It materialized out of thin air right next to the wooden pulpit. The audience looked at each other with visible relief: apparently, they were waiting for someone else here. Then, in order to attract attention to his person, the creature ruffled his gray fur and flicked his mangy tail three times. But these actions did not have the expected effect. It was only on Kamchatka that someone yawned loudly and again buried his head in the hefty volume of “Monsters of the Universe.” The front rows also paid no attention to the creature. The red-haired creature was slightly confused and its red eyes sparkled uncertainly, shaking its dirty clawed paw, clicking its triangular hooves and howling terribly. The strange creature did not stop trying to attract the attention of the audience. It spun like a top in one place, stamping and slapping, tumbling over its hairy head, pulling out its shabby tail and branchy horns and putting them back somewhere inside. And then the creature became sad. It clearly felt out of place, but hope dies last, and it decided to try to attract attention one last time. Spreading its arms wide, it noisily released from its mouth the air accumulated in its stomach - it smelled noticeably of hydrogen sulfide - and spun around like a top. Then she froze in a not entirely decent position, angrily breathed fire, burning several outdated morally and physically visual aids on the history of the CPSU from the beginning of the end of perestroika, and looked at the silent audience with the hope of reciprocity.