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Супер «Б» з «фрикадельками»
До збірки творів Всеволода Нестайка увійшли повісті «Одиниця з обманом» і «П'ятірка з хвостиком» у новій авторській редакції, а також повість «Супер «Б» з «фрикадельками». У цих творах вирує шкільне життя з його радощами і прикрощами, веселими і сумними подіями. Письменник з великою любов'ю ставиться до своїх героїв, яким притаманні найкращі людські якості: щирість і відданість, здатність до співчуття і самопожертви, готовність прийти на допомогу і вміння дружити.
Одиниця з обманом
П'ятірка з хвостиком
Супер «Б» з «фрикадельками»
Одиниця з обманом
П'ятірка з хвостиком
Супер «Б» з «фрикадельками»
- GenresFiction
288 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2010
1 person is currently reading
20 people want to read
About the author
Vsevolod Nestaiko
55 books52 followersVsevolod Zinoviiovych Nestaiko or Nestayko (Ukrainian: Всеволод Нестайко) is considered Ukraine's best-known and best loved children's literature writer. He wrote and published stories, fairy tales, novels and plays over many years, and his books have been translated into twenty languages around the world, including English, German, French, Spanish, Russian, Arabic, Bengali, Hungarian, Romanian, Bulgarian, and Slovak. Nestayko's works are included in school curricula in Ukraine.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
September 23, 2022
Насичені гуманізмом і любов'ю до дітей оповіді про школярів. Поставила найвищу оцінку саме за те, з якою любов'ю автор ставиться до своїх персонажів. А також за години радості, які ця повість мені приносила в дитинстві. І моїй дитині теж.
August 6, 2017
"(Spasokukotsky and Kukuevytsky)
Both are small, round-faced, lop-eared, and snub-nosed. The one who’s got a brown birthmark on his nose is Spasokukotsky.
The other with the jabbed tooth is Kukuevytsky.
The first is called Lesyk.
The second, Stasyk.
Spasokukotsky loves Puppy candy more than anything in the world.
Kukuevytsky, though, loves Little Squirrel candy more than anything in the world.
If these candles are not available, however, they’ll nibble any other kind they can lay their hands ‘on, even if it be hard sugared nut bars, so hard you couldn’t break them against a sidewalk.
As a matter of history, Lina Mytrofanivna had the boys sit at the first desk right in front of her table from their first day of school, because they were the shortest in the class.
That’s how their fates intertwined.
My, oh my! There’s no escaping from fate... When you’re a full seven years old and they give you five and a half or six years at most in a ‘streetcar or trolleybus, how much it makes you suffer, oh how much you want to grow a little bit taller, even if it’s only a centimeter. How much you want to be like that Ihor Dmytrukha who sits at the last desk and peppers the blackboard with chewed paper balls he shoots from a glass tube!
Spasokukotsky kept glancing at Kukuevytsky and thinking:
Seems he’s a bit shorter than I... Look how he leans on his elbows and cranes his neck. Sure, he’s shorter. An altogether squirt. And he’s probably thinking I’m a squirt. A wet rag who can be walked over. No, I won’t have him think that! I won’t have it!
During the long recess, as they stood at the Window in the corridor, crunching nut bars and watching the boys from the senior grades clambering up a rope on the sports ground in the schoolyard, Spasokukotsky smacked his lips and said:
“We were at a dacha in the country this summer. I climbed a terribly huge tree. Right to the top to a kite’s nest up there. It had some nestlings in it. Beaky birds, you know. But I didn’t take any. What did I need them for? Besides, the kite might have pecked my eyes out, and that’s the last thing I wanted. I only took a look, touched them with my finger, and climbed down.”
Kukuevytsky’s eyes blinked, and the nut bar got stuck in his throat. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t; he just kept bleating like a kid: “Me-ee-h!”
At this point the bell went off, and they had to go back into the classroom.
Spasokukotsky was jubilant: Aha! Got it? That’s so you know who you have to deal with, you squirt!
But during the next recess, Kukuevytsky blinked his bushy eyebrows, blushed, and said quietly:
“And. . . Once I went to the Dnieper to watch the men ice fishing. The ice was only along the shore, and farther out there was open water. The piece of ice I was standing on broke away and floated, off. Everyone started hollering, but I didn’t get scared. I just shouted: ‘Hey, save me and hurry, because I’ve still got to go to the grocery and buy some cream!’ A motor launch was sent after me, and they picked me off below Kyiv near Zhukiv Island. But I still bought the cream.”
Spasokukotsky gave a grunt and his face grew red. Then he braced himself and said:
“And I... I had.. . I had to put out a real fire. Aha! At the dacha. A pile of straw caught fire near the cowshed. I didn’t lose my head, though; grabbed a pail of slops and... If it hadn’t been for me, the cowshed and the house and everything else would have burned to the ground.. .”
“And I. . .” Kukuevytsky said, modestly dropping his eyes, “I was left at home all by myself, when suddenly a robber rang the door bell. A real robber, mind you. ‘Open up!’ he says. I'm from Kiev Gas Service!’ I froze with fright and said, ‘No, I wont open up! Every robber in town says he's from Kiev Gas Service, and once he's in, he kills and plunders. So get lost, or I’ll take my father's shotgun and fire through the keyhole.`And he says: ‘You little jackass!’ And I says: ‘It takes one to know one!’ So he got scared and went away.”
Spasokukotsky heaved a sigh, and said on the verge of tears:
“And I... I was run over by a bike once... And once I swallowed my mother’s watch, wristband and all...”
Spasokukotsky’s mood was utterly spoiled by now.
During the lessons he flicked sullen looks at Kukuevytsky, and thought: Was that squirt telling me the truth or not? Did he really drift on an ice floe and tell that robber off? Everything I said was just plain baloney—about the baby kites and the fire...
Actually, it was he who almost burned the cowshed to the ground. He was playing with matches, and the straw caught fire. He got scared and started squealing like a piglet. His mother came running, grabbed the pail of slops, and put out the fire, after which she gave him a good whack so he plowed into the puddle nose first.
Spasokukotsky’s eyes gouged into Kukuevytsky, as he tried to guess whether he was telling the truth or not. But Kukuevytsky looked at him with clear and innocent eyes that didn’t betray a thing.
Spasokukotsky decided not to give up. (...)"
(Translated by Anatole Bilenko)
Both are small, round-faced, lop-eared, and snub-nosed. The one who’s got a brown birthmark on his nose is Spasokukotsky.
The other with the jabbed tooth is Kukuevytsky.
The first is called Lesyk.
The second, Stasyk.
Spasokukotsky loves Puppy candy more than anything in the world.
Kukuevytsky, though, loves Little Squirrel candy more than anything in the world.
If these candles are not available, however, they’ll nibble any other kind they can lay their hands ‘on, even if it be hard sugared nut bars, so hard you couldn’t break them against a sidewalk.
As a matter of history, Lina Mytrofanivna had the boys sit at the first desk right in front of her table from their first day of school, because they were the shortest in the class.
That’s how their fates intertwined.
My, oh my! There’s no escaping from fate... When you’re a full seven years old and they give you five and a half or six years at most in a ‘streetcar or trolleybus, how much it makes you suffer, oh how much you want to grow a little bit taller, even if it’s only a centimeter. How much you want to be like that Ihor Dmytrukha who sits at the last desk and peppers the blackboard with chewed paper balls he shoots from a glass tube!
Spasokukotsky kept glancing at Kukuevytsky and thinking:
Seems he’s a bit shorter than I... Look how he leans on his elbows and cranes his neck. Sure, he’s shorter. An altogether squirt. And he’s probably thinking I’m a squirt. A wet rag who can be walked over. No, I won’t have him think that! I won’t have it!
During the long recess, as they stood at the Window in the corridor, crunching nut bars and watching the boys from the senior grades clambering up a rope on the sports ground in the schoolyard, Spasokukotsky smacked his lips and said:
“We were at a dacha in the country this summer. I climbed a terribly huge tree. Right to the top to a kite’s nest up there. It had some nestlings in it. Beaky birds, you know. But I didn’t take any. What did I need them for? Besides, the kite might have pecked my eyes out, and that’s the last thing I wanted. I only took a look, touched them with my finger, and climbed down.”
Kukuevytsky’s eyes blinked, and the nut bar got stuck in his throat. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t; he just kept bleating like a kid: “Me-ee-h!”
At this point the bell went off, and they had to go back into the classroom.
Spasokukotsky was jubilant: Aha! Got it? That’s so you know who you have to deal with, you squirt!
But during the next recess, Kukuevytsky blinked his bushy eyebrows, blushed, and said quietly:
“And. . . Once I went to the Dnieper to watch the men ice fishing. The ice was only along the shore, and farther out there was open water. The piece of ice I was standing on broke away and floated, off. Everyone started hollering, but I didn’t get scared. I just shouted: ‘Hey, save me and hurry, because I’ve still got to go to the grocery and buy some cream!’ A motor launch was sent after me, and they picked me off below Kyiv near Zhukiv Island. But I still bought the cream.”
Spasokukotsky gave a grunt and his face grew red. Then he braced himself and said:
“And I... I had.. . I had to put out a real fire. Aha! At the dacha. A pile of straw caught fire near the cowshed. I didn’t lose my head, though; grabbed a pail of slops and... If it hadn’t been for me, the cowshed and the house and everything else would have burned to the ground.. .”
“And I. . .” Kukuevytsky said, modestly dropping his eyes, “I was left at home all by myself, when suddenly a robber rang the door bell. A real robber, mind you. ‘Open up!’ he says. I'm from Kiev Gas Service!’ I froze with fright and said, ‘No, I wont open up! Every robber in town says he's from Kiev Gas Service, and once he's in, he kills and plunders. So get lost, or I’ll take my father's shotgun and fire through the keyhole.`And he says: ‘You little jackass!’ And I says: ‘It takes one to know one!’ So he got scared and went away.”
Spasokukotsky heaved a sigh, and said on the verge of tears:
“And I... I was run over by a bike once... And once I swallowed my mother’s watch, wristband and all...”
Spasokukotsky’s mood was utterly spoiled by now.
During the lessons he flicked sullen looks at Kukuevytsky, and thought: Was that squirt telling me the truth or not? Did he really drift on an ice floe and tell that robber off? Everything I said was just plain baloney—about the baby kites and the fire...
Actually, it was he who almost burned the cowshed to the ground. He was playing with matches, and the straw caught fire. He got scared and started squealing like a piglet. His mother came running, grabbed the pail of slops, and put out the fire, after which she gave him a good whack so he plowed into the puddle nose first.
Spasokukotsky’s eyes gouged into Kukuevytsky, as he tried to guess whether he was telling the truth or not. But Kukuevytsky looked at him with clear and innocent eyes that didn’t betray a thing.
Spasokukotsky decided not to give up. (...)"
(Translated by Anatole Bilenko)
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