll’s, and weaved. I must have been infected by Mishka.

In the hall there was a fenced-off place near the piano, and children from all classes, both nannies and teachers, crowded around.

Mishka and I stood near the piano.

Boris Sergeevich was already in place, and Lucy announced in an announcer's voice:

- We begin the performance of the "Pioneer Satyricon" on topical topics. Text by Andrey Shestakov, performed by world-famous satirists Misha and Denis! Let's ask!

And Mishka and I went a little ahead. The bear was white as a wall. And I was nothing, only my mouth was dry and rough, as if there was emery.

Boris Sergeevich played. Mishka had to start, because he sang the first two lines, and I had to sing the second two lines. So Boris Sergeevich began to play, and Mishka threw his left hand out to the side, as Lucy taught him, and he wanted to sing, but he was late, and while he was getting ready, it was my turn, it turned out like that in music. But I did not sing, since Mishka was late. Why on earth!

Mishka then put his hand back in place. And Boris Sergeevich loudly and separately began again.

He struck, as he should have done, the keys three times, and on the fourth Mishka threw back his left hand again and finally sang:

Vasya's dad is strong in mathematics,
Dad studies for Vasya all year.

I immediately picked it up and shouted:

Where is it seen, where is it heard -
Dad decides, and Vasya gives up?!

Everyone in the hall laughed, and this made my soul feel better. And Boris Sergeevich went further. He again struck the keys three times, and on the fourth Mishka carefully threw his left hand to the side and for no reason sang at first:

Vasya's dad is strong in mathematics,
Dad studies for Vasya all year.

I knew right away that he had lost his way! But since this is the case, I decided to sing to the end, and then we'll see. I took it and finished it:

Where is it seen, where is it heard -
Dad decides, and Vasya gives up?!

Thank God, it was quiet in the hall - everyone, apparently, also understood that Mishka had gone astray, and thought: “Well, it happens, let him sing further.”

And when the music reached the place, he again extended his left hand and, like a record that was “jammed”, wound it up for the third time:

Vasya's dad is strong in mathematics,
Dad studies for Vasya all year.

I had a terrible desire to hit him on the back of the head with something heavy, and I yelled with terrible anger:

Where is it seen, where is it heard -
Dad decides, and Vasya gives up?!

“Mishka, you seem to be completely crazy!” Are you tightening the same thing for the third time? Let's talk about girls!

And Mishka is so cheeky:

I know without you! - And politely says to Boris Sergeyevich: - Please, Boris Sergeyevich, go on!

Boris Sergeevich began to play, and Mishka suddenly grew bolder, again put out his left hand and on the fourth beat began to cry as if nothing had happened:

Vasya's dad is strong in mathematics,
Dad studies for Vasya all year.

Then everyone in the hall squealed with laughter, and I saw in the crowd what an unhappy face Andryushka had, and I also saw that Lucy, all red and disheveled, was making her way towards us through the crowd. And Mishka stands with his mouth open, as if he is surprised at himself. Well, while the court and the case, I shout out:

Where is it seen, where is it heard -
Dad decides, and Vasya gives up?!

This is where something terrible started. Everyone was laughing as if stabbed to death, and the Mishka turned purple from green. Our Lucy grabbed his hand and dragged him to her. She screamed:

- Deniska, sing alone! Don't let me down!.. Music! AND!..

And I stood at the piano and decided not to let you down. I felt that it didn’t matter to me, and when the music reached me, for some reason I suddenly threw my left hand out to the side and screamed out of the blue:

Vasya's dad is strong in mathematics,
Dad studies for Vasya all year ...

I'm even surprised that I didn't die from this damn song. I probably would have died if the bell hadn't rung at that time...

I won't be a satirist anymore!

Deniska's stories of Dragunsky. Viktor Yuzefovich Dragunsky was born on December 1, 1913 in New York, into a Jewish family of emigrants from Russia. Soon after that, the parents returned to their homeland and settled in Gomel. During the war, Victor's father died of typhus. His stepfather was I. Voitsekhovich, a red commissar who died in 1920. In 1922, another stepfather appeared - Jewish theater actor Mikhail Rubin, with whom the family traveled all over the country. In 1925 they moved to Moscow. But one day Mikhail Rubin went on tour and did not return home. What happened remains unknown.
Victor started working early. In 1930, already working, he began to attend the "Literary and Theater Workshops" of A. Diky. In 1935, he began performing as an actor at the Transport Theater (now the N.V. Gogol Theatre). At the same time, Dragunsky was engaged in literary work: he wrote feuilletons and humoresques, came up with interludes, skits, pop monologues, circus clowns. He became close with circus performers and even worked in a circus for a while. Gradually came the role. He played several roles in films (the film "The Russian Question", directed by Mikhail Romm) and was accepted into the Film Actor's Theatre. But in the theater with its huge troupe, which included eminent movie stars, young and not very famous actors did not have to rely on constant employment in performances. Then Dragunsky had the idea of ​​creating a small amateur troupe inside the theater. True, such a troupe could be called amateur performances conditionally - the participants were professional artists. Many actors responded with pleasure to the idea of ​​creating a parody "theatre within the theater". Dragunsky became the organizer and leader of the Blue Bird ensemble of literary and theatrical parody, which existed from 1948-1958. Actors from other Moscow theaters also began to come there. Gradually, the small troupe gained importance and repeatedly performed at the Actor's House (then: the All-Russian Theater Society), where Alexander Moiseevich Eskin was director at that time. Parody funny performances were such a resounding success that Dragunsky was invited to create a similar group with the same name in Mosestrade. For productions at the Blue Bird, together with Lyudmila Davidovich, he composed the text for several songs, which later became popular and acquired a second life on the stage: Three Waltzes, Miracle Song, Motor Ship, Star of My Fields, Birch".
During the Great Patriotic War, Dragunsky was in the militia.
Since 1940, he has been publishing feuilletons and humorous stories, later collected in the collection Iron Character (1960); writes songs, interludes, clownery, scenes for stage and circus.
Since 1959, Dragunsky has been writing funny stories about a fictional boy Denis Korablev and his friend Mishka Slonov under the general title "Deniskin's Stories", based on which the films "Funny Stories" (1962), "The Girl on the Ball" (1966) are released. , "Deniska's stories" (1970), "In secret around the world" (1976), "The amazing adventures of Denis Korablev" (1979), short films "Where has it been seen, where has it been heard", "Captain", "Fire in the wing" and "Spyglass" (1973). These stories brought their author great popularity, it was with them that his name began to be associated. The name Deniska was not chosen by chance - that was the name of his son.
In addition, Dragunsky was the screenwriter of the film "The Magic Power of Art (1970)", in which Deniska Korablev was also displayed as a hero.
However, Viktor Dragunsky wrote prose works for adults too. In 1961, the story "He Fell on the Grass" was published about the very first days of the war. Its hero, a young artist, like the author of the book himself, despite the fact that he was not drafted into the army due to disability, joined the militia. The story "Today and Daily" (1964) is dedicated to the life of circus workers, the main character of which is a clown; this is a book about a man who exists in spite of time, living in his own way.
But the children's "Deniska's stories" are most famous and popular.
In the 1960s, books from this series were published in large numbers:
"Girl on the Ball",
"Enchanted Letter"
"Childhood Friend"
"Dog Thief"
"Twenty years under the bed"
"The Magical Power of Art", etc.
In the 1970s:
"Red balloon in the blue sky"
"Colorful Stories"
"Adventure" etc.
The writer died in Moscow on May 6, 1972.
The widow of V. Dragunsky Alla Dragunskaya (Semichastnaya) published a book of memoirs: “About Viktor Dragunsky. Life, creativity, memories of friends”, LLP “Chemistry and Life”, Moscow, 1999.

Korablev Denis is the protagonist of a cycle of children's stories by the famous Soviet writer V. Dragunsky. This character is one of the most popular in literature, as evidenced by the fact that he became the protagonist of several adaptations of these stories. These are "Funny Stories" (1962), and "Deniska's Stories" (1970), and short films based on individual stories from the book of the same name in 1973, and "In Secret to the Whole World" (1976), and "Amazing Adventures Denis Korablev" (1979). It is known that the prototype was the son of the author, for whom he wrote his works.

general characteristics

The events of the main part of the stories take place in Moscow in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Korablev Denis in most of the works is a boy of preschool age. He lives with his parents, next to the circus, which is mentioned in one of the works of this cycle. Subsequently, he had a younger sister. The story is told from the point of view of the protagonist, which is the charm of these works. The writer showed the world around him through the eyes of a child, many of whose judgments are striking in their truthfulness, reasonableness and directness.

In addition, the images of his parents play a large role in the stories, and his closest friend and comrade Mishka also plays a significant role. Secondary, episodic characters periodically appear on the pages of stories, the presence of which, nevertheless, plays a great semantic load (for example, a school singing teacher).

In all the stories Korablev Denis tells about his adventures, funny stories and just episodes of his life. They are interesting in that they are all very different from each other, and each event, as it were, opens the main character from a new side. Some of the works are funny, others, on the contrary, are very sad. Thus, the author shows the complex inner world of a child who very sharply and vividly experiences everything that happens around. The writer skillfully inscribed the most significant events of his era into the narrative: for example, in the story "Amazing Day" Titov's flight into space is mentioned.

Episodes

Korablev Denis periodically finds himself in various funny situations, which he narrates with childlike simplicity and naivety, which makes the story even more interesting. For example, in the story "Exactly 25 kilos" he drinks too much syrup in order to win a year's subscription to a magazine, and in another story he is going to spend his whole life under the bed. A lot of funny incidents happen to his parents and friends. For example, quite a few funny episodes are connected with his dad, who once accidentally drank an explosive mixture from various drinks prepared by the boy. In another story, the hero tells how his parent unsuccessfully tried to cook chicken for dinner.

Character

Denis Korablev is especially sympathetic because he is an extremely sensitive boy with a romantic attitude. In one of the stories, he tells about what he likes and loves most, and from this long list we learn that this child has a lively mind, prudence and a vivid imagination. He loves music and singing, which is played out quite amusingly in several stories. The boy likes the animal world, as we can judge from the story “White Finches”, he is attached to all living things: in one of the works he changed an expensive toy for an ordinary luminous bug only so that this insect would not become fun in the hands of his friend. So, Denis Korablev, films about which were among the most popular in our country, became the favorite of many readers.

A lot of funny stories are devoted to the description of acquaintances, friends and neighbors of the protagonist. For example, he tells about the neighbor girl Alenka and his yard friend Kostya, with whom he often spent time. In the Dragunsky cycle there is also one of the most touching and sad stories “The Girl on the Ball”, in which the boy had to endure the pain of parting. Particularly memorable is the work dedicated to the story of the pope about his military childhood, which made such a strong impression on the child that he stopped being capricious. Dragunsky makes references to other works of world literature: for example, one of his stories is called "The Old Sailor", named after one of the characters of D. London.

So, one of the most popular heroes of children's literature is Denis Korablev. The actors who played the role of the main character (Misha Kislyarov, Petya Moseev, Volodya Stankevich, Sasha Mikhailov, Serezha Krupennikov, Serezha Pisunov) perfectly embodied this image in Soviet films. And numerous film adaptations testify to how popular the works of Dragunsky are in our country.

Viktor Yuzefovich Dragunsky

Deniskin's stories

© Dragunsky V. Yu., heirs, 2014

© Dragunskaya K. V., foreword, 2014

© Chizhikov V. A., afterword, 2014

© Losin V. N., illustrations, heritage, 2014

© LLC AST Publishing House, 2015

About my dad

When I was little, I had a dad. Viktor Dragunsky. Famous children's writer. Only no one believed me that he was my dad. And I screamed: “This is my dad, dad, dad!!!” And she started to fight. Everyone thought he was my grandfather. Because he was no longer very young. I am a late child. Junior. I have two older brothers - Lenya and Denis. They are smart, scholarly, and quite bald. But they know a lot more stories about dad than I do. But since it wasn’t them who became children’s writers, but I, then they usually ask me to write something about dad.

My dad was born a long time ago. In 2013, on the first of December, he would have turned one hundred years old. And not somewhere there he was born, but in New York. This is how it happened - his mom and dad were very young, got married and left the Belarusian city of Gomel for America, for happiness and wealth. I don’t know about happiness, but they didn’t work out with wealth at all. They ate exclusively bananas, and in the house where they lived, hefty rats ran. And they returned back to Gomel, and after a while they moved to Moscow, to Pokrovka. There my dad did not study well at school, but he liked to read books. Then he worked at a factory, studied acting and worked in the Theater of Satire, and also as a clown in a circus and wore a red wig. Maybe that's why I have red hair. And as a child, I also wanted to be a clown.

Dear readers!!! People often ask me how my dad is doing, and they ask me to ask him to write something else - bigger and funnier. I don’t want to upset you, but my dad died a long time ago when I was only six years old, that is, more than thirty years ago, it turns out. Therefore, I remember very few cases about him.

One such case. My dad was very fond of dogs. He always dreamed of getting a dog, only his mother did not allow him, but finally, when I was five and a half years old, a spaniel puppy named Toto appeared in our house. So wonderful. Eared, spotted and with thick paws. He had to be fed six times a day, like a baby, which made mom a little angry ... And then one day dad and I come from somewhere or just sit at home alone, and we want to eat something. We go to the kitchen and find a saucepan with semolina, and so tasty (I generally can’t stand semolina) that we immediately eat it. And then it turns out that this is Totoshina porridge, which my mother specially cooked in advance to mix it with some vitamins, as it should be for puppies. Mom was offended, of course. Outrageous is a children's writer, an adult, and ate puppy porridge.

They say that in his youth my dad was terribly cheerful, he was always inventing something, around him there were always the coolest and witty people in Moscow, and at home we always had noisy, fun, laughter, a holiday, a feast and solid celebrities. Unfortunately, I don’t remember this anymore - when I was born and grew up a little, dad was very ill with hypertension, high blood pressure, and it was impossible to make noise in the house. My friends, who are now quite adult aunts, still remember that I had to walk on tiptoe so as not to disturb my dad. Somehow they didn’t even let me in to see him very much, so that I wouldn’t disturb him. But I still penetrated to him, and we played - I was a frog, and dad was a respected and kind lion.

My dad and I also went to eat bagels on Chekhov Street, there was such a bakery with bagels and a milkshake. We were also in the circus on Tsvetnoy Boulevard, we were sitting very close, and when the clown Yuri Nikulin saw my dad (and they worked together in the circus before the war), he was very happy, took a microphone from the ringmaster and sang “The Song about Hares” especially for us .

My dad also collected bells, we have a whole collection at home, and now I continue to replenish it.

If you read "Deniska's Stories" attentively, you will understand how sad they are. Not all, of course, but some - just very much. I won't name now which ones. You yourself read and feel. And then - let's check. Some people are surprised, they say, how did an adult manage to penetrate the soul of a child, speak on his behalf, just as if the child himself had told it? .. And it’s very simple - dad remained a little boy all his life. Exactly! A person does not have time to grow up at all - life is too short. A person only manages to learn how to eat without getting dirty, walk without falling, do something there, smoke, lie, shoot from a machine gun, or vice versa - treat, teach ... All people are children. Well, at least almost everything. Only they don't know about it.

I don't remember much about my dad. But I can compose all sorts of stories - funny, strange and sad. I have this from him.

And my son Tema is very similar to my dad. Well, spilled! In the house in Karetny Ryad, where we live in Moscow, there are elderly pop artists who remember my dad when he was young. And they call Theme just that - "Dragoon offspring." And we, along with Tema, love dogs. We have a lot of dogs at the dacha, and those that are not ours just come to us for lunch. Once a striped dog came, we treated her to a cake, and she liked it so much that she ate and barked with joy with her mouth full.

Xenia Dragunskaya

"He's alive and glowing..."

One evening I was sitting in the yard, near the sand, and waiting for my mother. She probably lingered at the institute, or at the store, or, perhaps, stood at the bus stop for a long time. Don't know. Only all the parents of our yard had already come, and all the guys went home with them and probably already drank tea with bagels and cheese, but my mother was still not there ...

And now the lights in the windows began to light up, and the radio began to play music, and dark clouds moved in the sky - they looked like bearded old men ...

And I wanted to eat, but my mother was still not there, and I thought that if I knew that my mother was hungry and was waiting for me somewhere at the end of the world, I would immediately run to her, and would not be late and would not made her sit on the sand and get bored.

And at that moment Mishka came out into the yard. He said:

- Great!

And I said

- Great!

Mishka sat down with me and picked up a dump truck.

- Wow! Mishka said. - Where did you get it? Does he pick up the sand himself? Not by myself? Does he dump himself? Yes? And the pen? What is she for? Can it be rotated? Yes? A? Wow! Will you give it to me home?

I said:

- No I will not give. Present. Dad gave before leaving.

The bear pouted and moved away from me. It got even darker outside.

I looked at the gate so as not to miss when my mother comes. But she didn't go. Apparently, I met Aunt Rosa, and they stand and talk and do not even think about me. I lay down on the sand.

Mishka says:

- Can you give me a dump truck?

- Get off, Mishka.