The Old Genie Hottabych

EXTRA TICKETS

On a bright and sunny summer day our friends set out to see a football game. During the soccer season the entire population of Moscow is divided into two alien camps. In the one are the football fans; in the other are those queer people who are entirely indifferent to this fascinating sport.

Long before the beginning of the game, these first stream towards the high entrance gates of the Central Stadium from all parts of the city.

They look upon those who are heading in the opposite direction with a feeling of superiority.

In turn, these other Muscovites shrug in amazement when they see hundreds of crowded buses and trolley-buses and thousands of cars crawling through the turbulent sea of pedestrian fans.

But the army of fans which appears so unified to an onlooker is actually torn into two camps. This is unnoticeable while the fans are making their way to the stadium. However, as they approach the gates, this division appears in all its ugliness. It suddenly becomes evident that some people have tickets, while others do not. The possessors of tickets pass through the gates confidently; the others dart back and forth excitedly, rushing at new arrivals with the same plaintive plea: “D’you have an extra ticket?” or “You don’t have an extra ticket, do you?”

As a rule, there are so few extra tickets and so many people in need of them, that if not for Hottabych, Volka and Zhenya would have certainly been left outside the gates.

“With the greatest of pleasure,” Hottabych murmured in reply to Volka’s request. “You’ll have as many as you need in a minute.”

No sooner were these words out of his mouth, than the boy saw him holding a whole sheaf of blue, green and yellow tickets. “Will this be enough, O wonderful Volka? If not, I’ll…” He waved the tickets. This gesture nearly cost him his life. “Look, extra tickets!” a man shouted, making a dash for him. A few seconds later no less than a hundred and fifty excited people were pressing Hottabych’s back against the concrete fence. The old man would have been as good as dead if not for Volka. He ran to a side and shouted at the top of his voice:

“Over here! Who needs an extra ticket? Who needs some extra tickets?”

At these magic words the people who had been closing in on a distraught Hottabych rushed towards Volka, but the boy darted into the crowd and disappeared. A moment later he and his two friends handed the gate-keeper three tickets and passed through the North Gate to the stadium, leaving thousands of inconsolable fans behind.