"Yuri Olesha. The three fat men (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

No one noticed him except a flock of birds that took off in fright from
a nearby tree. The floating bunch of balloons cast a light shadow, like a
cloud. It was a bouquet of rainbow colours as it slipped along the gravel
path, over a flower bed, a statue of a boy riding a goose and a sentry who
had fallen asleep. Wonderful changes came over the sentry's face as the
shadow slipped across it. First his nose became blue, then green, and then
red, like bits of coloured glass in a kaleidoscope.
The fatal moment was drawing near: the balloon man was blown towards
the open windows of the Palace. He was certain he would fly right into one
of them, just like a piece of fluff.
And that is exactly what happened.
He flew into a window. It was a window in the Palace kitchen, in the
bakery, where the bakers and pastry cooks made cakes and pies.
There was to be a great feast at the Palace of the Three Fat Men to
celebrate their victory over the rebels the day before. After the feast the
Three Fat Men, the State Council, the courtiers and special guests were all
to go to Court Square.
My friends, it is a real treat to pay a visit to the Palace pastry
cooks. The Three Fat Men knew what good food was. And then, it was such a
special occasion. A grand feast! You can imagine what was going on in the
Palace kitchens that morning.
As he flew into the bakery, the balloon man felt both terrified and
excited. It is probably just the way a wasp feels as it flies towards a cake
which a careless housewife has left on the window-sill to cool.
He flew in very quickly and didn't really have a chance to look around.
At first, he thought he was in a strange bird-house, where many-coloured,
rare tropical birds hopped and sang, whistled, chirped and chattered. The
very next second he decided it was not a bird-house after all, but a fruit
shop, full of squashed tropical fruits that were dripping juice. A dizzying
sweet smell hit him in the nose; the hot, stuffy air was choking. Everything
was all jumbled together.
The balloon man landed with a plop! in something soft and warm. He
didn't let go of his balloons, but held them tightly by the strings. Now the
balloons floated over his head.
He shut his eyes and decided to keep them shut, no matter what
happened.
"Now I know," he thought. "This is neither a bird-house nor a fruit
shop. It's a bakery. And I'm sitting in a cake!"
And he was.
He was sitting in a kingdom of chocolate and oranges, pomegranates and
whipped cream, candied fruit, powdered sugar and jam, and he was sitting on
a throne, just like the king of the colourful, sweet-smelling kingdom. The
cake was his throne.
He kept his eyes shut. He was ready for anything, a terrible row, a
scandal, anything at all. But he never could have expected things to happen
as they did.
"That's the end of the cake," the second pastrycook said sternly and
sadly.
Then there was silence. You could hear the bubbles bursting in the pan
of boiling chocolate.