Once upon a time there lived an old man and an old woman.
Maybe I should ask the missus to bake me a kolobok.
The old man thought to himself, immediately got up from the bench and, shuffling in his worn-out boots, hobbled towards the cottage.
He slammed the door loudly, the rickety walls shook, but the old woman didn't react—she was busy getting through another level of the game 'Magnetise Koschei'. Koschei wasn't magnetising, and the old woman was starting to get cranky. The old man quickly assessed the situation, realised he was about to be blamed for all her failures, but decided not to back down.
Listen, love, how about we bake a kolobok?
He began timidly, secretly hoping she wouldn't hear him and everything would blow over.
But the old woman heard him and, looking up from the screen, responded surprisingly calmly:
What are you on about, old man? What kolobok? That's technically impossible. Where am I going to get the right kind of flour? As far as I remember the recipe, you have to scrape it from the barn and sweep it from the grain bins. Have you got a barn, or grain bins by any chance? You probably don't even know what those are, your knowledge is limited because you can't use Google! So come on, settle for a little cake and don't expect anything too fancy, we haven't got a supermarket in our cellar!
The old man was once again amazed by his wife's technical savvy and happily agreed to the cake. The old woman perked up and bustled off to the kitchen. There she rushed from cupboard to table, from table to oven, and soon it smelled delicious, the mixer whirred, white vanilla foam rose up.
The cake turned out brilliantly. Small, admittedly, but quite appetising.
Let it soak.
Said the old woman, surveying the fruit of her labours with satisfaction.
She put the cake on the windowsill and immersed herself again in the sweet world of electronic games, still stubbornly trying to magnetise Koschei. The old man could only stare at his wife's back in her floral dressing gown and listen to the battle cries occasionally uttered by his dearly beloved wife. Soon he grew completely bored and began to doze in his chair to the old woman's exclamations.
The cake on the windowsill soaked through, came to life, tipped onto its side that wasn't soaked with cream, fell onto the grass beneath the window, lay there for a bit and rolled off down the path.
It hadn't rolled far when it saw something hopping towards it. Upon closer inspection, the hopping object turned out to be a live hare.
The hare froze in surprise, seeing a cake rolling down the path.
Oi you, pastry wonder, where are you rolling to? Stop, I'm going to eat you!
As if! You've been reading too many fairy tales, mate! I was lying in the sun, soaking through, having a rest, rolled off the windowsill, ran down the path. Put the old man to sleep quick smart, drowned the old woman in the internet. And you, Hare, you're no obstacle to me at all.
While the hare was wiggling his ears, trying to make sense of what he'd heard—he didn't quite understand something about the old woman—the cake ducked behind a stump and disappeared.
The cake rolls on. It sees someone else looming ahead. A figure bigger than the hare. Crikey! It's the Wolf!
Blow me down, used to be kolokoks everywhere, now cakes are rolling around underfoot. Fancy a snack?
You planning to snack on me, are you, Grey?
What do you reckon? There doesn't seem to be anything else edible around here.
Don't even think about it! I've got so much cholesterol in me that even the old woman and old man changed their minds about eating me! Didn't want to cark it before their time. Just chucked me out the window, so I rolled off, what else was I supposed to do?
The wolf thought about it.
What about just a piece? One bit won't hurt, will it?—he said timidly.
Listen, Grey, life hasn't taught you anything, has it? Has your tail grown back yet? After that winter fishing trip with the Fox?
Not waiting for the wolf to finish feeling his tail, the cake prudently rolled into a grass-covered ditch.
When the cake rolled out of the ditch, the sun was already setting, and in the clearing, with his belly exposed to the last non-scorching rays, lay the Bear. The cake miscalculated slightly and crashed right into his side. However, it managed to bounce away in time, and the Bear didn't manage to swipe it with his paw.
What's this? A cake? Did the Fox send you as a present for me?
Yeah, right! I'm here training for speed! And you're in my way. Sprawled out like you're at the zoo. There are no individual enclosures here!
Aw, don't get your knickers in a twist, if you're training then train! I'm getting up now, I'm moving away. Go on, roll along, if you see the Fox, say g'day from me.
The Bear mumbled good-naturedly.
The cake chuckled at the bear's simplicity and rolled on. The sun set, and dusk enveloped the forest. The cake didn't notice someone creeping up behind it.
Excellent! Marvellous! Wonderful! A cake on the path!
It was the Fox's voice.
The Bear says g'day, Red.
What are you mumbling about? I can't hear a thing. Come roll closer. Don't be scared, I've got diabetes now, ate too many kolokoks. So you're not interesting to me as food, you don't appeal to me, got it? Come on, shift those creamy layers! I haven't got time to receive greetings from you, the Wolf's waiting for me at the chook pen!
No he's not!
The cake squealed joyfully, rolling towards the Fox.
No he's not, he's walking along the path, so you'll have to deal with the chooks yours…
The cake didn't get to finish. The Fox bent down lower, opened her mouth wider, and the cake didn't even have time to realise that it was no longer rolling along the path, but moving down the Fox's oesophagus.
And therefore didn't have time to reflect on what comes from an excessive desire to show off one's knowledge.
