From the author: Published on the author’s page Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and a woman. No. Rough. Again. Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and grandmother. Modern people are, in general, old people, with cell phones and a TV in the kitchen. They lived on pensions, and they were very hardworking and peace-loving, like all wise people. Grandfather Freud also said that for a happy life you need only two things - love and work. But whoever doesn’t have them, take them and be happy forever and ever! Work is here, waiting and hoping everywhere. Wherever you look, there is work everywhere. Work at work, work around the house, work at the dacha, spiritual work... And for love there is a lot of things in store all around - children, parents, spouses, friends, coffee with books, the sky with the sun, finally. Work - earn money, but love - love to your heart's content! This is how our grandparents lived - they worked and loved. Each other and everything around. But actually the fairy tale is not about them, they are the context, the atmosphere, the pedigree... But the fairy tale is about a kolobok. Granny decided to bake pies with all sorts of things, since she was expecting grandchildren, and those pies with filling. I thought it up and baked it. Baking pies for the right grannies is like reading a book for another. But you can buy a little filling for retirement, so the pieces of dough were left over. But a good housewife never loses anything. From the leftover dough, she made koloboks from old memory. The koloboks turned out no worse than the pies - round, pretty, rosy. The grandmother put them on the table so that the grandchildren would come and get into the fairy tale. After all, how does it happen in life? While the children are being raised, they are working, and when the grandchildren come, there is less and less work, but more love. And love is always a fairy tale. The buns lie in a row, sweat, cool down and look at each other. Right, left - all as one. Exactly twins - round, with a crust on top and a crumb inside, the barrels are toasted, the glossy cheeks glisten from the eggs. They look at their neighbors and see themselves in everyone. They are happy that they were successful and that they have a lot of relatives. They are having fun, they started a game “Find ten differences”. Although, however, not everyone is happy. One enfant terrible was found. Probably the one that grandma took out of the oven last and her granddaughter remembered about her youngest. This is how you get distracted for a minute, think about something, and your thoughts jump and jump and do miracles. One merry grandfather sang about this: “my thoughts are my horses.” And this last one, after he had sweated a lot and then cooled down mentally, began to think: “Why is it that I am like everyone else?!” I don’t want to be a kolobok and waste my life like a kolobok! I want to live interestingly, with meaning! Maybe there are at least some differences in me from my relatives? But no, I’ll attach them to myself, even if it’s on the side of the bake. Still better than being like everyone else. I’ll wander around the world, look at others, look for myself, gain some sense of reason. The bun jumped off the table onto a stool. From the stool, onto the rug, from the rug he rolled towards the exit, kicked the door and rolled out into the front door. It was the first floor, a ramp had recently been added and there were no obstacles to escape. The bun was rolling, there was a goal, but there were many roads. It was a bit difficult at first. He’ll turn right, and there’ll be a dead end, he’ll jump into an alley, and then... it’s generally unpleasant there, or he’ll foolishly roll out onto the avenue. As soon as he got to the avenue for the first time, he immediately realized that this wasn’t the place for him. The people are walking in a crowd, not looking at their feet, their faces are gloomy, preoccupied - they have no time for making buns. From work, to work, and don’t forget the sausages for dinner. They’ll step on you, crush you, shake off your shoe, scrape your sole on the asphalt and move on, not even batting an eyelid that they’ve trampled on someone’s soul. Why should he rush, to be like everyone else, you will never be late. He rolls and rolls, nothing happens to him, he has become bored, and he is already tired. Our self-seeker became sad, but suddenly his nostrils twitched, the crust on the top of his head began to move, his cheeks blushed from the pleasant smell. The family got a whiff of it. At the smell, the bun sped up and rolled into the generous Bakery. And therethe hostess is a girl - rich, plump, dotted with freckles. Our little bun was dumbfounded, tripped over the threshold, hit his forehead on the floor, and the girl laughed. What's there to make fun of? The gingerbread man has never seen such beauty and splendor in his life. As soon as I opened my eyes, I only knew my grandmother. So he screwed up, the young man. The funny owner, smiling, asks him: “Who are you and why did you come to our shop?” Kolobok did not confess and lied: “I am a little ball of dough, I walk around the world looking for myself.” I don’t know myself yet, I don’t know who I am and why I am? - Wow, what a smart guy! Well, wander along the shelves, take a closer look, sniff, maybe you’ll find relatives, maybe someone will recognize you and tell you who you are and why you are there. The bun jumped behind the counter, and there the wicker baskets were bursting with baked goods. In them, on starchy linen napkins, delicate and frivolous buns, intricately twisted buns, sugar bagels, cheesecakes, wicker challahs are laid out in piles... Then - of different sizes, as if swaddled babies, loaves and bars are laid out in a row. Next to them are serious and responsible bread bricks in tight rows, pressed shoulder to shoulder. Our bun looks at them and his mood worsens, his optimism melts. He doesn’t look and doesn’t want to look like a serious gray loaf of bread, he doesn’t want to curl up into an eared bun at all, and he’s not ready to fly himself into a braid. - No, that’s not my thing. They are all good, but not for me. I would only ask for sesame seeds from the chalochka. I’ll sprinkle myself with them in memory of the freckled girl, so that I can live sunny and joyful. With that, our little bun rolled out of the Bakery. He walks and wanders, using his finger to check if the grains are falling off and if they’re holding on tightly. While he was working on his beauty, bam, he hit his forehead on a stall. I looked, and this is the cheerful pancake Teremok. The student looked out the window, winked and asked: “Are you banging your forehead against the walls, are you looking for a job or are you sad?” “No, I’m not looking for a job yet, I’m looking for myself?” “So to find yourself, you have to work, handsome chubby,” the student giggled. Come on, mockingbird, tell me better, why does it smell so nice here? “Ahhh, pancakes,” the student drawled tenderly and continued tenderly - with chicken, with ham, with mushrooms, with strawberries... He was so dreamy from the pancake spirit, because it was only the second day I worked. He was still in a state of enchantment. The bun succumbed to his intoxicating voice and asked to sit in Teremka, look at the pancakes, and try on their roundness and richness. He sat, watched, sweated from the huge frying pans, was saturated with the smell of butter, and tasted the richness of the pancake. I laughed so hard at the student jokes that the scab on my forehead almost cracked. I decided to kindly and healthily get out of this Teremok as soon as possible - this is not his relatives, not his soul. In memory of the good-natured student, he nevertheless grabbed a small pancake for himself, put it on the top of his head, stuck a fungus on it, shook his head so that the pancake would slide to the side - it turned out to be a great beret. And our bun rolled on - fashionable and elegant - in a beret with a pumpkin. Rolls, thinks about what he saw, what he learned, what he understood... -Interesting life all around - it seems everything is from the same dough - flour, water, a little salt, a little sugar, a little different content, but what a variety of species! He straightened the beret, I checked my freckles and thought about myself again. Where can you get away from yourself while there is nonsense in your head? And unfortunately, the kolobok is all head. Our traveler, seeker and thinker got tired and sat down on the step to rest. I just set myself up, and lo and behold, there’s a huge display window opposite, and behind it people are sitting so beautifully at tables, their little fingers sticking out, drinking coffee and having conversations. That’s where I’ll find meaning - I’ll go and listen to what they’re talking about in such beauty. But I didn’t know the bun. , that it was the temptress Confectionery, and they were not talking about meanings, but more and more about love, about friendship, about different fantasies. But that was no longer important. When I saw the bun in the display case with cakes, I fell into a stupor of amazement. My eyes widened and my head filled with aromas of coffee, cream, caramel, fruit,He became so confused that he would have fallen backwards if he had not been a kolobok. The kolobok’s eyelids began to slowly close from languor, his beret slipped onto his forehead, and the sesame seeds began to fall off. Oh, and it was hard for our hero to pull himself together. But he gathered his courage, spread himself out in all directions and began to carefully examine what was showing off inside the display case. And there... the most delicate tiramisu, Napoleon with a million crispy flour petals and custard cream, bizet, melting with a kiss on the lips, baskets with berries, nuts and pralines - Little Red Riding Hood herself would be jealous of her boring rice cakes. And then - rum women, languidly flowing with sweetness and tenderness, a pastel green pistachio miracle of unknown origin, strawberries divinely walking on whipped cream, like Aphrodite on sea foam... The bun was confused. I was stunned by such beauty and heavenly aromas. He stands, chokes on saliva and thinks dreamily: “I wish I could become all this luxury and feast!” I want Napoleon, and bizet, and all the baskets at once or one by one, and even baba. I finally found my meaning and interest! He seemed to have found meaning, but peace and joy did not come to his endless head. He rolled into a corner, rested his forehead against the wall, took a breath, came to his senses little by little. And had a conversation with himself talks: “Oh, what kind of obsession happened to me!” And it’s ready to roll into a million petals, and turn into a kiss, and even if it’s rum, it almost turns into a woman! Fir-trees, he has completely lost his head! The wretched man is sad, he sways from side to side like a tumbler, he is amazed at how greedy he turned out to be for intricate beauty and unknown aromas. “I didn’t want to braid my hair just now, I didn’t succumb to the eared bun, I didn’t flatten myself into a pancake, but here I just lost myself, I almost sold my soul for the sweet life.” There were no brains or will left, only feelings. I went, washed my face with cold water, cooled off my ardor, inhaled deeply the smell of French vanilla to absorb for the rest of my life, and rolled out of the heavenly hell into the air, into freedom. The bun is worth living He thinks about his own, remembers his grandmother’s house and his twin brothers. My soul felt so joyful, either from these memories, or from the sun jumping across the sesame freckles. The seeker of meaning and an interesting life smiles all over, thinking about where else to visit. I decided to take a ride to the children's park, to see the donuts. I sat down on a bench and decided that I needed to gather my thoughts first, so that such an incident as in the Confectionery would not happen to him again. He is also a seductive and charming person, where you think about one, you immediately find yourself with five. Then a grandmother and her granddaughter sat down on a bench next to him. The baby is apparently capricious, and the grandmother is weak in character. One is screaming, the other is already moaning. “Ahhhh, I don’t want it, I won’t!” “Well, please, just a piece.” Just a small piece, that’s all. Well, Annushka, I beg you very much. What will mom tell us?_-No, I don’t want to, I won’t, don’t ask, leave me alone! Grandmother tries to feed her granddaughter a cheese sandwich, but she can’t stand them. She likes it with sausage, but mom doesn’t allow it with sausage, and grandmother and granddaughter are fighting. “Annushka, don’t you want to eat it at all?” “I want to, but I don’t want it with cheese!” “Mom doesn’t say so with sausage.” “Then I’ll be hungry and I’ll get a stomach ache. - So we won’t be returning home soon. - That’s good, I’ll have time to get sick to spite you. So they bickered to no avail. The bun listened to all this nonsense, he felt sorry for his grandmother - he remembered his grandmother again, he became sad. Annushka also understands that it’s hard to want what you don’t love. He thought carefully, weighed everything, remembered his native home, his ruddy brothers, his long and instructive journey, took a deep breath of free air and... made up his mind. “Annushka, do you want to eat me?” I'm Kolobok! Look carefully at me - do you recognize? - Oh, Kolobok! Grandma, he’s Kolobok from our book, only in a hat and with hemp, and for some reason he smells like cakes.” “And really Kolobok,” the grandmother confirmed, adjusting her glasses on her nose. The girl extended her hands to him, Kolobok.