The main characters of the story “Chicken Soup” from V. Dragunsky’s collection “Denis’s Stories” are the boy Denis and his dad. Denis was sitting at home and drawing when his mother came from the store and brought a chicken. She instructed Denis to tell his dad to cook this chicken when he came home. When dad came and asked what was for lunch, Denis told him about mom’s errand.
Dad immediately began to tell how many different delicious dishes can be prepared from chicken, but Denis asked him to prepare the simplest dish. To this, dad replied that the simplest dish is chicken broth. He instructed his son to cut the hairs from the chicken, and he went to the kitchen to put water on the stove.
Denis tried very hard and carefully cut every hair, but there were a lot of them. Soon dad returned from the kitchen and slapped himself on the forehead, because he remembered that the chicken should not be sheared, but scorched on the fire. Dad and son went to the kitchen and started singeing the chicken. As a result, the chicken was burnt and turned black. Dad sent his son to wash the chicken, but it couldn’t be washed, even with soap. Then dad decided to wash the chicken himself, but it slipped out of his hands and “flew away” under the cabinet. I had to get it out with a mop. The somehow washed chicken was put into the water and put on the fire. At this time, my mother returned and asked why the kitchen was in such chaos. To this, the father replied that he and his son were cooking chicken. Mom asked if they gutted the chicken? It turned out that no. Then my mother sighed and said that she would have to start all over again and cook the chicken herself.
This is the summary of the story.
The main idea of the story “Chicken Soup” is that you shouldn’t be arrogant and think that you can do everything. Deniska’s dad started cooking chicken, not knowing how to do it at all. As a result, she and her son didn’t even cook the chicken, and they made a mess in the kitchen.
The story teaches you to be skillful and knowledgeable, teaches you to perform not only your direct duties, but also to master such an important skill for a person as cooking.
In the story “Chicken Soup,” I liked Denis’s dad, who had a lot of fun doing culinary chores. And although she and her son were unable to cook chicken, they had a very exciting day.
What proverbs fit the story “Chicken Soup”?
If you don't go through with it, you won't become smarter.
Near fire you will get burned, near water you will wet yourself.
The master's work is afraid.
Mom brought a chicken from the store, large, bluish, with long bony legs. The chicken had a large red comb on its head. Mom hung it outside the window and said:
“If dad comes earlier, let him cook.” Will you pass it on?
I said:
- With pleasure!
And my mother went to college. And I took out watercolors and began to paint. I wanted to draw a squirrel jumping through the trees in the forest, and at first it came out great, but then I looked and saw that it wasn’t a squirrel at all, but some guy who looked like Moidodyr. The squirrel's tail turned out to be his nose, and the branches on the tree looked like hair, ears and a hat... I was very surprised how this could happen, and when dad came, I said:
- Guess what I drew, dad?
He looked and thought:
- What are you doing, dad? Take a good look!
Then dad looked properly and said:
- Oh, sorry, it’s probably football...
I said:
– You’re kind of inattentive! You're probably tired?
- No, I just want to eat. Don't know what's for lunch?
I said:
- There’s a chicken hanging outside the window. Cook it and eat it!
Dad unhooked the chicken from the window and put it on the table.
- It's easy to say, cook! You can cook it. Cooking is nonsense. The question is, in what form should we eat it? You can prepare at least a hundred wonderful nutritious dishes from chicken. You can, for example, make simple chicken cutlets, or you can roll up a ministerial schnitzel - with grapes! I read about it! You can make such a cutlet on the bone - it's called "Kiev" - you'll lick your fingers. You can boil chicken with noodles, or you can press it with an iron, pour garlic over it and you will get, like in Georgia, “tobacco chicken.” You can finally...
But I interrupted him. I said:
- You, dad, cook something simple, without irons. Something, you know, the fastest!
Dad immediately agreed:
- That's right, son! What is important to us? Eat quickly! You've captured the essence. What can you cook faster? The answer is simple and clear: broth!
Dad even rubbed his hands.
I asked:
- Do you know how to make broth?
But dad just laughed.
- What can you do here? – His eyes even sparkled. – Broth is simpler than steamed turnips: put it in water and wait for it to cook, that’s all the wisdom. It's decided! We cook the broth, and very soon we will have a two-course dinner: for the first - broth with bread, for the second - boiled, hot, steaming chicken. Well, throw down your Repin brush and let's help!
I said:
– What should I do?
- Look! You see there are some hairs on the chicken. You should cut them off, because I don’t like shaggy broth. You cut off these hairs, while I go to the kitchen and put the water on boil!
And he went to the kitchen. And I took my mother’s scissors and began to trim the hairs on the chicken one by one. At first I thought that there would be few of them, but then I looked closer and saw that there were a lot, even too many. And I began to cut them, and tried to cut them quickly, like in a hairdresser, and clicked the scissors in the air as I moved from hair to hair.
Dad entered the room, looked at me and said:
– Shoot more from the sides, otherwise it will look like boxing!
I said:
– It doesn’t cut your hair very quickly...
But then dad suddenly slaps himself on the forehead:
- God! Well, you and I are stupid, Deniska! And how I forgot! Finish your haircut! She needs to be scorched in the fire! Understand? That's what everyone does. We will set it on fire, and all the hairs will burn, and there will be no need for a haircut or shaving. Behind me!
And he grabbed the chicken and ran with it to the kitchen. And I'm behind him. We lit a new burner, because there was already a pot of water on one, and began to roast the chicken on the fire. It burned really well and the whole apartment smelled like burnt wool. Dad turned her from side to side and said:
- Now! Oh, and good chicken! Now she will be all burnt and will become clean and white...
But the chicken, on the contrary, became somewhat black, all charred, and dad finally turned off the gas.
He said:
“I think it somehow got smoked unexpectedly.” Do you like smoked chicken?
I said:
- No. It's not smoked, it's just covered in soot. Come on, dad, I'll wash her.
He was positively delighted.
- Well done! - he said. -You're smart. You have good heredity. You're all about me. Come on, my friend, take this chimney sweep chicken and wash it thoroughly under the tap, otherwise I’m already tired of this fuss.
And he sat down on the stool.
And I said:
- Now, I’ll get her instantly!
And I went to the sink and turned on the water, placed our chicken under it and began to rub it with my right hand as hard as I could. The chicken was very hot and terribly dirty, and I immediately got my hands dirty up to my elbows. Dad rocked on the stool.
“This,” I said, “is what you did to her, dad.” Doesn't wash off at all. There is a lot of soot.
“It’s nothing,” said dad, “the soot is only on top.” It can't all be made of soot, can it? Wait a minute!
And dad went into the bathroom and brought me a large piece of strawberry soap.
“Here,” he said, “mine properly!” Lather up!
And I began to soap this unfortunate chicken. She began to look completely dead. I soaped it up pretty well, but it didn’t wash well, dirt was dripping off it, it had been dripping for probably half an hour, but it wasn’t getting any cleaner.
I said:
“This damn rooster is just getting smeared from the soap.”
Then dad said:
- Here's a brush! Take it, rub it well! First the back, and then everything else.
I began to rub. I rubbed as hard as I could, in some places even rubbing the skin. But it was still very difficult for me, because the chicken suddenly seemed to come to life and began to spin in my hands, slide and try to jump out every second. But dad still didn’t leave his stool and kept ordering:
- Stronger than three! More dexterous! Hold your wings! Oh you! Yes, I see you don’t know how to wash a chicken at all.
I then said:
- Dad, try it yourself!
And I handed him the chicken. But he didn’t have time to take it, when suddenly she jumped out of my hands and galloped off under the farthest cabinet. But dad was not at a loss. He said:
- Give me the mop!
And when I served it, dad began to sweep it out from under the cabinet with a mop. First he scooped out the old mousetrap, then my last year's tin soldier, and I was terribly happy, because I thought I had completely lost him, but here he was, my dear.
Then dad finally pulled out the chicken. She was covered in dust. And dad was all red. But he grabbed her by the paw and dragged her under the tap again. He said:
- Well, now hold on. Blue bird.
And he rinsed it quite clean and put it in the pan. At this time my mother arrived. She said:
-What kind of destruction are you having here?
And dad sighed and said:
- We're cooking chicken.
Mom said:
“They just dipped it in,” said dad.
Mom took the lid off the saucepan.
- Salted? – she asked.
But mom sniffed the saucepan.
- Gutted? - she said.
“Later,” said dad, “when it’s cooked.”
Mom sighed and took the chicken out of the pan. She said:
- Deniska, bring me an apron, please. We'll have to finish everything for you, would-be cooks.
And I ran into the room, took an apron and grabbed my picture from the table. I gave my mother the apron and asked her:
- Well, what did I draw? Guess, mom!
Mom looked and said:
- Sewing machine? Yes?
Dragunsky V. Yu.
Mom brought a chicken from the store, large, bluish, with long bony legs. The chicken had a large red comb on its head. Mom hung it outside the window and said:
“If dad comes earlier, let him cook.” Will you pass it on?
I said:
- With pleasure!
And my mother went to college. And I took out watercolors and began to paint. I wanted to draw a squirrel jumping through the trees in the forest, and at first it came out great, but then I looked and saw that it wasn’t a squirrel at all, but some guy who looked like Moidodyr. The squirrel's tail turned out to be his nose, and the branches on the tree looked like hair, ears and a hat... I was very surprised how this could happen, and when dad came, I said:
- Guess what I drew, dad?
He looked and thought:
- What are you doing, dad? Take a good look!
Then dad looked properly and said:
- Oh, sorry, it’s probably football...
I said:
– You’re kind of inattentive! You're probably tired?
- No, I just want to eat. Don't know what's for lunch?
I said:
- There’s a chicken hanging outside the window. Cook it and eat it!
Dad unhooked the chicken from the window and put it on the table.
- It's easy to say, cook! You can cook it. Cooking is nonsense. The question is, in what form should we eat it? You can prepare at least a hundred wonderful nutritious dishes from chicken. You can, for example, make simple chicken cutlets, or you can roll up a ministerial schnitzel - with grapes! I read about it! You can make such a cutlet on the bone - it's called "Kiev" - you'll lick your fingers. You can boil chicken with noodles, or you can press it with an iron, pour garlic over it and you will get, like in Georgia, “tobacco chicken.” You can finally...
But I interrupted him. I said:
- You, dad, cook something simple, without irons. Something, you know, the fastest!
Dad immediately agreed:
- That's right, son! What is important to us? Eat quickly! You've captured the essence. What can you cook faster? The answer is simple and clear: broth!
Dad even rubbed his hands.
I asked:
- Do you know how to make broth?
But dad just laughed.
- What can you do here? – His eyes even sparkled. – Broth is simpler than steamed turnips: put it in water and wait for it to cook, that’s all the wisdom. It's decided! We cook the broth, and very soon we will have a two-course dinner: for the first - broth with bread, for the second - boiled, hot, steaming chicken. Well, throw down your Repin brush and let's help!
I said:
– What should I do?
- Look! You see there are some hairs on the chicken. You should cut them off, because I don’t like shaggy broth. You cut off these hairs, while I go to the kitchen and put the water on boil!
And he went to the kitchen. And I took my mother’s scissors and began to trim the hairs on the chicken one by one. At first I thought that there would be few of them, but then I looked closer and saw that there were a lot, even too many. And I began to cut them, and tried to cut them quickly, like in a hairdresser, and clicked the scissors in the air as I moved from hair to hair.
Dad entered the room, looked at me and said:
– Shoot more from the sides, otherwise it will look like boxing!
I said:
– It doesn’t cut your hair very quickly...
But then dad suddenly slaps himself on the forehead:
- God! Well, you and I are stupid, Deniska! And how I forgot! Finish your haircut! She needs to be scorched in the fire! Understand? That's what everyone does. We will set it on fire, and all the hairs will burn, and there will be no need for a haircut or shaving. Behind me!
And he grabbed the chicken and ran with it to the kitchen. And I'm behind him. We lit a new burner, because there was already a pot of water on one, and began to roast the chicken on the fire. It burned really well and the whole apartment smelled like burnt wool. Dad turned her from side to side and said:
- Now! Oh, and good chicken! Now she will be all burnt and will become clean and white...
But the chicken, on the contrary, became somewhat black, all charred, and dad finally turned off the gas.
He said:
“I think it somehow got smoked unexpectedly.” Do you like smoked chicken?
I said:
- No. It's not smoked, it's just covered in soot. Come on, dad, I'll wash her.
He was positively delighted.
- Well done! - he said. -You're smart. You have good heredity. You're all about me. Come on, my friend, take this chimney sweep chicken and wash it thoroughly under the tap, otherwise I’m already tired of this fuss.
And he sat down on the stool.
And I said:
- Now, I’ll get her instantly!
And I went to the sink and turned on the water, placed our chicken under it and began to rub it with my right hand as hard as I could. The chicken was very hot and terribly dirty, and I immediately got my hands dirty up to my elbows. Dad rocked on the stool.
“This,” I said, “is what you did to her, dad.” Doesn't wash off at all. There is a lot of soot.
“It’s nothing,” said dad, “the soot is only on top.” It can't all be made of soot, can it? Wait a minute!
And dad went into the bathroom and brought me a large piece of strawberry soap.
“Here,” he said, “mine properly!” Lather up!
And I began to soap this unfortunate chicken. She began to look completely dead. I soaped it up pretty well, but it didn’t wash well, dirt was dripping off it, it had been dripping for probably half an hour, but it wasn’t getting any cleaner.
I said:
“This damn rooster is just getting smeared from the soap.”
Then dad said:
- Here's a brush! Take it, rub it well! First the back, and then everything else.
I began to rub. I rubbed as hard as I could, in some places even rubbing the skin. But it was still very difficult for me, because the chicken suddenly seemed to come to life and began to spin in my hands, slide and try to jump out every second. But dad still didn’t leave his stool and kept ordering:
- Stronger than three! More dexterous! Hold your wings! Oh you! Yes, I see you don’t know how to wash a chicken at all.
I then said:
- Dad, try it yourself!
And I handed him the chicken. But he didn’t have time to take it, when suddenly she jumped out of my hands and galloped off under the farthest cabinet. But dad was not at a loss. He said:
- Give me the mop!
And when I served it, dad began to sweep it out from under the cabinet with a mop. First he scooped out the old mousetrap, then my last year's tin soldier, and I was terribly happy, because I thought I had completely lost him, but here he was, my dear.
Then dad finally pulled out the chicken. She was covered in dust. And dad was all red. But he grabbed her by the paw and dragged her under the tap again. He said:
- Well, now hold on. Blue bird.
And he rinsed it quite clean and put it in the pan. At this time my mother arrived. She said:
-What kind of destruction are you having here?
And dad sighed and said:
- We're cooking chicken.
Mom said:
“They just dipped it in,” said dad.
Mom took the lid off the saucepan.
- Salted? – she asked.
But mom sniffed the saucepan.
- Gutted? - she said.
“Later,” said dad, “when it’s cooked.”
Mom sighed and took the chicken out of the pan. She said:
- Deniska, bring me an apron, please. We'll have to finish everything for you, would-be cooks.
And I ran into the room, took an apron and grabbed my picture from the table. I gave my mother the apron and asked her:
- Well, what did I draw? Guess, mom!
Mom looked and said:
- Sewing machine? Yes?
Dear parents, it is very useful to read the fairy tale “Chicken Soup” by Dragunsky V. Yu. to children before bedtime, so that the good ending of the fairy tale makes them happy and calm, and they fall asleep. How charmingly and soulfully the description of nature, mythical creatures and the way of life of the people was conveyed from generation to generation. A person’s worldview is formed gradually, and this kind of work is extremely important and edifying for our young readers. It is very useful when the plot is simple and, so to speak, life-like, when similar situations arise in our everyday life, this contributes to better memorization. The entire surrounding space, depicted with vivid visual images, is permeated with kindness, friendship, loyalty and indescribable delight. Once again, re-reading this composition, you will certainly discover something new, useful, edifying, and essential. It is amazing that with empathy, compassion, strong friendship and unshakable will, the hero always manages to resolve all troubles and misfortunes. The fairy tale “Chicken Soup” by V. Yu. Dragunsky can be read for free online countless times without losing your love and desire for this creation.
Mom brought a chicken from the store, large, bluish, with long bony legs. The chicken had a large red comb on its head. Mom hung it outside the window and said:
“If dad comes earlier, let him cook.” Will you pass it on?
I said:
- With pleasure!
And my mother went to college. And I took out watercolors and began to paint. I wanted to draw a squirrel jumping through the trees in the forest, and at first it came out great, but then I looked and saw that it wasn’t a squirrel at all, but some guy who looked like Moidodyr. The squirrel's tail turned out to be his nose, and the branches on the tree looked like hair, ears and a hat... I was very surprised how this could happen, and when dad came, I said:
- Guess what I drew, dad?
He looked and thought:
- What are you doing, dad? Take a good look!
Then dad looked properly and said:
- Oh, sorry, it’s probably football...
I said:
– You’re kind of inattentive! You're probably tired?
- No, I just want to eat. Don't know what's for lunch?
I said:
- There’s a chicken hanging outside the window. Cook it and eat it!
Dad unhooked the chicken from the window and put it on the table.
- It's easy to say, cook! You can cook it. Cooking is nonsense. The question is, in what form should we eat it? You can prepare at least a hundred wonderful nutritious dishes from chicken. You can, for example, make simple chicken cutlets, or you can roll up a ministerial schnitzel - with grapes! I read about it! You can make such a cutlet on the bone - it's called "Kiev" - you'll lick your fingers. You can boil chicken with noodles, or you can press it with an iron, pour garlic over it and you will get, like in Georgia, “tobacco chicken.” You can finally...
But I interrupted him. I said:
- You, dad, cook something simple, without irons. Something, you know, the fastest!
Dad immediately agreed:
- That's right, son! What is important to us? Eat quickly! You've captured the essence. What can you cook faster? The answer is simple and clear: broth!
Dad even rubbed his hands.
I asked:
- Do you know how to make broth?
But dad just laughed.
- What can you do here? – His eyes even sparkled. – Broth is simpler than steamed turnips: put it in water and wait for it to cook, that’s all the wisdom. It's decided! We cook the broth, and very soon we will have a two-course dinner: for the first - broth with bread, for the second - boiled, hot, steaming chicken. Well, throw down your Repin brush and let's help!
I said:
– What should I do?
- Look! You see there are some hairs on the chicken. You should cut them off, because I don’t like shaggy broth. You cut off these hairs, while I go to the kitchen and put the water on boil!
And he went to the kitchen. And I took my mother’s scissors and began to trim the hairs on the chicken one by one. At first I thought that there would be few of them, but then I looked closer and saw that there were a lot, even too many. And I began to cut them, and tried to cut them quickly, like in a hairdresser, and clicked the scissors in the air as I moved from hair to hair.
Dad entered the room, looked at me and said:
– Shoot more from the sides, otherwise it will look like boxing!
I said:
– It doesn’t cut your hair very quickly...
But then dad suddenly slaps himself on the forehead:
- God! Well, you and I are stupid, Deniska! And how I forgot! Finish your haircut! She needs to be scorched in the fire! Understand? That's what everyone does. We will set it on fire, and all the hairs will burn, and there will be no need for a haircut or shaving. Behind me!
And he grabbed the chicken and ran with it to the kitchen. And I'm behind him. We lit a new burner, because there was already a pot of water on one, and began to roast the chicken on the fire. It burned really well and the whole apartment smelled like burnt wool. Dad turned her from side to side and said:
- Now! Oh, and good chicken! Now she will be all burnt and will become clean and white...
But the chicken, on the contrary, became somewhat black, all charred, and dad finally turned off the gas.
He said:
“I think it somehow got smoked unexpectedly.” Do you like smoked chicken?
I said:
- No. It's not smoked, it's just covered in soot. Come on, dad, I'll wash her.
He was positively delighted.
- Well done! - he said. -You're smart. You have good heredity. You're all about me. Come on, my friend, take this chimney sweep chicken and wash it thoroughly under the tap, otherwise I’m already tired of this fuss.
And he sat down on the stool.
And I said:
- Now, I’ll get her instantly!
And I went to the sink and turned on the water, placed our chicken under it and began to rub it with my right hand as hard as I could. The chicken was very hot and terribly dirty, and I immediately got my hands dirty up to my elbows. Dad rocked on the stool.
“This,” I said, “is what you did to her, dad.” Doesn't wash off at all. There is a lot of soot.
“It’s nothing,” said dad, “the soot is only on top.” It can't all be made of soot, can it? Wait a minute!
And dad went into the bathroom and brought me a large piece of strawberry soap.
“Here,” he said, “mine properly!” Lather up!
And I began to soap this unfortunate chicken. She began to look completely dead. I soaped it up pretty well, but it didn’t wash well, dirt was dripping off it, it had been dripping for probably half an hour, but it wasn’t getting any cleaner.
I said:
“This damn rooster is just getting smeared from the soap.”
Then dad said:
- Here's a brush! Take it, rub it well! First the back, and then everything else.
I began to rub. I rubbed as hard as I could, in some places even rubbing the skin. But it was still very difficult for me, because the chicken suddenly seemed to come to life and began to spin in my hands, slide and try to jump out every second. But dad still didn’t leave his stool and kept ordering:
- Stronger than three! More dexterous! Hold your wings! Oh you! Yes, I see you don’t know how to wash a chicken at all.
I then said:
- Dad, try it yourself!
And I handed him the chicken. But he didn’t have time to take it, when suddenly she jumped out of my hands and galloped off under the farthest cabinet. But dad was not at a loss. He said:
- Give me the mop!
And when I served it, dad began to sweep it out from under the cabinet with a mop. First he scooped out the old mousetrap, then my last year's tin soldier, and I was terribly happy, because I thought I had completely lost him, but here he was, my dear.
Then dad finally pulled out the chicken. She was covered in dust. And dad was all red. But he grabbed her by the paw and dragged her under the tap again. He said:
- Well, now hold on. Blue bird.
And he rinsed it quite clean and put it in the pan. At this time my mother arrived. She said:
-What kind of destruction are you having here?
And dad sighed and said:
- We're cooking chicken.
Mom said:
“They just dipped it in,” said dad.
Mom took the lid off the saucepan.
- Salted? – she asked.
But mom sniffed the saucepan.
- Gutted? - she said.
“Later,” said dad, “when it’s cooked.”
Mom sighed and took the chicken out of the pan. She said:
- Deniska, bring me an apron, please. We'll have to finish everything for you, would-be cooks.
And I ran into the room, took an apron and grabbed my picture from the table. I gave my mother the apron and asked her:
- Well, what did I draw? Guess, mom!
Mom looked and said:
- Sewing machine? Yes?
CHICKEN BOUILLON
Mom brought a chicken from the store, large, bluish, with long bony legs. The chicken had a large red comb on its head. Mom hung it outside the window and said:
- If dad comes earlier, let him cook. Will you pass it on?
I said:
- With pleasure!
And my mother went to college. And I took out watercolors and began to paint. I wanted to draw a squirrel jumping through the trees in the forest, and at first it came out great, but then I looked and saw that it wasn’t a squirrel at all, but some guy who looked like Moidodyr. The squirrel's tail turned out to be his nose, and the branches on the tree looked like hair, ears and a hat... I was very surprised how this could happen, and when dad came, I said:
- Guess, dad, what I drew?
He looked and thought:
- Fire?
- What are you doing, dad? Take a good look!
Then dad looked properly and said:
- Oh, sorry, it's probably football...
I said:
- You’re kind of inattentive! You're probably tired?
And he:
- No, I just want to eat. Don't know what's for lunch?
I said:
- There’s a chicken hanging outside the window. Cook it and eat it!
Dad unhooked the chicken from the window and put it on the table.
- It's easy to say, cook! You can cook it. Cooking is nonsense. The question is, in what form should we eat it? You can prepare at least a hundred wonderful nutritious dishes from chicken. You can, for example, make simple chicken cutlets, or you can roll up a ministerial schnitzel - with grapes! I read about it! You can make such a cutlet on the bone - it's called "Kiev" - you'll lick your fingers. You can cook chicken with noodles, or you can press it with an iron, pour garlic over it and you will get, like in Georgia, “chicken tobacco”. You can finally...
But I interrupted him. I said:
- You, dad, cook something simple, without irons. Something, you know, the fastest!
Dad immediately agreed:
- That's right, son! What is important to us? Eat quickly! You've captured the essence. What can you cook faster? The answer is simple and clear: broth!
Dad even rubbed his hands.
I asked:
- Do you know how to make broth?
But dad just laughed.
- What can you do here? - His eyes even sparkled. - Broth is simpler than steamed turnips: put it in water and wait for it to cook, that’s all the wisdom. It's decided! We cook the broth, and very soon we will have a two-course dinner: for the first - broth with bread, for the second - boiled, hot, steaming chicken. Well, throw down your Repin brush and let's help!
I said:
- What should I do?
- Look! You see there are some hairs on the chicken. You should cut them off, because I don’t like shaggy broth. You cut off these hairs, while I go to the kitchen and put the water on boil!
And he went to the kitchen. And I took my mother’s scissors and began to trim the hairs on the chicken one by one. At first I thought that there would be few of them, but then I looked closer and saw that there were a lot, even too many. And I began to cut them, and tried to cut them quickly, like in a hairdresser, and clicked the scissors in the air as I moved from hair to hair.
Dad entered the room, looked at me and said:
- Shoot more from the sides, otherwise it will look like boxing!
I said:
- It doesn’t cut your hair very quickly...
But then dad suddenly slaps himself on the forehead:
- God! Well, you and I are stupid, Deniska! And how I forgot! Finish your haircut! She needs to be scorched in the fire! Understand? That's what everyone does. We will set it on fire, and all the hairs will burn, and there will be no need for a haircut or shaving. Behind me!
And he grabbed the chicken and ran with it to the kitchen. And I'm behind him. We lit a new burner, because there was already a pot of water on one, and began to roast the chicken on the fire. It burned really well and the whole apartment smelled like burnt wool. Dad turned her from side to side and said:
- Now! Oh, and good chicken! Now she will be all burnt and will become clean and white...
But the chicken, on the contrary, became somewhat black, all charred, and dad finally turned off the gas.
He said:
- In my opinion, it somehow suddenly became smoked. Do you like smoked chicken?
I said:
- No. It's not smoked, it's just covered in soot. Come on, dad, I'll wash her.
He was positively delighted.
- Well done! - he said. - You're smart. You have good heredity. You're all about me. Come on, my friend, take this chimney sweep chicken and wash it thoroughly under the tap, otherwise I’m already tired of this fuss.
And he sat down on the stool.
And I said:
- Now, I’ll get her instantly!
And I went to the sink and turned on the water, placed our chicken under it and began to rub it with my right hand as hard as I could. The chicken was very hot and terribly dirty, and I immediately got my hands dirty up to my elbows. Dad rocked on the stool.
“This,” I said, “is what you, dad, did to her.” Doesn't wash off at all. There is a lot of soot.
“It’s nothing,” said dad, “the soot is only on top.” It can't all be made of soot, can it? Wait a minute!
And dad went into the bathroom and brought me a large piece of strawberry soap.
“Here,” he said, “mine properly!” Lather up!
And I began to soap this unfortunate chicken. She began to look completely dead. I soaped it up pretty well, but it didn’t wash well, dirt was dripping off it, it had been dripping for probably half an hour, but it wasn’t getting any cleaner.
I said:
- This damned rooster is just getting smeared from the soap.
Then dad said:
- Here's a brush! Take it, rub it well! First the back, and then everything else.
I began to rub. I rubbed as hard as I could, in some places even rubbing the skin. But it was still very difficult for me, because the chicken suddenly seemed to come to life and began to spin in my hands, slide and try to jump out every second. But dad still didn’t leave his stool and kept ordering:
- Stronger than three! More dexterous! Hold your wings! Oh you! Yes, I see you don’t know how to wash a chicken at all.
I then said:
- Dad, try it yourself!
And I handed him the chicken. But he didn’t have time to take it, when suddenly she jumped out of my hands and galloped off under the farthest cabinet. But dad was not at a loss. He said:
- Give me the mop!
And when I served it, dad began to sweep it out from under the cabinet with a mop. First he scooped out the old mousetrap, then my last year's tin soldier, and I was terribly happy, because I thought I had completely lost him, but here he was, my dear.
Then dad finally pulled out the chicken. She was covered in dust. And dad was all red. But he grabbed her by the paw and dragged her under the tap again. He said:
- Well, now hold on. Blue bird.
And he rinsed it quite clean and put it in the pan. At this time my mother arrived. She said:
- What kind of destruction are you having here?
And dad sighed and said:
- We're cooking chicken.
Mom said:
- For a long time?
“We just dipped it in,” said dad.
Mom took the lid off the saucepan.
- Salted? - she asked.
But mom sniffed the saucepan.
- Gutted? - she said.
“Later,” said dad, “when it’s cooked.”
Mom sighed and took the chicken out of the pan. She said:
- Deniska, bring me an apron, please. We'll have to finish everything for you, would-be cooks.
And I ran into the room, took an apron and grabbed my picture from the table. I gave my mother the apron and asked her:
- Well, what did I draw? Guess, mom!
Mom looked and said:
- Sewing machine? Yes?
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