"Lazar Lagin. The Old Genie Hottabych (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

"And he'll be overjoyed that I did not wipe him off the face of the
Earth, or change him into a foul rat, or a cockroach hiding in a crack of a
hovel, or the last beggar...."
"That's real blackmail," Volka said angrily. "Tricks like that send a
man to jail, my friend. And you'll well deserve it."
"Send me to jail?!" the old man flared up. "Me?! Hassan Abdurrakhman
ibn Hottab? And does he know, that most despicable of all passers-by, who J
am? Ask the first Genie, or Ifrit, or Shaitan you see, and they'll tell you,
as they tremble from fear, that Hassan Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab is the chief
of all Genie bodyguards. My army consists of 72 tribes, with 72,000 warriors
in each tribe; every warrior rules over one thousand Marids and every Marid
rules over a thousand Aides and every Aide rules over a thousand Shaitans
and every Shaitan rules over a thousand Genies. I rule over them all and
none can disobey me! If only this thrice-miserable of all most miserable
passers-by tries to...."
Meanwhile, the man in question was strolling down the street, glancing
at the shop windows, and in no way aware of the terrible danger hanging over
him because of an ordinary watch glittering on his wrist.
' "Why, I'll..." Hottabych raged on in his boastfulness, "why, if you
only so desire, I'll turn him into a...."
Each second counted. Volka shouted:
"Don't!"
"Don't what?"
"Don't touch that man! I don't need a watch! I don't need anything!"
"Nothing at all?" the old man asked doubtfully, quickly calming down.
The only sun watch in the world disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
"Nothing at all," said Volka. He heaved such a sigh that Hottabych
realized he must apply himself to cheering up his young saviour and
dispelling his gloomy thoughts.

HOTTABYCH'S SECOND SERVICE

Volka was in the dumps. Hottabych sensed that something was wrong. He
never dreamed he had done the boy such a bad turn during the exam, but it
was all too clear that Volka was upset. And the one to blame, apparently,
was none other than himself, Hassan Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab.
"Would you, 0 moon-like, feel inclined to listen to stories of most
unusual and strange adventures?" he asked slyly. "For instance, do you know
the story of the Baghdad barber's three black roosters and his lame son? Or
the one about the copper camel with a silver hump? Or about the
water-carrier Ahmet and his magic pail?"
Volka kept on frowning. This did not stop the old man, and he began
hurriedly:
"Be it known to you, 0 most wonderful of all secondary school pupils,
that once upon a time in Baghdad there lived a skilled barber named Selim
who had three roosters and a lame son named Tub. It so happened that Caliph
Harun al Rashid once passed his shop. But, 0 most attentive of all youths, I
suggest we sit down on this bench in order that your young legs don't tire
during this long and most educational story."
Volka agreed. They sat down in the shade of an old linden tree.