Tanya Grotter and the Golden Leech

With each minute the voice of the garbage can became increasingly louder, increasingly more distinct. It resounded no longer just through the balcony, but also through the entire apartment of the Durnevs, even penetrating through the wall to the neighbours. There behind the wall General Cutletkin was overbearingly tapping with a pencil on the table and studying the price of used toothbrushes. Uncle Herman presented this price to him yesterday with a secret intention.

“The Indian gandharvas are considered some of the favourites of the dragonball world championship,” the brisk voice chattered. “They say, once they began as celestial musicians, playing at the feasts of ancient gods. However, after the ancient gods together with the spirits of chaos were imprisoned in the basements of Tibidox, the gandharvas remained out of work and took up dragonball professionally. It happened that they have defeated even the babai, the Invisibles, and the Bald Mountain witches. I personally am not surprised. Not without reason these half-magician half-birds spend a large part of their life in the air. They came down to earth only to harm people – so it was, in any case, until The Ancient One put prohibition on any magic interference in the life of the moronoids.

“The gandharvas need no magic objects for flight, although for some reason each holds a rounded three-stringed lute. Many suspect, though true, it has not been proven, that they use the lutes for all kinds of forbidden tricks in the field. In any case, even my granny – a fan of five-hundred years! – has never seen the gandharvas part from their lutes.

“The gandharvas are very well-fed. Few of them have less than three chins, and even the tummies are also o-ho-ho! It suggests the thought: have the gandharvas moved from nectar to beer? Short slow-moving wings grow directly from the shoulders. The feet resemble that of an eagle or a griffin. The powerful bent claws evoke respect, although, to tell the truth, the gandharvas rarely run on them. More often, they use a swift general pass in the middle zone with a subsequent breakthrough to the dragon of the opposition.

“Attention! The for-life and posthumous head of Tibidox Academician Sardanapal Chernomorov is getting up onto the judicial stand. The fans applaud. In the past month, Sardanapal has replaced the Persian magician Tistrya at the post of chief umpire. It is said, after the loss of the babai team, whom he clearly played up to, Tistrya went slightly crazy and ate his own ears. True, he soon grew new ones, but the sport board attached to the Magciety of Jerky Magtion did not revoke its decision.

“Nightingale O. Robber and the gandharvas’ trainer Kashavara walk beside Sardanapal. Kashavara feels very confident. That the chief umpire is also the head of Tibidox does not disturb him at all. Sardanapal is noted among magicians for his adherence to principles. For sure, he will be even stricter with his own team than with our Indian guests.

“And now I hurry to present to you the composite Tibidox team, if, of course, among the fans there are still those not familiar with it. Number one – Zhora Zhikin, half-back. Magic instrument – mop with a propeller. Handsome, don’t you think? Of course I’m not talking about the propeller… A good third of the female fans came to the match only just to take a look at our Zhora. Unfortunately – hee-hee! – it’s not possible to admire him for long. Zhikin usually retires in the first half-hour, since it is even more complex to control his mop than a broom. But then, if any of the opposition falls under the propeller, hungry Goyaryn will be able to refresh itself with outstanding stuffing!

“Number two – Damien Goryanov, the dark department of Tibidox. His vacuum is a Storm-100U. I must admit, it is not a bad machine with the turbine supercharger and chrome-plated pipe; however, it is far from my vacuum. Moreover, Goryanov never cleans his ears, which extremely complicates his orientation in the air…”

“YAGUN! Knock it off right now, or I…” someone began to yell in a terrible voice. Immediately after this a whistle and a deafening slap was heard.

Aunt Ninel shuddered and just in case pulled her head into her shoulders, although clearly no one was advancing on her personally.

“Just now you observed an attempt to ram the playing commentator with a Storm-100U vacuum. A pitiful, deceitful, and meaningless attempt, I hasten to add!” Bab-Yagun continued as if nothing had happened. “I, with the astuteness characteristic of me, always maintain: this powerful machine does not have sufficient manoeuvrability and it hinders disgustingly. They are carefully digging Damien out of the sand at present, and again put him back up on the vacuum. I’m certain this trivial incident will in no way affect his future play. In order to get a concussion, one must – hee-hee! – have something to shock.