The Mysterious Island
There was a friendly Soviet family: Dad, Mom and a little girl.
Sasha (my future wife)
And they were lucky with the trials of three generations to gather a large (even by those reading times) library.
One evening, a neighbor — a mayor of the police — knocked on the door and tearfully asked for a couple of three books a week for his bullying. In school, they asked for extra-class reading.
and Dad:
What books are these?
The neighbor turned a notepad, running through his eyes:
“Yes, Tolstoy is... Pushkin, thank God, and Gogol in the hell.
This is Robinson Crusoe, The Mysterious Island.
The Last of the Mogicans and Daniel Defoe... No, Daniel Defoe, it’s from
Robinson Crusoe... How, neighbor, will you make money?
and Dad:
Yes, we have these three, I’ll bring them now. Not for a week, but for
A month, but don’t play.
The Mente:
You are insulting! We don’t know each other for the first time, I’m always responsible for my words.
an officer of the militia. In a month, or maybe even sooner, I’ll be back.
of integrity. Thank you, Wild has done it.

A week passed, the beaten neighbor returned two books and, trying not to look in the eyes, rushed to the service.
One day, the father saw a neighbor in the courtyard gathered a bunch of deadly frightened multi-caliber boys, spoke to them as murderers and threatened colony. A few mentions stood around, they quietly whispered at the boys:
“Don’t turn with the bars, but listen to what the Comrade Major tells you.”
and Dad:
Good neighbor, what happened?
Major is confused:
I welcome. Ordinary prevention...
A month has passed and the day has come when the last book has returned. Dad and mom have already started to discuss: when should it be transparent to hint to the neighbor about returning the book?
That same evening, the mayor appeared himself – solemn, sad and sober.
He cried for a long time, did not give up the tea, and then sadly said:
Sorry, I know it’s been a month now, but
It happened that my shadow, a book was wrapped in the yard. He read stupidly.
The "Mysterious Island" on the hips, then left it for a few minutes
One of them ran for ice cream and ran for ice cream. Gaddafi called
My mother came home and the book was stolen. I even found out who stole and
Who gave it, but then, through two figures, the chain broke.
But don’t worry, I’ll buy you the same.
Where would you buy it if it didn’t even exist in the library? and in
In the bookstore, it is not sold.
The Mente:
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I will return. Wear clothes and
Tomorrow I will go to the book-interpretation, there with speculators, even the Bible,
Even if you could buy shit, there would be money.

The happy neighbor returned the next day and brought a book tightly wrapped in a gray envelope paper and securely wrapped with a spade. On paper hand-made pencil inscription: “The Mysterious Island”
While the satisfied owner was struggling to unfold his newly obtained book, the major said:
These book speculators are so jokeful, although there are such babies.
You can imagine, I ask one: “How many
A mysterious island? He was frightened and pointed to another.
I asked, “Are you not from the police?” “No, I say, you went crazy, I
Myths of books do not read.
Another bearded man approached, and they didn’t talk about anything, and eventually he asked, “Are you sure you need the Mysterious Island?”
I was finally angry and the bearded realized that I could already explode, sent me to the trees, I went in, there the grandmother of God asks, "What did you want? “The Mysterious Island,” I say, “What else!? to
The grandmother says, “Twenty-five rubles and not a penny less.”
Do you imagine? I thought ten, well fifteen, but there is nowhere to go, the debt needs to be given, the fourth one, the grandmother took and said, "I will go now, and you see that cardboard box, under it and you will take."
Just like spies.
The father turned out the packaging, inside was a thick book in a hard cloth, on the root the inscription "Jules Verne. The Mysterious Island »
Here, the book took its legitimate place on the book shelf, the owner drank a drink of cognac with his neighbor, and long after midnight they said goodbye very happy to each other.
And only the next day, the father decided to polish the book, he was tormented by vague doubts, as if it was much thicker than the old one, and the conspiracy, which the major told, did not come out of his head...
I opened, and all the pages are printed on a writing machine, and also through a copier.
It turned out that The Mysterious Island is not a book by Jules Verne, but a code phrase of a narrow circle of people devoted to a dangerous mystery.
So in 1976, my wife’s parents had their own.
The Gulag archipelago.