Weekend reading. Mustafa closes her eyes
We draw public attention to the fact that if someone has associations with any previously published works, then this is nothing more than contrived. Any coincidences in the drama “Mustafa closes his eyes” are purely random, and the questions from the series “What did the authors smoke?” Are recommended to be addressed directly to the Nobel Committee and the headquarters of the Oscars casting and stamping, for in recent years they give prizes and awards for anything ...
That is why the drama from the rubric of “Weekend Pulp Fiction” could well be included in the list of contenders for international laureate, if an eminent contemporary art director had the courage to film it. So, “Mustafa closes his eyes” - a short “Oscar-winning” (and we are maximalists, you know) meter.
Mustafa woke up in a cold car. Of the numerous gaps between the boards, the sun could shine in his eyes. But there was no sun. Damned Stalin, you stole the sun from us, Mustafa wanted to swear, but the security officer, after reading his thoughts, hit the edentulous lower jaw with the butt of a rifle. Then, with the same butt of the same rifle, Mustafa was hit by another security officer. Then - the third. Rezun-Suvorov correctly wrote - they have one rifle for three, - spitting out the last canine, Mustafa said.
Collectivization took away everything from Mustafa: seven sacks of grain, a scythe, two shovels and a horse — everything Mustafa and her sister Zuleikha stole in the neighboring village. The gypsy camp then did not forgive Mustafa for offenses and wrote a denunciation to GubChK. A week later, at the door to Mustafa knocked. There were seven of them. Mustafa dived into the cellar, and before that he managed to shout out that his sister had persuaded his sister to steal his horse. The sister was taken away in a black funnel to the Lubyanka immediately. Stalin's executioners did not stop even the fact that before the Lubyanka was more than a thousand kilometers. But did something stop these monsters? - thought in the cellar of Mustafa.
With this thought came 41-th. During this time, he managed to write 7 volumes of military history research on the topic "If Hitler had not attacked the USSR, the USSR would have attacked a free Europe." This work was carried away by pigeon mail outside the Soviet Union and subsequently recognized as the most truthful book about World War II by the Objective Prose Foundation Commission. And the head of "Hitler as a victim of Stalinist propaganda" was awarded the Pan-American Award "Democracy and Publicity of the Year."
Mustafa realized that the main value in his life remains the struggle for freedom and independence. On the radio, in some unknown language to him, he heard that the Germans were already in 35 km from Moscow. Well, that's it! - Mustafa was finishing the letter to his beloved sister, waiting for the release of the invincible German army. He was overwhelmed with joy. But the excitement vanished, because Mustafa was enrolled in the lists of the rifle battalion by the hand of the Stalin ghouls. In the first fight, Mustafa proved himself a true patriot, having gone over to the invincible side. But the terrible happened - a detachment of invincible, in which Mustafa found himself, was surrounded.
Mustafa woke up in a cold car ... Somewhere - near Brandenburg - the Russian Ivan is now raping 2 a million ambitious German women, - thought Mustafa. - Eh, but what was the chance to drink Bavarian beer and enjoy grilled sausages, but the bloody gebnya broke all prospects.
The soldier handed him a twisted newspaper scrap with a makhra. Mustafa smoked, and a smile of jubilation walked around the corners of his toothless mouth — on a piece of paper was the profile of the tyrant Stalin, who was burning down from Mustafa’s frantic puffs. He closed his eyes and ... after a year and a half he left under an amnesty. Damned Stalin, thought Mustafa and applied for joining the party in order to get the position of brigadier on the collective farm. The cold summer of 1953 was approaching ... The thaw was already felt with all the fibers of the soul.
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