THE MIRACULOUS CONCOCTION
Next morning Cardan woke up with a severe headache. "Once again that frigging hangover," he thought plaintively. "The pain won't go away till the next day unless you deal with it now. In order to alleviate it you need to get some booze. You should always be on the move. Get up and go look for another "victim"," the solution, worked out over the years, reverberated in his head, like an echo in the cave. He splashed some cold water on his face, patted the drops of it with a towel and looked at himself in the dusty, cracked mirror. He eyed his fractured, sour reflection. It was craving for some sort of invigoration. Drinking ravenously a cup of cold water, he flung a worn-out jacket over his shoulder, like David his sling when he was challenging Goliath, and went out and about to face the world.
His future victim, a driver called Chika, was delivering grain from the farm field to the grain facilities. It was lunchtime and he, hurrying up home to have a snack, asked the colleague drivers where they signed the driver's vouchers. "Over there, at the bench," one of them said casually and nodded to the other side of the road where an old man was sitting.
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Chika ran to the place indicated and the drivers, hardly suppressing their laughter, expected his reaction. With an angry expression on his face and non-stop complaining Chika returned to the drivers. "What the heck... he signs the frigging vouchers, he`s looking after the turkeys and doesn`t sign any vouchers," he continued to grumble. And then a barely restrained avalanche of laughter came upon him; some of the drivers even rolled on the ground holding on to their bellies.
One day a cruel joke was played on him, which led to a chain reaction of ridicule. A circus came to the village; and it was written in the poster that a funny monkey called Chika would perform. However, some local man with a good sense of humor replaced a photo of the monkey with an image of the driver, who after the circus left the village was nicknamed Chika. Since then his friends have always been waiting for a moment to play a trick on him.
Waving away the driver's laughter, angry Chika went home to take a bite. When he got home he said hello to his father who came over from the neighboring village. Everyone called him Boss there. He arranged a repair of a shed for keeping hay, hiring two handymen for help. Chika was able to do just some petty chores about his household. He was not cut out for this sort of thing. From the first days of his married life his father helped him with everything he asked for: he assisted him with repairs, planted vegetables, harvested potatoes and delivered hay for the cattle. In addition to his own household, he also took care of his son's chores. A few years before Chika got married, Boss had decided to make a real man out of him and had sent him to work to the north of the country. "Go," he said threateningly to him, "you will see life, you will gain experience, you will grow wiser. There they will beat out that foolishness of yours quickly out of you! Besides, you will have an opportunity to earn some money."
Chika went to Murmansk. He worked at the port on a forklift. It so happened though that he could not cope with the steering of the "freaky clunker" and fell into the ocean from the quay together with the forklift.
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"Hey, boy, you`d better go home, we have plenty of our own workers like you," his formidable chief fired him at last.
And then, a month later, Boss contemplated his "prodigal son" again. After that he realized that he would have to help his awkward offspring till the end of his days.
Chika's wife set the table for lunch. Boss flavored each dish with red pepper.
“Did you ask the guys if they like food with pepper or don`t? Do you think if you enjoy a spicy meal, so does everyone?” Chika all of a sudden lost his temper and flashed with indignation like a peel of thunder.
“There you go again, wimp!” Boss responded back with one of his volcanic outbursts and shoved his middle finger under Chika's nose.
“Help yourself!” angry Chika retorted with the same gesture. All hell broke loose: a family squabble flared up. The handymen rushed to calm down both brawlers.
“I don`t give a damn about you all! I`m going to work.” the furious son headed for the door.
“You'd better get rid of Colorado beetles on the potato plot. Just take a look at it, almost all the potato tops have been destroyed,” Chika received a sharp reproach into his back, like a stab of a knife, from his father.
"I know what to do with it without your advice! You're preaching to the choir!" Chika retorted.
Arriving at the garage, he met Peter the First. Instantly comes to mind the image of the Great Russian Tsar; but not in his honor Petya received such an important nickname. In the local garage there were two more Peters. Peter the First always turned up for work the earliest of them, exactly for this reason he was awarded this honorable nickname from his colleagues.
Chika's agricultural capabilities were hanging in the balance. He was in a precarious situation. Something had to be done about it to neutralize the threat.
"If I don`t deal with it urgently, I would be a laughing stock for my father again," he thought demurely.
“And what should I do to those freaking potato beetles?” he began complaining aloud. “Soon all the potato tops will be devoured. I seem to have done everything I could. I poisoned them, and choked them, and crushed them- nothing helps.”
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“You should do as I have done to them in my garden. I've stricken out their teeth with a hammer,” Peter the First suggested.
“Are you crazy? How can you strike out their teeth with a hammer unless you smash their heads with it?!”
Chika's indignation reached the limit. He hurried into the building to find someone and complain about the stupidity of Peter the First.
“Guess what,” he said to Pirate, who limped on one leg and resembled the famous Captain Flint; that's why he got this nickname. “Peter the First says that he`s stricken out teeth of the potato beetles with a hammer in his garden. How can he strike out their teeth with a hammer unless he smashes their heads with it?!”
“So what? I've also done the same,” Pirate played along.
“And you too! Are you crazy just like him? Don`t you understand anything? How can you strike their teeth out unless you smash their heads with it?!”
“Oh, some people can be extremely stupid," Chika thought. He was swept outside on a way of righteous indignation, angry with his colleagues. The idea of hammering out the beetle's teeth was so unlikely, so incongruous, that it made him laugh out loud. While he was walking to his truck, he bumped into Cardan, who was coming towards him.
“Can you imagine, Cardan? I've just talked with Peter the First and Pirate and they say that they've stricken out teeth of the potato beetles with a hammer in their gardens. How can they strike out their teeth with a hammer unless they smash their heads with it?! I can't stand such stupidity!”
Cardan realized that the mountain had come to Muhammad.
“I think it's highly unlikely. Do not listen to anyone. One should insecticide his potato plot with his own concoction.”
Chika breathed a sigh of relief.
“Finally, I met a normal man. At least you aren't such a crazy one like them,” he said delightedly.
“Tell me, have I ever deceived you? You know, I can make a fool of anyone but you."
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"I think I'll pick them up by hand and crush them on the road."
"That's the worst thing you could do. Just sweep this idea under the rug. I'll give you one popular remedy, which is environmentally friendly and does not require any expenses."
Chika looked at Cardan as if he was some sort of miracle, as if he could hardly believe that he was real.
"Will you give me the recipe?"
"Not unless you pay for it. If you give me a bottle of vodka, I'll share it with you in return.
“Yes, sure! I've got a pint of moonshine in the truck. I have earned it today. I just don`t want to share it with those fools. So what is the remedy?”
“Let's go to your truck. First, you'll give me the bottle, and then I'll tell you how to make the miraculous concoction.”
“You won't deceive me, will you?”
“Never. I've totally cleared my garden of them. Come to my potato plot and take a glance at the potato tops, you'll make sure for yourself.”
Chika opened a truck door and pulled the bottle of alcohol out of the glove compartment.
“So, what's the remedy?”
“Give me that bottle, you miser! What are you afraid of?!” Cardan grabbed the booze and almost tore it away from Chika together with his hands. “Listen, put a bucket in your garden and go pee into it by the whole family. When the bucket is full with urine, fill up a sprayer with it and spray it on the beetles.”
A pang of doubt crept into his mind.
“I hardly think that's likely. Everyone would use it if it was so easy."
"Give it a shot and you'll make sure that your potato plot will really have taken up a notch. You'll be grateful to me. We`ll certainly have a drink together some time later. I assure you that you will never forget my kindness as long as you live.”
Eventually, Chika succumbed to Cardan's arguments. Each of them received their award: Cardan cured a hangover and Chika found a cheap and effective remedy for Colorado beetles. It seemed like the most wonderful piece of luck. And it all was surely working out for the best. "Now, you, Boss, you'll dance for me ... I'll prove it to you that you`ve underestimated me ... Why should I go to the toilet and neglect such a miraculous concoction? .. Oh, Boss, I'll teach you how to take care of the garden... You`ll see what a wimp I am," he reiterated comforting thoughts in his mind.
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When he got home in the evening, he told his wife about the miraculous concoction. "Honey, if we solved the problem of dealing with the Colorado beetles, that would be a miracle. That would be a fulfillment of a lifelong dream."
"I think this is too good to be true. Still, it's worth a try."
Although his wife was a little doubtful, she couldn't help but give it a go. So they collected urine and sprayed the potato plot with it until the bug had destroyed everything completely. He finally realized that Cardan appeared to have taken him for a fool. Now that merciful Chika, the one who could forgive others was gone. There was a ruthless beast in his place. He would tear to pieces anyone, who would dare to mess with him again. Overwhelmed with anger and annoyance, he clenched his teeth like a madman and squeezed out: "Oh, bastard! I'll get even with you some day!"
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