Познакомьтесь с кланом Григорий.
It was February 1, 2001. In Russia’s Orenburg Oblast, the small town of Yasny was buried under an unusually brutal winter. The forecasts said the cold snap wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and some people were already calling it the worst storm in eighty years.
That’s what finally pushed the Grigoriy Clan to do something crazy: they decided to head for Hawaii. You know, that sunny paradise they’d seen pictured on the little Dijon mustard bottle their human roommates always bought. The label said it came from Hawaii, and somehow, that mustard had become huge in Russia thanks to its creator, Ms. Ivonna Dijona. She’d even been awarded the country’s highest state order for it.
There was an old folktale among the mice that Ms. Ivonna Dijona was actually A MOUSE FROM RUSSIA who once dreamed of starting a business in Hawaii. How a mouse could look like a full-grown human was a question nobody could ever quite answer.
None of the mice had ever traveled that far before. Their previous record was a trip to Akabira City up in Hokkaido, Japan.
"Who's this Grigoriy Clan?" You ask. They’re a bunch of mice with an accent similar to that of an animated television series featuring a character from Latin America. They often raised their heads high and let out a HIGH-PITCHED SQUEAK whenever they wanted to draw attention to something.
Unlike humans, who usually get their names from family tradition, these mice do things differently. Their surnames come from words that mean something deep and personal to them, while their first names seem to capture their very essence, almost like their destiny was baked into the name from the start.
The main trio was: Commander Grigory, the no-nonsense leader with a sharp strategic mind, Technician Grigory, the clever engineer who could fix or build just about anything, and Observer Grigory, the quiet, analytical one who was excellent at surveillance and reading situations.
One day, Observer Grigoriy overheard their human roommates talking about some kind of drill happening in Mezhgorye, in the Republic of Bashkortostan. The operation was scheduled to begin at the Witching Hour on a heavy Monday, under the code name “Squad 3.”
Commander Grigoriy quickly called Technician and Observer to join him. They were going to Hawaii. The three of them packed their favorite snacks that included rolled oats, dried fruit, and plenty of cheese, and spent the next few days saying goodbye to friends and family around the region.
First, they stopped by the school they’d all attended. The mice proudly called it “the school of great opportunities,” where any mouse could succeed. They sat through one last English lesson and had a great time.
After that, they visited Uncle Bear, a massive polar bear originally from America who had moved to Russia. He was famous for grumbling about “bears these days” and usually mauled anyone, including brown bears, but he’d always had a soft spot for the Grigoriy Clan ever since they helped him find a quiet place to live inland.
Before leaving, the trio went to their final Divine Liturgy at the little parish church they loved. The priest spoke about how God provides, reading from Luke 12:24 in the Russian Synodal Version: “Look at the ravens: they do not sow or reap; they have no storerooms or barns, yet God feeds them; how much more valuable are you than birds?”
The Prayer Warrior promised he would be interceding for them and asking for divine guidance on their journey.
After the service, the whole clan gathered to watch the premiere of a new sitcom, a completely over-the-top satirical show about the chaotic reality of post-Soviet apartment life. They were especially entertained by the fact that just two actors played every single character.
After lots of squeaking, hugging, and final goodbyes, the three mice quietly slipped onto Squad 3’s Ural-4320, that tough, all-wheel-drive 6×6 off-road truck that had been around since 1977.
“Stay frosty, mice,” said Battle Captain Grigoriy, who was staying behind in Russia. “We’re going deep into the world. Trust your training and watch your three.”
The Grigoriy Clan knew the route from Yasny to Mezhgorye well. In good weather, it usually took about nine hours. With this storm raging, Observer Grigoriy figured it would take at least eighteen. Still, the big Ural-4320 fired up its engine and rolled out into the snow.
Командный пункт ожидает доклада.