B is for Bobinsky – seemingly nice
Until you discover his circus of mice.
-----------------------------
Sergi Alexander Bobinsky wasn't as old as many people thought he was – he was a measly fifty-six years old. And yet, most people who met him were amazed by his gymnastics and athleticism. Oh, come on, he wasn't that bad, was he? So he was a little bluish in the skin and he wore unsanitary clothes (at least, they were unsanitary in this era). That didn't mean to say he was an old and helpless man, right? Right?
He walked into his apartment and watched as the jumping mice scattered about to their places. Some went to pick up the tiny brass trombones, others the miniature cymbals and drum sets. Then they began to play "oompah oompah" and "toodle toodle" and a thousand more tunes.
"I wonder," the acrobat said to himself, aloud, "if there were another me, how he would be like? What do my moushkas think?" he asked, perplexed, leaning down to examine each mouse's huge, doe brown eyes. Then he leaned back, smiling like the dickens had just disappeared.
"Bah! Not as good as me!" he snorted, jabbing his left index finger to his chest. "For I am the Amazing Bobinsky! I have survived war and ze Chernobyl disaster! I have come through thick and thin to rest here! And here I will stay for another twenty years, because no old Granny lady can kick me out! I have been here for ten years! TEN!"
The mice started squeaking at this outburst, rather disgruntled and irritated; they even stopped their band playing. Mr. Bobinsky looked back at them again, his expression softening. "Sorry. Mr. B get a little … excited sometimes, you know?"
He proceeded to walk out the door to his apartment, and a loud yell was heard. The mice "tsked tsked" and put down their instruments, as Russian profanity was hoyed (thrown) out of their leader's mouth.
Probably because Wybie was uprooting all of the beets, and he had run away as soon as the Russian had started screaming at him, and throwing beetroot...