Once upon a time there was an “enlightened, moderately liberal” pisar. Smart parents, dying, left him to live, looking at both. Piskar realized that he was in danger from everywhere: from large fish, from neighbors-piskaray, from a man. Piskar built a hole for himself, where no one except him could fit, at night he swam for food, and during the day he “trembled” in a hole, did not sleep enough, was undernourished, but struggled to save his life. Piscaru dream about a winning ticket of 200 thousand. It lies in wait for crawfish, pike, but it avoids death.
The piskar does not have a family: “I myself should live.” “And a wise sissy lived like that for more than a hundred years, all trembled, trembled, no friends with him, no relatives, no one
Piskar lived a hundred years. Reflecting on pike words, he realizes that if everyone lived like him, the piscary would be outnumbered. Life, which he leads, contributes to degeneration. It refers to “useless peepers”. “None of them are warm or cold, no honor, no dishonor, no glory, no shame… they live, they take a good place and feed food.” Piskar decides once in his life to get out of the hole and normally swim along the river, but is frightened. Even dying, the pisar shivers. No one cares for him, no one asks his advice how to live a hundred years, no one calls him wise, but rather a “dunce” and “hateful”. In the end, the pisar disappears no one knows where: after all, it is not needed even for pikes, ill, dying, and yet wise.