Chain

Marta stood over the cardboard box, gazing tenderly at its contents. She opened her mouth to call out to the person closest to her heart, but then closed it again. She wanted to wonder how the box in front of her had such and such contents.

***

This thought struck 18-year-old Marta like a bolt from the blue. She thought about Mother's Day being a week away. Like any daughter, Marta had a passionate, immense affection for her mother. She wanted to reward her somehow by giving her a gift. At first, she wanted to take the easy way out and buy her a simple chocolate or a flower. But on this day, her mind showed exceptional creativity. She decided to paint a picture for her mother, as she had inherited her artistic talent. After a moment's thought, the girl decided it would be best to capture a baby on canvas, as her mother loved children very much.

Full of enthusiasm, she ran to her room, grabbed a pencil, and tore out a piece of paper, but... After a moment, she remembered that this was supposed to be a real painting, not some poor drawing. So she quickly went to the shop, but unfortunately, they didn't have professional painting equipment. So she returned home and sank into blissful inactivity, the idea vanishing from her mind.

***

As mentioned above, the idea flew from Marta's mind. It flew high, high into the sky. Until it reached a certain sparrow flying through the air. This idea, too, struck him like a bolt from the blue. You might be wondering what some foolish sparrow could have done with such a lofty idea. Well... The sparrow flew down, perched elegantly on the grass, and pecked at bread crumbs—as sparrows do. A sparrow may have a bird's brain, but he interpreted the idea completely correctly. Because we humans think that a little bird doesn't think at all. This is flawed, because at that moment the sparrow was thinking very intensely. It was trying to remember this important message: "Paint a child!"

Now let's put ourselves in the sparrow's shoes. Just imagine: being such a tiny creature and having such a huge mission to accomplish—this, of course, refers to Marta's idea. Even though the bird was very silly, it instinctively sensed that such information couldn't remain just in its head. So it decided to return to its home under the crow's nest, where its wife and five children were waiting for it. As it flew, it kept repeating to itself: "Paint a child!" He decided to share his idea with its family.

"Wife!" he chirped in bird-like tones from the doorway. "A wonderful idea, I don't know where, has popped into my head. Listen, because here it is. And you children, listen too: "Paint a child!" What do you think? What can it mean and what impact can it have on our lives?

"Oh, Alfonso. I don't know, I'm not one for thinking, I'm just here hatching eggs," his worried wife replied.

"And you children? What do you think?

" "Daddy!" all five chirped, "we're just children, just learning to fly, we know nothing about life.

" "Alfonso, you go to the stork, he travels far and wide and surely knows a lot about the world," his wife advised him.

"I'll go."

And Alfonso, for that was the name of this resolute sparrow, went to his neighbor. But unfortunately, he didn't find him in the nest, as he had just flown off to catch frogs for the evening. The sparrow thought to himself, "What the hell! I'm not as stupid as they say I am. I'll fly around a bit and everything will immediately fall into place in my head." He did as he had decided. He flew around for two hours and came up with nothing, absolutely nothing. The only thoughts swirling through his head were those of flying, so he still didn't know what to do with his own idea—not his own.

"Hey! Alfonso," the crow cawed, "Why are you flying around?"

"Well, I'm flying because I have an idea and I don't know what to do with it...

" "Maybe I'll help you?" the crow suggested.

"I don't know. Maybe. Because listen, I have this idea, exactly this one: 'Paint a child.' What do you think of it?

" "Pretty cool," the crow said unenthusiastically, "but are you sure it's your idea? Maybe you overheard it somewhere or something...

" "No! It's my idea. And you can't tell me otherwise!" Alfonso chirped indignantly and flew away from the crow.

"She's not going to tell me what's mine and what's not!" the furious bird thought to himself. He decided he'd sleep on the idea and surely dream up a solution. He flew to the nearest oak tree, sat on a branch, and fell asleep.

Of course, he didn't dream anything about his idea. What's more, the sparrow didn't have any dreams, as he was so tired that he had a very deep sleep...

The next day, the sparrow woke up all sore. Then he noticed there was blood on his feathers. "The cat attacked me!" Alfonso exclaimed, "But luckily it's over now." After this, the bird returned home.

"Alfonso! What happened to you?!" his wife exclaimed.

"Nothing. The only thing that bothers me is that I was thinking so hard about something yesterday, but now I can't remember what it was...

" ***

"Why did I jump at that sparrow?!" the furious old tomcat thought to himself. "All I have is a lot of feathers in my mouth and some strange idea in my head!"

As you can easily guess, the sparrow's idea passed on to the cat through its feathers. What will the cat do with this idea? Because I think the cat will simply fall asleep next to the nearest stove or engine. And that's exactly what will happen in this story.

The cat returned to his home and fell asleep by the radiator (a newer version of a stove). And in the meantime, of course, he ate something. The thought, "Paint a child," kept recurring in his mind; I'll even go further: it tormented him greatly. He had a terrifying dream because of it. And here it is (the cat himself will tell it to you):

Listen! It was a truly terrifying dream! I was quietly drinking milk in the kitchen, when suddenly, I don't know where or how, some hideous, overweight human kitten appeared in my favorite nook. If cats herded their children like that, no one would ever catch a single mouse! But let's get back to my dream. Well, this little guy came up to me, pulled my tail painfully, took my milk, and drank it! It was awful! But that wasn't even the worst of it. Far worse than that was what that brat did next: he screamed, "Paint me, cat!" He grabbed some thick, red, stinking liquid and poured it over me. It was simply awful; I can still feel that awfulness on every hair of my fur.

That thought, screamed by that brat, still haunts me. Ugh! I have to get rid of it somehow...

That's the end of the cat's story, so now I'll tell you. As the kitten already mentioned, he desperately wanted to get rid of that persistent thought, "Take a picture of me, cat!" To that end, he went to his owners' legs and rubbed them vigorously. But unfortunately, the thought remained in his mind. Furious, he left the house to walk around the neighborhood. At one point, the cat began to be chased by a dog. Of course, no meager dog could compete with this veteran of the neighborhood – the cat. So, at first, the cat, wanting to play with the mutt, calmly ran away from him. But after a while, he got a little tired and decided he couldn't run any further. So he stopped and waited calmly, his fur puffed up and his back arched, for the dog to catch up. When the man got in front of him, the cat deftly raised a paw, claws extended, and gave the dog a scratching post on the nose. The terrified dog ran away, and the cat, proud that he had won, as usual, returned home with a light head...

***

Having received the scratching post, the dog ran as fast as he could to his master. Reaching the old drunkard, he whined softly and settled down at his feet.

"What, Robrojek? Got a scratching post again?" the drunkard said to the animal, while the latter thought to himself: "What about you? Have you been drinking that white stuff again?" "Okay, little one. When you get really big, every cat will be afraid of you," the dog confirmed mentally.

Then the drunkard wondered why the dog was such a loser that any cat could scratch him ruthlessly, and then he remembered that he was supposed to be home an hour ago, so he quickly jumped up and ran, leaving the dog to its own devices.

"I have to get tough!" the dog thought to himself. "It can't be like this, anyone can hurt me. I have to start training or something. I'll go ask my friends."

As the dog was walking calmly back to his friends, the following thought suddenly appeared in his head: "Portrait me, cat!" He had no idea what it meant. After all, he wasn't a cat, let alone had no idea what it meant to be a portrait. He decided to ask what this could be about...

"You know what? I think you've just lost your mind," one of the dogs said, "because this thought is, to say the least, bizarre.

" "Yes, yes. It's very bizarre," another dog confirmed.

"It's inconsistent with our simple dog nature!!!" the third dog shouted over everyone.

"I know everything you're telling me here, but this thought is still in my head and it's bothering me. Maybe we should at least try to translate it into our simple dog language, eh?" Robrojek suggested.

"Hmm," the first dog began, "I think that first of all, we need to change the word 'cat' to 'dog'. So, portrait me, dog."

"But what about this sporting?" the second dog demanded.

"Not sporting, but polishing!" the third tried to correct the second.

"Idiots! It's called portraiture!" the first corrected them. "And I think we should change that word to something else too. Any ideas?"

At that point, all sorts of strange words started being said, until finally a fight broke out between the dogs, and Robrojek left, deciding they wouldn't help him. He decided that he'd surely come up with something if he were alone. He went to a nearby river, and there, lying in the grass and watching the frogs jump, he came up with a brilliant idea. At least in his opinion, brilliant, because in my opinion, the idea was, to say the least, stupid. Robrojek decided that the best replacement for the word "portrait" would be "slap." And you can see for yourself what this poor dog has in mind. As the saying goes, "God gave you a brain, but it didn't wrinkle it." But I have no influence on the thoughts of the characters in this story...

Happy and proud, the mutt ran home to his house for an afternoon nap. As he settled down in front of the fireplace, on his favorite rug, he felt an itch on his neck. He began to scratch, but it still itched. "Grrr! I don't like this!" he thought. Even though he had little common sense, he rose to the occasion and decided to go to his owners, and they would surely do something about his condition. However, when he reached the door, he hesitated before scratching, remembering how his itch had ended recently. His owner had taken him to some stinking room, where supposedly nice people were, but they were doing terrible things to him. "No! I won't let myself be dragged back there; I can deal with this itch myself," Robrojek thought, and began scratching even harder

.

"Mmm... this dog's blood is much, much tastier than the last one," a flea named Syrabynda thought to herself as she nibbled on Robrojek's skin.

She was very happy to have food and very unhappy that she had no one to conceive with. Sure, she knew a few quite nice fleas, but unfortunately, each of them was already married. Their desire for offspring was so great that she even tried to persuade them to cheat on her. But fleas are unfortunately very faithful, as evidenced by the fact that they can stay on one dog for life, as long as it doesn't scratch them off. In search of a companion, Syrabynda moved to Robrojek, but unfortunately, there were no other fleas on this dog. She felt very lonely and intended to move at the next opportunity.

This opportunity arose unexpectedly quickly, as Robrojek, having discovered the cause of his affliction, went for a walk. And the dog, of course, met a few of his friends along the way. He greeted the female dogs by sniffing them under the tail, and his male friends with a playful bite on the neck. Syrabynda began looking around for a particularly neglected dog and found one. She quickly jumped on it, but unfortunately, there were no free fleas on this one either. There were only married couples, so the resigned flea fell asleep, nestled in the mutt's matted fur.

Her dream was strange; her way of thinking was completely unfamiliar to a flea. But perhaps I'd better ask Syrabynda to tell me the story...

It was a dream that only happens once in a thousand years. I was sleeping on the dog and (warning! This will be a dream within a dream) I dreamed that the dog itched when I bit it and that it must be very sad. I was so angry at my own meanness that I burst into tears, and the crying woke me from my sleep within a dream. I foolishly decided I needed to punish myself for all the nastiness I was inflicting on dogs and cats. So I set off on a long trek to the tip of my victim's nose and shouted at him, "Dog! I'm a disgusting parasite. Slap me, dog!" The dog looked at me in surprise and tried to slap me, but since dogs are—let's be honest—quite clumsy creatures, he just fell over and glared at me. I got smarter and, falling to the ground, ran as fast as I could on my little flea legs. The dog, unable to find me, exclaimed, "You disgusting little scoundrel!!!" and I woke up. Worse still, I woke up with a feeling of guilt... My worldview completely changed. I decided to create a new flea religion.

So, from the flea's story, you already know that Robrojek's thoughts passed to Syrabynda, and the mutt forgot what he was pondering and, satisfied that he wasn't itching, went to sleep on the rug in front of the fireplace. But now let's return to the flea's story. She preached her views to a wide crowd of fleas. She implored them to treat their victims more gently. This intellectual current spread faster than any other in the world, and in just a single day! Syrabynda rose to the rank of professor in the eyes of her fellow fleas. She decided to share her innovative ideas with other insects that share a similar lifestyle to fleas. She decided to first pass this idea on to mosquitoes, after all, so hated by humans. But mosquitoes aren't very common visitors to dogs' fur. So the cunning flea jumped onto the human and patiently waited for a mosquito, but it didn't arrive for a long time.

Syrabynda was already very hungry after a full day of diligent scientific work, so she had to taste some human blood. It was delicious! So the flea drank and drank until she finally conveyed her unique thought to the man. He thought with surprise: "Fleas should respect dogs' nature? What's going on here..." But he didn't have much time to ponder this strange statement, because a mosquito immediately bit him, stealing his idea. And you must know that mosquitoes are incredibly stupid – after all, they live such a short time and have only one purpose in life: to eat and reproduce. So the mosquito understood this great, almost philosophical idea completely backwards.

"What's that?" he thought, "Dogs should respect cats' nature? This is utter nonsense! I'd better go eat something." Strangest of all, this thought – although it was deeply embedded in everyone's mind – was treated by the mosquito like a passing fly or something. He hadn't given it any thought at all! The mosquito was ravenous from this thought and prepared to bite the human. It had barely managed to immerse its stinging-sucking apparatus in the soft human skin before the heavy hand of its host fell upon it. The mosquito first saw darkness and then perished like millions of its compatriots.

***

"Oh, those stupid mosquitoes! They should be exterminated. When will these idiots finally learn that their dull existence has no deeper meaning?!" Marta thought.

And now something from me... The thought returned to the resolute head of this eighteen-year-old. It had passed through the minds of various forms more primitive than humans and taken on a form completely different from its original one. But it was still—at least in Marta's opinion—an idea for a Mother's Day gift. And its form was as follows: "Dogs should respect the nature of cats." And what will Marta do with this idea? You'll see for yourselves soon...

I must add that Marta had a large German Shepherd and loved him dearly. But her mother always dreamed of having a tiny, fluffy ball of feline in her home... After a moment's thought, Marta decided that for Mother's Day she would give her mother a kitten, and the dog would somehow get used to it.

So she took action: she read cat ads and finally managed to find a small, black-and-white rascal.

***

Marta, closing her mouth, remembered that exactly a week ago she had had another gift idea, but she couldn't remember it at all. Finally, she decided it was probably the same idea she had put into practice. She looked fondly at the kitten again and exclaimed,

"Mom! Come to the garden!

" "Okay! I'll be right back," she replied, and a moment later she was standing in front of her daughter.

"Mom! Happy Mother's Day!" Marta said, then hugged the recipient. "Now follow me. I'll show you the gift.

" "Oh!" There was no need...

"Oh, there's no need! Don't talk nonsense. You always do."

With these words, Marta led her mother to a box with a black-and-white kitten. As soon as the birthday girl saw the little one, a smile filled with tenderness spread across her face. Then she hugged her daughter and said, "I've been thinking about adopting a kitten for a long time, and now you've come up with this! Oh, honey..." After saying this, she approached the box with the little meowing animal and petted it affectionately.

"Your name will be Filemon, kitten..."