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+ (copii abandonafli. pærinfli în abandon)de englezæ la Casa Pionierilor. Casa Pionierilor era lîngæ un drum mare, mare,într-o grædinæ. Pe drum, maøinile mergeau pe patru rînduri. Casa Pionierilorera Casa Pionierilor pentru cæ povestea se întîmpla demult, cînd în flaranoastræ încæ era comunism. Comunismul înseamnæ, dragi copii, cæ era unom ræu, Ceauøescu, care dædea ordine tuturor, chiar øi pærinflilor copiilor.Mamele øi taflii erau cu toflii servitorii lui. Copiii erau øi ei servitorii lui. Deasta se numeau pionieri. Fetifla de øapte ani era øi ea pionier. Mergea la CasaPionierilor la ore de englezæ. Dar asta am spus deja. Ei bine, Casa Pionierilorera departe, iar fetifla de øapte ani era dusæ la orele de englezæ de pærinfliiei øi tot ei o aduceau øi acasæ. Era atît de departe. Pærinflii ei aveau un VWbroscuflæ gri-elefant, o duceau cu acesta. VW broscuflæ, øtifli, scoate un sunetca øi un clinchet – a, nu øtifli, nici eu nu aø fi øtiut dacæ nu mi-ar fi spus mama.Motorul scoate un sunet de parcæ ar fi un clinchet. Ora de englezæ a fetifleide øapte ani se terminase, stætea afaræ, în fafla gardului înalt de fier, pe stradamare. Strada se numea strada Lungæ, toatæ lumea îi spunea aøa, deøi nuacesta era numele scris. Ceea ce era scris era LIBERTATE, EGALITATE, FRA-TERNITATE. Dar asta e prea lung. Deci acolo stætea fetifla de øapte ani, aøteptadeja de zece minute, însæ degeaba: pærinflii nu apæruseræ cu broscufla. Eravaræ, fetifla purta øosete albe pînæ la genunchi. Øi, desigur, uniforma de pionier.Fustæ plisatæ scurtæ, cæmaøæ albæ cu buzunare øi bretele, pe bretele odungæ albastru-deschis øi una galbenæ, pentru cæ fetifla de øapte ani era primadin clasæ øi era comandant de detaøament. Iar cravata de pionier era ceamai importantæ, trebuia purtatæ pînæ øi cu uniforma de øcoalæ: o eøarfæ sinteticæroøie, cu tiv roøu, galben øi albastru øi cu un inel transparent cu carese lega în faflæ. Un bærbat trecea pe acolo øi a întrebat-o pe fetiflæ: Ce faciaici, în locul acesta uitat de lume, fetiflæ de øapte ani? Fetifla de øapte ani ræspunse:Am fost la Casa Pionierilor, la ora de englezæ øi acum îmi aøtept pærinflii,sæ mæ ducæ acasæ cu broscufla. Bærbatul ræspunse: Eøti o fetiflæ de øapte anidræguflæ, nu vrei sæ vii cu mine la Szentgyörgy, la un spælat de pizducæ? Nupot merge, pentru cæ îmi aøtept pærinflii sæ mæ ducæ acasæ. Desigur cæ bærbatulinsistæ: Îfli cumpær bomboane, chiar øi ciocolatæ øi îfli voi aræta ceva cenu ai mai væzut niciodatæ. Nu, nu se poate, zise fetifla de øapte ani. Îi erafoarte teamæ de bærbat, pentru cæ era urît, bætrîn, ca øi o vræjitoare-bærbat.Continua sæ zîmbeascæ, læsînd sæ i se vadæ cei doi dinfli. Fetifla fæcu cîfliva paøiîn spate. Bærbatul se apropie øi mai mult. Între timp continuæ sæ vorbeascæ,despre cît de frumoasæ e fetifla, despre cîte îi va cumpæra dacæ merge cuel la Szentgyörgy, la spælat de pizducæ. Aproape o apucase de brafl, cînd fetiflaauzi clinchetul broscuflei. Îøi smulse braflul din strînsoarea vræjitoarei-bærbatøi traversæ în fugæ strada. Vræjitoarea-bærbat nu putu sæ alerge dupæ ea, deoarecepe strada cu patru benzi maøinile mergeau strîns una dupæ cealaltæ,atît de strîns, încît doar o fetiflæ de øapte ani se putea strecura printre ele,o vræjitoare-bærbat nu. Desigur, vræjitoarea-bærbat se transformæ pe loc într-ofetiflæ de øapte ani øi începu sæ alerge dupæ fetifla de øapte ani printremaøini. Aproape o ajunse din urmæ, cînd broscufla gri-elefant îøi fæcu apariflia,mama fetiflei de øapte ani se ivi din maøinæ, læsæ scaunul din faflæ, iar fetifla særiîn maøinæ. Mama închise uøa chiar în nasul celeilalte fetifle de øapte ani, astfelîncît o bucatæ din nasul ei s-a øi rupt. O bucatæ de fier. Dupæ aceasta,broscufla porni la drum øi særi în înaltul cerului de parcæ ar fi zburat, særi pestecele patru rînduri de maøini, peste Casa Pionierilor, peste Monumentul SoldatuluiNecunoscut, zburæ, zburæ, plecaræ într-un loc cu totul øi cu totul diferit,unde oamenii nu erau servitori. Iar copiii nu erau pionieri. Am încælecatpe-o øa øi v-am spus povestea mea.of no use to him. Of course, he is already fourteen. We spent the afternoon athome. Dad lay reading for a while then he fell asleep. I turned to Mom’s notebooks.Invented the tale about the beetle. Once upon a time there was a littlegirl. She was a seven years old little girl. She took English lessons at thepioneer centre. The pioneer centre was in the middle of a garden, by a verywide road. Four rows of cars rolling by on that road. The pioneer centre was apioneer centre because this tale is a very old one, from the times when therewas communism in our country. Communism, dear children, means there wasan evil man, the Ceauøescu, who gave orders to everyone, even to parents.Dads and moms were all his servants. Kids were his servants, too. That’s whythey were called pioneers. The seven years old girl was also a pioneer.She took English lessons at the pioneer centre. I had already mentioned that.Well, the centre was really far, the girl’s parents took her to her English classesthere and then back home. It was so far away. Her parents had an elephant-greybeetle, a VW, they drove her with that. The VW beetle has atinkling sound, you know – of course you don’t, I wouldn’t either if my motherhadn’t had told me. Its engine growls as if it tinkled. The English class wasalready over, the seven years old girl stood by the tall iron fence in the street.Everybody called that street Long street, though that name wasn’t written onit. The sign spelt LIBERTY, EQUALITY, FRATERNITY. But this is too long. Therestood the girl, ten minutes passed or so, in vain: her parents didn’t show upwith the beetle. It was summer, the girl wore white knee-length socks.And her pioneer clothes. Pleated indigo skirt, white shirt with pockets andshoulder-strap, with a light blue and a yellow strip on it, because the girl washead of class and a group leader. Well, and the pioneer cravat – the mostimportant of all, it had to be worn even with the school uniform: a red synthetickerchief with red-yellow-and-blue trim and a transparent ring holding ittogether in front. A man came and asked the girl: What are you doing in thisout-of-the-way place, you little girl? The girl replied: I had my English class atthe pioneer centre and am waiting for my parents to pick me up with the beetle.The man said: You are a cute little girl, why don’t you come with me toSzentgyörgy, to have a pussywash? The little girl said: I cannot go,I must wait for my parents to take me home. The man still insisted: I’ll buy youcandies and chocolate and show you something you have never seen before.No, it is impossible, said the girl. She was afraid of the man, him being uglyand old, like a male witch. He kept sneering, showing his two teeth. The littlegirl drew back. The man drew closer. He went on talking about how beautifulthe little girl was and about the pile of things he would buy her if she wentwith him to Szentgyörgy, to have a pussywash. He had almost grabbed the girlby her arm when she heard the tinkling sound of the beetle. She tore herselffrom the male witch’s grip and crossed the street, running. The witch couldn’tfollow her, because cars rolled by so close to each-other on the four-rows roadthat only a seven years old girl could get through. Obviously the witch turnedinto a seven years old girl at an instant and ran after the little girl. He almostgrabbed her, when the elephant-grey beetle showed up, the girl’s mompopped out of it, she bent the back of the front seat forward and the little girlflopped in. Her mom slammed the door in the face of the other seven yearsold girl, so that a piece of her big nose got torn by it. A piece of iron. The beetlethen spread her wings and flew away above the four rows of cars, abovethe pioneer centre, above the Statue of the Unknown Soldier, it flew and itflew and they went to a completely different place where the people were notservants. And kids were not pioneers. And that was the end of it.(In Mom’s book there is a different ending though, because the story there isnot a tale but a true story about her being the seven year old girl and when125