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„How dare you?!“ rages Aleksey Ivanovich. „Has this edition been distributed to the departments? Or not yet?“

„Yes it has,“ Mama whispers in a dejected voice.

„Such efficiency,“ the party committee leader says sarcastically. „Just what we need! Usually they bring the newspaper late. Three days late…“

Mama keeps silent, knowing it is better not to argue with the authorities. The party committee leader stops for a moment, takes a deep breath, and begins to rumble with renewed strength:

„Take the papers away! Throw them in the garbage! And you can thank God that no one else but me has seen this slander. Get going!“

Mama stands up reeling. She takes a step to the door and thinks with relief: „Thank God the flogging is over.“ But before she can grab the doorknob, she receives another blow.

„From now on, all poetic verses must be submitted to me. They can only be printed in the newspaper with my approval! We’ll have a talk with Boris Fedorovich at the party committee meeting.“

Mama slowly turns around.

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