toothycat | (no subject)

Original here.

Shambambukli the demiurge pulled on the latex gloves, flexed his fingers and nodded: "Let us begin!"
The man swallowed and shuddered.
"Perhaps there is some other way...?"
"I don't understant." The demiurge frowned. "Do you need a woman or not?"
"I do." The man sighed.
"If you do, then you will have to bear up. It will not take long."
"Will it hurt much?", the man asked resignedly.
"Terribly!" The demiurge confirmed the worst of his fears. "Oh, don't shake so! I will perform the operation under anaesthetic..."
The man relaxed.
"...local anaesthetic", the demiurge clarified.
The man hunched up his shoulders and reflexively covered his stomach.
"Lie down!" The demiurge was unswayable. He carefully measured out a dose of painkiller and injected the lying man's stomach.
"Oof!", the man commented.
"Bear it! Are you a man or not? Do you think it will be easier for the woman to give birth? It will hurt even more!"
The man nodded, squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the operating table tightly.
The operation was long and difficalt. The man cursed loudly, called out for a mother he had never had, swore at the demiurge, his future wife and all womankind, lamented his naivete and swore that he'd never again, not for any reason... but at that point, the operation ended.
Shambambukli the demiurge made the last stitch in the man's stomach and began to create the woman from the amputated rib. Here the man could little aid him, save by suggesting from time to time: "hair... best make it blonde... and the chest bigger... both of them, please... and here make a birthmark..."
Finally, everything was finished and Shambambukli the demiurge put the newly born creature into the man's arms.
"Congratulations! You have a woman!"
The man, shaking from the weight and the loss of blood, carried the woman, who held him trustingly, over the threshold of his new cave.

"And why did you need to go through all that?", the demiurge Mazukta, who had been watching the operation through a window, enquired.
"You mean, why the blood, the pain and the suffering?"
"Precisely. As I remember, it would have been simple for you to do everything quickly and painlessly. So why...?"
"You see...", Shambambukli said slowly, rinsing the blood from his hands, "you know how it's all meant to go, right? A man needs a woman. He asks the creator to make him one. He puts the man to sleep, and abracadabra! - and when the man is awake again, a woman is ready and led to him, and he is told: 'here, please yourself'. How will he treat her after this?"
Mazukta scratched his head and drawled: "I see..."
"There you go. And this way... perhaps he might treasure her, even a little bit?", Shambambukli said hopefully.

Original here.

The demiurge Mazukta went to visit his friend the demiurge Shambambukli.
"Hello! What news?"
"What news can there be? I'm bored..."
"Why don't you play with your humans? That usually helps."
"Oh, scratch them! They're bored too. They started playing with blocks a little while back but they even gave that up."
"Playing with blocks?"
"Yeah. Do you know that game? They take clay, form it into a block and bake it in the sun. And then from the blocks they make a tower."
"Hmm... an interesting idea. And why did they give it up?"
"They all quarrelled. Some wouldn't share their blocks, some took offence at other things. One says to lay them this way, another to lay them thus. One wants carved railings, another demands spiral stairs. In other words, they couldn't find a common tongue. Now they sit each in his own camp and won't talk to each other."

Original here.

"Kolobok, Kolobok, I'm gonna eat you up!"
"No, you won't! I'm Kolobok, made of the last of the flour, kneaded with smetana, brushed with butter, baked in an oven, cooled on a windowsill!"
"With butter, you say?"
"Yup, butter."
"With smetana?"
"Yeah. Lovely, innit? I ran away from grandmother, I ran away from grandfather, and from you, Hare, I'll run away too."
And he did. And from the Wolf, and from the Bear...
"And you, Fox, won't eat me either. I'm Kolobok, I'm Kolobok, made of the last of the flour, kneaded with smetana, brushed with butter, baked..."
"I don't care that you're brushed with butter. I'm a Muslim, your Christian Lent doesn't apply to me!"
So she grabbed Kolobok and ate him.

The standard versions of this fairy tale have Ivan's arrow landing in a marsh, Ivan marrying a frog, the frog turning out to be a cursed princess of a neighbouring kingdom, the curse broken with a kiss; alternatively, the frog leaving her frogskin each night to become a beautiful woman, possibly the daughter of the king of marshes, until one day Ivan burns the frogskin so she stays a woman all the time.

Original here.

"So, my dear children," the father said to his sons, "go out into the yard and let loose an arrow each. Where each arrow falls, there you must find your bride.
The eldest son went out, drew his bow and threw a natural twenty. He got a Boyar bride, with a huge dowry and her own dungeon.
The middle son went out. He didn't bother with a bow, but cast Magic Missile, which never fails. So he, too, ended up with a fine wife - daughter of a merchant, a good housekeeper, a flame of a girl.
The youngest son went out. And let loose three arrows at once.
"Multishot, yeah! Gonna start a harem!"

Original here.
"Good day to you, handsome warrior," a mocking voice came from behind Ivan's back. "What is it you are doing all the way out here in the marshes?"
Ivan turned around. A girl of uncommon beauty with long green hair was sitting on a log; he had walked right past her.
"Well, see, I've decided to get married, so I've come for a bride," Ivan exclaimed.
"For a bride?" The girl's eyebrows rose.
"Yup! For this one here."
Ivan pulled a large toad out of his pocket. The girl and the toad exchanged a long, thoughtful look.
"For this one, you say," the girl said slowly. "I see."
"Yup." Ivan put the toad back in his pocket. "Who are you, anyway? Not a mermaid, are you?"
"No, I am a higher rank," the girl ran her fingers through her hair. "I am the daughter of the King of the Marshes himself."
"Oh, then we are colleagues!", Ivan exclaimed happily. "My dad's a king too. He has three of us sons, you see. He told us to let loose our arrows, and wherever they fall, there to look for brides. Mine fell in this here marsh. It went further than all the others!", he added with pride.
"And your brothers?"
"The eldest shot his arrow into the boyars' yard. And the middle one into the merchants; right in their chicken coop, can you imagine?"
Ivan chortled.
"I can indeed." The girl nodded. "Let me guess, your brother married a hen as a result?"
"What for? He went with a merchant's daughter."
"And you are marrying a toad?"
"Yup, this one." Ivan took the toad out once more and stroked her slippery back gently. "Pretty, ain't she?"
The lips of the princess of the marshes shook as, holding back a sob, she slid off the log and dived under the water.