«The Magic Cheese»

Юстасия Тарасава

The Magic Cheese

   Once upon a time there was a Cheese Boy. Actually, his name was Vovka. He was quite an ordinary boy and not made of cheese at all. He just loved it very much. Well, tastes differ, you know. So do people. There are potato, bread, egg and milk folks, as well as meat and fish ones. Needless to say, the majority belongs to chocolate, cake or ice-cream people. But Vovka was a cheese person and his friend Ljoshka – a potato one. To tell the truth, at first Ljoshka didn’t like potatoes at all, but that is another story and we won’t tell it now.

   As for Vovka, he liked cheese since he could remember himself. When Vovka became old enough to help his Mama and go out all by himself, he would do the shopping on the ground floor of their apartment building (because they had a grocery store there) almost every day. Usually he bought everything that his Mama had told him to buy – and some cheese. He knew all sorts of cheese. Not all the sorts in the world, of course, only the ones that were sold in shops. He never mixed them up. One glance was enough for him to tell whether it was Poshehonskij or Radonezhskij, Altaiskij or Lamber, Yaroslavskij or Edam, Kostromskoj or Gollandskij, Gornij or Rossijskij, Swiss cheese, brynza, Camamber or any other.

Юстасия Тарасава

The Magic Cheese

   Once upon a time there was a Cheese Boy. Actually, his name was Vovka. He was quite an ordinary boy and not made of cheese at all. He just loved it very much. Well, tastes differ, you know. So do people. There are potato, bread, egg and milk folks, as well as meat and fish ones. Needless to say, the majority belongs to chocolate, cake or ice-cream people. But Vovka was a cheese person and his friend Ljoshka – a potato one. To tell the truth, at first Ljoshka didn’t like potatoes at all, but that is another story and we won’t tell it now.

   As for Vovka, he liked cheese since he could remember himself. When Vovka became old enough to help his Mama and go out all by himself, he would do the shopping on the ground floor of their apartment building (because they had a grocery store there) almost every day. Usually he bought everything that his Mama had told him to buy – and some cheese. He knew all sorts of cheese. Not all the sorts in the world, of course, only the ones that were sold in shops. He never mixed them up. One glance was enough for him to tell whether it was Poshehonskij or Radonezhskij, Altaiskij or Lamber, Yaroslavskij or Edam, Kostromskoj or Gollandskij, Gornij or Rossijskij, Swiss cheese, brynza, Camamber or any other.