One little miser

One little miser lived on the Earth.

The center of his universe was an old shed. The miser was dragging to the shed all that came to his hands. Cracked sinks from the beach. Overdue cures from grandma’s aid kit. Crumpled letters for unknown addressees. Leaflets with the faces of intruders. And uncountable mixed boxes, bottles, jars and vials… Oh, Lord!

It was filling his life with sense, really!

He was gently stroking the subtle lace on a muddy Venetian mask. He was trying to read old, faded papers… (I should say – I don’t wait for something good from this story. I am nauseated by it… But I must finish!)

One little miser came out into the yard once. He had one very important matter which interested nobody except him. The sun was shining. The warm breeze was blowing… Suddenly his attention was seized by a little blue butterfly. Was it deliberate? No! A butterfly is a surprise always. What can be deliberate in a butterfly? But something stirred in the soul of our miser… He was watching the subtle and transparent butterfly that floated in the warm air. In that moment he realized that his life was dusty and dark like his shed. That he was only a miser. He was living stingily.

And then he threw into the rubbish bin all his riches. Cracked sinks without the noise of seas inside. Cures which could make you sick. Unsent letters and empty boxes.

Of course, you await a happy end now. Something like this… ‘He is waving with his blue wings and is flying with the flow of warm air…’ Blah-blah-blah… No! You should muffle it! I am not insane! He just became a lepidopterofilist. You can meet him at the flea market. You will notice from the crowd his butterfly net and his disgusting blue bow-tie…

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