Miss Lala Sandals

Vladimir Ross

Thomas Aquinas would most likely have lead a quiet life of crime after finishing his prison sentence, if it hadn’t been for her. Lively, difficult, and always wearing a ridiculous ponytail, Lala Sandals barged into his life one day and took over. Between buying expensive furnishings for the house and sending him out to work constantly, she quickly made Thomas’ life an endless sea of agony. One fateful day, Thomas was given the opportunity to fight back.

Miss Lala Sandals

Vladimir Ross

Cover designer Nada Orlic

Editor Nicole Stepanek

© Vladimir Ross, 2017

© Nada Orlic, cover design, 2017

ISBNВ 978-5-4485-0842-4

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Miss Lala Sandals

InВ aВ moment ofВ doubt she appears

She enters inВ with aВ sigh

Blood lines are all but forgotten

And the insolent heart willВ die

Thomas lived on a quiet street in a respectable area and had good reason to be proud of the enormous mansion in which he lived, an inheritance from his dear ancestors. The prison term that tore Thomas from his family transformed the old house, which at one time was quite distinguished for being well-kept. However the nobility of its construction was stronger than the owner’s carelessness, and as before, it was rare for a passerby not to stop under the influence of its lush baroque style. Once released, Thomas deliberately sent away the huddled homeless that had taken up residence there, cleared one room of dirt and garbage, and postponed cleaning the rest of the mansion until better times returned. Who can say what prevents a kradunu* with a forty year career from cleaning up his act? A simple life often rejects beauty, and poverty, as a rule, is no match for spiritual wealth.

Hodka* had greatly changed him. He led a desolate life, marked by evenings spent emptying bottles and days with a complete lack of goals, save for searching intensely for a “living wage” job – that was it. He would’ve ended up as a useless drunk, forgotten by friends and enemies alike, if it hadn’t been for her.

Having seen her – lively and energetic with mischievous eyes and a ridiculous ponytail on her head – a man, a criminal with an impeccable reputation who had no trace of Don Juan in him, would pass without looking back. He remembered the betrayal of a podel’nika*, whose soznankoy* ensured Thomas’ recent sentence and, valuing his freedom, he vowed never to work as a pair again. Besides, he wasn’t about to make an exception for some girl, if even she was perfectly fit for the role of stremki*. Life, however, decided otherwise.

The parasite came to him during one risky raid into the next neighborhood. Climbing into the varnish shed, Tommy sat near the refrigerator and took out edible supplies, mentally allocating the order of their use. He was about to start the meal, when he heard a loud whistle. The domushnik* cautiously clung to the window, a good location which allowed him to see the owner’s open gate. Remembering to take his partly-assembled dinner, the thief clanged the lock, carefully removed the exposed frame through which he entered, crossed the windowsill, and quietly took off.

The grimy maloletka* spun nearby, beaming with pride at her timely signal, wearing an unforgettable yellow jacket of immense size. Thomas extended a sausage link to his savior and silently bowed. It would be folly to add “breaking and entering” or even “involving minors” to his solid experience and knowledge of the Federal Criminal Code. But the audacity of the young woman knew no limit. The girl was glued to him as if with Velcro and did not lag behind one step, badly ruffling his nerves. Who would want to unveil his home address? For an hour, winding through the city, Thomas tried to lose his tail at every carefully chosen turn, and when it eventually happened, he sighed with relief. Yet fortune was playing her own game, for upon his ret