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Bartholomew and the Oobleck

Non-resident legal entities should provide the aforementioned documents to open an account with banks and non-bank financial institutions in Belarus.

In addition, representative offices of non-resident foreign entities should provide a copy of the permit issued by the Foreign Ministry to open a representative office and representative offices of foreign banks should submit a copy of a decision adopted by the National Bank.

All documents and their copies submitted by non-residents to Belarusian banks shall be legalized. All documents and their copies in a foreign language should be presented along with an authenticated translation into one of the state languages of Belarus.

The signature of an officer of a non-resident company shall be authenticated either by a Belarusian diplomatic mission in the company’s home country or by a diplomatic mission of this country in Belarus.

Vladimir Tarasov

 

Bartholomew and the Oobleck

by Dr. Seuss

 

 

They still talk about it in the Kingdom of Didd as The-Year-the-King-Got-Angry-with-the-Sky. And they still talk about the page boy, Bartholomew Cubbins. If it hadn't been for Bartholomew Cubbins, that King and that Sky would have wrecked that little Kingdom.

 

Bartholomew had seen the King get angry many, many times before. But that year when His Majesty started growling at the sky, Bartholomew Cubbins just didn't know what to make of it.

Yet all that year, the old King did it. All year long he stared up into the air above his kingdom, muttering and sputtering through his royal whiskers, "Humph! The things that come down from my sky!"

All spring when the rain came down, he growled at that...

All summer when the sunshine came down, he growled at that...

All autmn when the fog cam down, he growled at that

 

And that winter when the snow came down, he started shouting! "This snow! This fog! This sunshine! This rain! BAHH! These four things that come down from my sky!"

"But, King Derwin," Bartholomew tried to calm him. "You've always had these same four things come down."

"That's just the trouble!" bellowed the King. "Every year the same four things! I'm mighty tired of those old things! I want something NEW to come down!"

"Something new come down ... ?" Bartholomew gasped. "That's impossible, Your Majesty. You just can't have it."

"Boy, don't you dare tell me what I can or cannot have! Remember, Bartholomew, I am King!"

"I know. Sire," said Bartholomew. "You rule all the land. And you rule all the people. But even kings can't rule the sky."

"Can't, eh?" His Majesty flew into a terrible rage. "Well, maybe other kings can't do it, but maybe I'm one king who can! You mark my words, Bartholomew Cubbins, I will have something new come down!"

But how to get something new to come down ... ? That was rather hard to think up. And for many days the old King stomped around, trying to figure out some way to do it.



Then, finally, late one night, when all the lords and ladies of the palace were fast asleep ... just as the King was buttoning his royal nightshirt ... he suddenly stopped still. A strange wild light began to shine in his gray-green eyes.

"Why, of course!" He began laughing. "They can do it for me! Bartholomew Cubbins, blow my secret whistle! Quick! Call my royal magicians!"

"Your magicians, Your Majesty?" Bartholomew shivered. "Oh, no, Your Majesty! Don't call them!"

"You hold your tongue, Bartholomew Cubbins! You do as I command you. Blow my secret whistle!"

"Yes, Sire," Bartholomew bowed. "But, Your Majesty, I still think that you may be very sorry."

He took the King's secret whistle from its secret hook. He blew a long, low blast down the King's back secret stairway.

And a moment later he heard them coming! Up from their musty hole beneath the dungeon, up the empty midnight tunnel to the royal bedchamber tower, came the magicians on their padded, shuffling feet. Up and right into the room they came chanting:

 

"Shuffle, duffle, muzzle, muff.

Fista, wista, mista-cuff.

We are men of groans and howls,

Mystic men who eat boiled owls.

Tell us what you wish, oh King.

Our magic can do anything."

 

"I wish," spoke the King, "to have you make something fall from my skies that no other kingdom has ever had before. What can you do? What will you make?"

 

For a moment they stood thinking, blinking their creaky eyes. Then they spoke a word ... one word ... "Oobleck." "Oobleck ...?" asked the King. "What will it look like?"

 

"Won't look like rain. Won't look like snow.

Won't look like fog. That's all we know.

We just can't tell you any more.

We've never made oobleck before."

 


Date: 2014-12-29; view: 627


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