– It is he who is interested in what planet he lives on, it would be necessary to fly there on vacation, and why is his work called fiction? he said, and after yawning once, a table of food appeared in front of him.

On thefar shelf was a single paper book with a blue planet painted on the cover, with patches of gray in some places. It was left to him by his grandfather, who said that he was one of several people who were able to fly away from it.

It was early morning when I found myself between the clouds of clouds. I managed to take off, even though I planned to do it after lunch, as soon as I had lunch.

The flight lasted long enough that I was very hungry, and my eyes were quite sad, I was constantly thinking about food instead of enjoying the beauty of nature from above, and most importantly – the fact that I managed to make a flying house, which took me five years to build.

I decided to go back to earth, to the place from which I took off, and I came back.

When I stepped on the ground, I noticed a lot of people approaching my house.

I had to drive them away for a long time and even guard my house when it was already night. Towards morning, I dozed off and was woken up by a small noise coming from a lonely old man outside my house.

This man, as it turned out, came up in the early morning and tapped the wings of the house with a cane, after which they melted and flowed down. A foreign object disturbed the quantum equilibrium of the plasma wing. I didn't have time to write down the composition of the metal in the plasma state in a hurry, because I had tried many components before and didn't want to waste time on it. I added a pinch of one substance or another.

I didn't manage to restore the exact composition of the wing for the house even after a few years, receiving new compositions every day. I couldn't use the other wing for spectral analysis, or rather, I tried, but I also broke it by accidentally touching it. And after тогоit melted completely and flowed to the ground, often substances, freed from quantum bonds, volatilized.

In one day, I stopped all attempts to restore the physical and chemical composition of the flying wing and switched to repairing the roof of the same house.

In a remote forest, hidden from human eyes, lived a dog named Baron. Once it had owners, but when they were gone, it went into the forest, thinking to find its relatives. He was unusual in that he could talk. No, not just bark or howl, but in real words and phrases.

Baron grew up among other dogs, but always remained lonely because of his way of communicating. Other dogs were afraid of him, not knowing how to react to such an unusual creature. The Baron himself felt like an outcast.

One day, fate led him to meet a young boy named Tim, who lived with his parents on the edge of the forest. When Tim saw the Baron, he realized that he had never seen such a dog before.

Baron and Tim became best friends. Tim taught the dog to speak in other words, and the Baron helped Tim learn the secrets of the dog language. They spent days and nights together, their friendship growing stronger by the moment. The Baron became more cheerful.

In the next vacation, they managed to go on vacation with the dog to another country. Only animals that didn't know the "sit"command were allowed on planes.

The Baron understood when people understood him and always greeted him with loud squeals, he was used to it. One morning, he ran off into the woods for a walk while his new owners were sleeping in the bungalow in the morning. Despite the good care and delicious food from his new friends, he didn't have enough communication with his own people, even though they still didn't want to accept him into their team.

Running to the edge of the palm trees, he saw people who were not so dressed as in the city where he lived.

He asked the people in strange clothes where the local dogs lived, but no one even looked at him, only the people looked around among themselves, did not even pay attention to the dog, and then continued to plan the boat out of a large tree trunk.

"They don't want to talk to me," the Baron thought, and walked slowly back to the bungalow, where his young friend Tim and his parents were wandering around shouting as they approached.

– B-a-a-a-r-o-o-o-n!