The Miraculous concoction. Chapter 2

THE MIRACULOUS CONCOCTION

On the following morning Cardan woke up with a severe headache. "Once again that torturing hangover," he thought plaintively. "The pain won't go away till the next day unless you deal with it now. In order to alleviate it you need to get some booze. You should always be on the move. Get up and go look for another "victim"," the solution, worked out over the years, reverberated in his head like an echo in the cave. He splashed some cold water onto his face, patted the drops of it with a towel and looked at himself in the dusty, cracked mirror. He eyed his fractured, sour reflection. It was craving for some sort of invigoration. Drinking ravenously a cup of cold water, he flung a worn-out jacket over his shoulder, like David his sling when he was challenging Goliath, and went out and about to face the world.

His future victim, a driver called Chika, was delivering grain from the farm field to the grain facilities. It was lunchtime and he, on his way home to have a snack, asked the colleague drivers where they signed the driver's vouchers. "Over there, at the bench," one of them said casually and nodded to the other side of the road where an old man was sitting.

Chika ran to the place indicated while the drivers, hardly suppressing their laughter, expected his reaction. With an angry expression on his face and non-stop complaining Chika returned to the drivers. "What do you mean... he signs the vouchers, he`s looking after the turkeys and doesn`t sign any vouchers," he continued to grumble. And then a barely restrained avalanche of laughter came upon him; some of the drivers even rolled on the ground holding on to their bellies.

One day a cruel joke was played on him, which led to a chain reaction of ridicule. A circus came to the village; and it was written in the poster that a funny monkey called Chika would perform. However, some local man with a good sense of humor replaced the photo of the monkey with an image of the driver, who after the circus left the village was nicknamed Chika. Since then his friends had always been waiting for a moment to poke fun at him.

Waving away the driver's laughter, angry Chika went home to take a bite. When he got home he said hello to his father, who came over from the neighboring village. Everyone called him Boss there. He arranged a repair of a barn for keeping hay, hiring two handymen for help. Chika was able to do just some petty chores about his household. He was not cut out for this sort of thing. From the first days of his married life his father helped him with everything he asked for: he assisted him with repairs, planted vegetables, harvested potatoes and delivered hay for the cattle. In addition to his own household, he also took care of his son's chores. A few years before Chika got married, Boss had decided to make a real man out of him and had sent him to work to the north of the country. "Go," he said threateningly to him, "you will see life, you will gain experience, you will grow wiser. There they will beat out that clumsiness of yours quickly out of you! Besides, you will have an opportunity to earn some money."

Chika went to Murmansk. He worked at the port on a forklift. It so happened that he could not cope with the steering of the "freaky clunker" and fell into the ocean from the quay together with the forklift.
"Hey, boy, you`d better go home, we have plenty of our own workers like you," his formidable chief fired him at last.

And then, a month later, Boss contemplated his "prodigal son" again. After that he realized that he would have to help his awkward offspring till the end of his days.

Chika's wife laid the table for lunch. Boss flavored each dish with red pepper.
“Did you ask the guys if they like food with pepper or don`t? Do you think if you enjoy a spicy meal, so does everyone?” All of a sudden Chika lost his temper and flashed with indignation like a peel of thunder.
“There you go again, wimp!” Boss responded back with one of his volcanic outbursts and waved Chika away with hand.
“Help yourself!” angry Chika retorted with the same gesture. All hell broke loose: a family squabble flared up. The handymen rushed to calm down the brawlers.
“I couldn`t care less about what you`re going to do here! I`m going back to work.” the furious son headed for the door.
“You'd better get rid of the Colorado beetles on the potato plot. Just take a look at it, almost all the potato tops have been destroyed,” Chika received a sharp reproach into his back, like a stab of a knife, from his father.
"I know what to do with it without your advice! You're preaching to the choir!" retorted Chika.

Arriving at the farm garage, he met Peter the First. Instantly comes to mind the image of the Russian Tsar; but not in his honor Petya received such a bombastic nickname. There were two more Peters in the garage. Peter the First always turned up for work the earliest of them. Exactly for this reason he was awarded this pompous nickname from his colleagues.

Chika's agricultural capabilities were hanging in the balance. He was in a precarious situation. Something had to be done about it to neutralize the threat.
"If I don`t deal with it urgently, I would be a laughing stock for my father again," he thought demurely.
“And what should I do to those potato beetles?” he began complaining aloud. “Soon all the potato tops will be devoured. I seem to have done everything I could. I poisoned them, and choked them, and crushed them - nothing helps.”
“You should do as I have done to them in my garden. I've hit out their teeth with a hammer,” suggested Peter the First.
“Are you crazy? How can you hit out their teeth with a hammer unless you smash their heads with it?!”

Chika's indignation reached the limit. He hurried into the building to find someone and complain about the brainlessness of Peter the First.

“Guess what,” he said to Pirate, who limped on one leg and resembled the famous Captain Flint. For this reason he got his nickname. “Peter the First says that he`s hit out the teeth of the potato beetles with a hammer in his garden. How can he hit out their teeth with a hammer unless he smashes their heads with it?!”

“So what? I've also done the same,” Pirate played along.
“And you too! Are you crazy just like him? Don`t you understand anything? How can you hit their teeth out with a hammer unless you smash their heads with it?!”

“Oh, some people can be extremely dumb," Chika thought. He was swept outside on a way of righteous indignation, angry with his colleagues. The idea of hammering out the beetle's teeth was so unlikely, so incongruous, that it made him laugh out loud. While he was walking to his truck, he bumped into Cardan, who was coming towards him.

“Can you imagine, Cardan? I've just talked with Peter the First and Pirate and they say that they've hit out the teeth of the potato beetles with a hammer in their gardens. How can they hit out their teeth with a hammer unless they smash their heads with it?! I can't stand such silliness!”

Cardan realized that the mountain came to Muhammad.
“I think it's highly unlikely. Potato beetles` teeth are too small to be beaten out with a hammer. I`ve never known that someone has done it before. They probably crashed the beetles` heads with a hammer and lied to you that they beat out their teeth with it. Given the number of beetles on your potato plot, it will take you a lot of time to do that, anyway. Do not listen to anyone. One should insecticide his potato plot with his own concoction.”
Chika breathed a sigh of relief.
“Finally, I met a normal man. At least you aren't such a brainless one like them,” he said delightedly.
“Tell me, have I ever deceived you? You know, I can make an idiot out of anyone but you."
"I think I'll pick them up by hand and crush them on the road."
"That's the worst thing you could do. Just sweep this idea under the rug. I'll give you one popular remedy, which is environmentally friendly and doesn`t require any expenses."

Chika looked at Cardan as if he was some sort of miracle, as if he could hardly believe that he was real.
"Will you give me the recipe?"
"Not unless you pay me for it. If you give me a bottle of vodka, I'll share it with you in return.
“Yes, sure! I've got a pint of moonshine in the truck. I have earned it today. I wanted to share it with those empty-headed ones but thought better of it. You know, I don`t like dumb people." A self-satisfied smirk in the corner of his mouth was unmistakable. "So, what is the remedy?”
“Let's go to your truck. First, you'll give me the bottle, and then I'll tell you how to make the miraculous concoction.”
“You won't deceive me, will you?”
“Never. I've totally cleared my garden of the beetles. Come to my potato plot and take a glance at the potato tops, you'll see it for yourself.”

Chika opened a truck door and pulled the bottle of alcohol out of the glove compartment.
“So, what's the remedy?”
“Give me that bottle, you miser! What are you afraid of?!” Cardan grabbed the booze and almost tore it away from Chika together with his hands. “Listen, put a bucket in your garden and go pee into it by the whole family. When the bucket is full with urine, fill up a sprayer with it and spray it on the beetles.”

A pang of doubt crept into Chika's mind.
“I hardly think that's likely. Everyone would do that if it was so easy. What's the catch?"
"Give it a shot and you'll make sure that your potato plot will really have taken up a notch. You'll be grateful to me. We`ll certainly have a drink together some time later. I assure you that you will never forget my kindness as long as you live.”
"You know, when someone cheats me, I become an animal. This is how I'm made."
"I know, I know, I do know you well. Maybe better than anyone else in the village. Do you think I'm dumb enough to play games with you?"
"I guess you`re not. I believe that you`re not silly enough to play games with me."

Eventually, Chika succumbed to Cardan's arguments. To each their own: Cardan cured a hangover, and Chika found a cheap and effective remedy for the Colorado beetles. It seemed to him like the most wonderful piece of luck. And it all was surely working out for the best. Excitement bubbled in his veins. He felt like all his Christmases were coming at once. "Now, you, Boss, you'll dance for me ... I'll prove it to you that you've underestimated me ... Why should I go to the toilet and waste such a miraculous concoction? .. Oh, Boss, I'll teach you how to take care of the garden... You`ll see what a wimp I am," he reiterated comforting thoughts in his mind.

When he got home in the evening, he told his wife about the miraculous concoction. "Honey, if we solved the problem of dealing with the Colorado beetles, that would be a miracle. That would be a fulfillment of a lifelong dream."
His wife paid close attention to it and had all sorts of profound thoughts about what it meant.
"I think this is too good to be true. Still, it's worth a try."
Although his wife was a little doubtful, she couldn't help but give it a go. So they collected urine and sprayed the potato plot with it until the bug razed the crop to the ground. Chika finally realized that Cardan appeared to have pulled a fast one on him. It all triggered some desperate thoughts that started running through his head, "Is my sanity still intact? How have I dug myself such a big hole? How do I get out of it? Oh, my goodness!" Now that merciful Chika, the one who could not say boo to a goose, and who could forgive others easily was gone. Suddenly he turned from a naive baby that Cardan took a candy from into a ruthless beast that could tear to pieces anyone, who would dare to mess with him again. Overwhelmed with anger and annoyance, he clenched his teeth like a madman and squeezed out: "Oh, bastard! I'll get even with you some day!"