Once upon a time in the village of Bezdelyai there lived a man named Krizas, with the last name Vershok, he was famous for his wisdom. Smart advice poured out of him like feathers from a pillow, but despite all that, our Krizas didn’t even demand a penny for them. And only on Sundays did he give himself a rest - he would grind all kinds of nonsense with his tongue. Nonsense in vegetable oil. Krizas was the right man: a lion at heart, a fox in mind. Although, to be fair, Vershka and his ancestors were all worth each other: bears in a fight, oxen at work, each master scratching his tongue. No matter what they put their hand to, they will break it so that it will never be repaired; whoever is stroked will have sparkles from his eyes; and God forbid they praise someone - a person walks around for six months as if he’s lost in the water. A glorious family, needless to say!