C'est la selfie

Once upon a time there lived Ivan the Fool and his wife, Vasilisa the Beautiful, on the edge of a dense forest. And Ivan decided to digitalize this dense forest so that every forest animal could go online and take a selfie. I took the selfie stick seedlings, put them in a basket and went into the forest. He goes, looking for a place with better growth. And in the middle of the forest there was a low spot where a puddle always formed after the rains. Ivan thinks: I’ll go to this puddle and plant seedlings there.

I came, and lo and behold, instead of a puddle there was a whole lake! He decided to give the lake a name - Epatage, from the word “empathy”. He planted seedlings, and a whole forest of selfie sticks grew. And a selfie-beast ran towards these selfie sticks, the forest began to rustle from the selfie-moo of this selfie-beast.

Ivan was afraid that he had come to digitize the forest without a photo gun, because it had become dangerous in it, and just in case the selfie animals would attack and forge the digital signature - then his uniqueness would come to an end! How can you live without uniqueness? I decided to go home quickly, but I needed to collect selfie sticks for seedlings in order to digitize other parts of the forest. I cut one and put it in a basket. And then the Forester comes out of the thickets, grabs this cut-off selfie stick and hits Ivan on the head - smack!

— Are you against digitalization, or what? - Ivan yelled.

— No, I am for digital legality. In a digitized forest, only lying dead wood can be collected, but this is a standing selfie stick, they cannot be taken!

Ivan got angry here and spat at the Forester with his corona virus. He was already bewitched, and he ran into the thickets to reboot. I rebooted, but only when loading the multiloader crashed, and instead of the Forester, the Storyteller appeared. And he knows nothing about digitalization due to his backwardness. He sees Ivan planting some sticks, and decided to teach him some sense, and says:

- It would be better if you planted hemp! At least it would be of some use.

- Plant your own hemp! - Ivan answers. - But I don’t have time, I’m planting crowns.

- Your crown is below the crown plinth! Your Corona Windows won't load, you're in the wrong fairy tale! - The Storyteller laughed.

- Laugh, clown! - Ivan cried and stuffed the crown into the Storyteller’s laughing mouth. The storyteller was bewitched, he went to reboot and the Metastoryteller shell was loaded.

The meta-storyteller was carried away, and he filled the lake of Epatage to the top with absurdity. Ivan took the broom that Baba Yaga had left on the bank and began to sweep the meanings into a heap. But then he remembered that Baba Yaga would be against it, and threw the broom into the lake.

- Was there a broom? - someone asked loudly from the depths of the lake.

“Stop being clever, it’s a wet place,” Ivan replied. - Ask Klim Samgin, but I don’t have time. Now I will cook fish soup from meanings, I will treat the Meta-storyteller.

Here the Meta-storyteller was struck again, and he said:

- Valik-dzhan, I’ll tell you one smart thing, but don’t be offended: you and she are not two pairs in a boot, so we won’t take Baba Yaga from the outside - we’ll raise him in our team. It's not about the road we choose; it is what is within us that makes us choose the path. Otherwise I’ll wring your neck and head and tell you that’s how it happened! Why am I so in love with you, huh?

- Shoot, wise brat! - says Ivan. He realized that the Meta-storyteller had entered random sampling mode from a database of bearded jokes.

- The situation is hopeless! - Ivan said to himself in his hearts

- There are no hopeless situations! - said the Kama Sutra, with whom Ivan played tricks in the evenings when Vasilisa was not at home. — Because the exit is the entrance, if you look from the other side.

- What are you doing here? - Ivan was surprised. Kama Sutra did not have time to answer, because Vasilisa arrived in time and hit her on the backside with a selfie stick that fell out of Ivan’s basket. Kama Sutra ran away into the bushes, and no one else saw her that day.

- Vanka, have you eaten fly agarics again? “Come on, quickly go home, the unfed beast is roaring,” Vasilisa commanded and waved the selfie stick. But before she had time to give a tactile command, the fairy tale ended.