Stoyan, who was far sharper than Ivan realized, took one look at Ivan’s greedy eyes and smiled. "Of course, Ivan. Start with the big trees at the back. Work hard, and there will be a great reward at the end of the day."

Ivan looked down at his hand. He wasn't holding a bottle of rakia. He wasn't even holding his tool. He was holding a smooth, broken, useless piece of timber. "What is this?" Ivan sputtered.

By sunset, Ivan was exhausted, covered in sap, and his hands were blistered. He climbed down from the last tree and wiped his brow. "Finished, Stoyan! Now, about that reward?"

Ivan showed up at Stoyan's gate, grinning like a fox. He even brought his own tool—a sharp, ancient adze (a tesla ) passed down from his grandfather.

This phrase is a playful, colloquial Bulgarian expression——which literally translates to "the handle of the adze" (a woodworking tool). Figuratively, it’s used to describe getting "the short end of the stick," a total failure, or being left with nothing but a useless piece of wood after a big plan falls apart.

"Stoyan, my friend!" Ivan shouted. "I see your trees are heavy. Let me prune them for you. No charge, just neighborly love!"

One autumn, the village was buzzing. The harvest was rich, and everyone was preparing their private stashes of rakia (plum brandy). Ivan, however, didn't want to spend money on plums. He had a "brilliant" plan to outsmart his neighbor, Stoyan, who had the finest orchard in the region.

Ivan walked home in the dark, hungry and tired, clutching a stick of wood while the smell of Stoyan’s simmering plums filled the air.