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Rusty vice versa
About 15 years ago it was. Immediately after the release of several lieutenants sent to serve in the GDR. And the train went in transit through Poland and the GDR in the Federal Republic of Germany (or West Berlin, I won’t say for sure). Naturally, even in Poland (or earlier) they began to celebrate, then and yes, in short, two or three people were dead drunk locked in a compartment, the GDRs slept, the customs of both Germanies miraculously passed by, and they were from a big hangover but with a full parade (in part of the new profits) came out at the station. They look around Germany, as it should be ... Only people are somehow looking at the Russian form strangely. They still tried to buy, but they did not understand the course ... Then, of course, they were tied up ... But since everything that happened was a blunder of the FRG border guards, until our heroes were taken by the authorities, they lived in a hotel at the expense of the German services, which missed! And in the GDR, according to rumors, they didn’t have much trouble with them, because they understood that the hangover would not lead them there, and at the same time they checked the vigilance of a potential opponent.
Problems with hard disk
Brought to work the screw for repair. On the diskette that was brought with the screw was the text. Processed - threw out caps, splash, replaced the names, names and numbers with the symbol "@". Translated into the format of "plain text", to facilitate the volume. More did not change !!! ---------------------------------------- Technical Director of Prokom-Electronics LLC from the Commander B / H ### Colonel ### Please. Please rewrite MODEL 2 B 010 N 1 11 A PCBA 05 A UNIQUE 11 A vDODE WAN 21 PBO СILINDЕRS 1638 NEADS 16 SECTORS: 63 LBA 20012832 QUANTUM FIRBAL W MUHTOR Makhtor 54 and 17 aNo 17 nA aryl aryl aryl aryl arya aryl arya aryan Gb = 1,000,000,000 Bуs 2 b 010 H 1110511 Mfg Daté 300 CT 2001 ER Made in SingaroRe (2) K, M, B, A information "My Documents" from the disk "Tse". What happened: - The computer stopped rebooting and by its own power, the ### lt decided to repair it. It turned out that the computer does not perform the functions of loading from the zhost disk - it turns on and then stops. Lt ### removed the hard disk from the computer case, opened the top cover and smeared the mirror surface with CIATIM-201 GOST 6267-74 liquid lubricant to remove the reader's slip, but it did not and the information "My Documents" remained inaccessible, t. K. computer vseravno not run the program Vindouz. Having personally controlled the consequences of the actions of ###, I found out that there is no subtractor unit inside the hard disk, apparently inaccurate actions, applying CIATIM-201 liquid lubricant GOST 6267-74 lt broke it and deleted, for which it will be punished. It is necessary to install the information reader site and rewrite the information from the My Documents folder from the Tse disk, since it is necessary for the operational work of the V / H. In the course of the repair, additional lubrication is not necessary because the CIATIM-201 GOST 6267-74 is of very high quality and is supplied to our B / H directly from the Omsknefteorgsintez plant and used on a large number of units and assemblies of vehicles with diesel engines. (not Chinese pottery). Please copy the contents of the My Documents folder from the Tse disk onto a CD-RW CD. Further actions with the hard disk in order to save your time can be not made, lt ### will be able to install it into the computer case and restart it with the Windows program. Payment procedure according to the invoice is guaranteed. Colonel ### S / H ###
In the city of Kazan there is a bridge built in honor of the millennium of the city, called the “Millennium”, the central pillar of which looks like a huge letter “M” and rises thirty meters above it. A few days ago we were driving across this bridge, suddenly the sight of a jumper in the back seat sighed (5 years) stops on a pedestal, having examined it carefully, he issued: "Mom, look, McDonald's!"
It was a hot summer day. Rush hour. I stand in a crowded bus. It is stuffy, hot, dusty, and it's impossible to move, just barely breathe. Here I feel that something firm rested in my groin. Well, I think the corner of a suitcase or diplomat. Trying to stand sideways. Does not work. It hurts, the eggs are not state-owned. And this angle, damn, all rushing and rushing. And to the stop is still far away. I’m already looking around indignantly looking, like, whose suitcase ?! And then I look down and see that ... that this is not a damn thing the corner of a suitcase, but the nose of some giant, shaggy dog (like a St. Bernard) with red eyes. I was stunned, my whole life flew by before my eyes. Well, everything, I think, came, schA she ka-a-ak ... Well, and now, I stand, I'm afraid to breathe (all sorts of thoughts climb, hell knows, the psychology of dogs) and look imploringly in the eyes of this dog, which also does not seem pleased with his position and looks up to me with his red good-natured eyes. And then, damn it, because of the powerful influx of adrenaline and nervous tension, my “brother” begins to “wake up”. Everything! I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown or fainting. And the “brother” was already up, proudly straightened. Psina looked at me in surprise and tried to remove the face. Did not work out. We drove for about a minute, but it seemed to me that we drove for an hour. When I got out of the bus, there was a feeling that I was born again.
Washing vacuum cleaner
I heard a couple of years ago a story about how one man couldn’t rejoice at his brand-new washing machine, but not because he washes himself, but because in the constant absence of hot water with this very washing machine it was possible easily get (for swimming, ets) hot water. And in my case, after acquiring a new vacuum cleaner, joy arose not from the fact that the house became somehow cleaner with the same level of effort, but from the fact that an amazing ease of chasing with the help of this vacuum cleaner for cockroaches, flies, mosquitoes and spiders and our other eternal neighbors. Soon, as was to be expected, thanks to my vacuum cleaner, cockroaches disappeared completely (by the way, I advise you, you just need to know the places), but the hunting destination of my vacuum cleaner is still known today. Now, actually, the story itself. A couple of days ago, I decide to purchase a new washing vacuum cleaner, and give the old one (2 years) to my parents, and I inform them by phone. The reaction of the mother was instant: - Are you going to THEIR now and you are going to BUY ?! Caring for our smaller brothers, damn it.
We had an ambulance dispatcher. She was already aged, so with light oddities, but the aunt is absolutely wonderful. And now she gives me a call. Type of man 45 years old, the reason - turned yellow. Well, I'm going. The neighbor opens, and immediately leads me into the communal flat. He starts up a room where an incredible bearded, unkempt and dirty man sits on the floor in an incredible mess and stench. Neighbor triumphantly: "Here !!! Admire! Pissing in the kitchen - in the sink !!!". The guy is quite friendly, and, characteristically, figuratively and clearly explains that first he pisses, pisses and will piss where he wants. And secondly, he did not call me. Therefore, I would be extremely grateful if I fell back to where it came from. The desire of the client - the law, and I begin to wade to the exit. But, since the peasant is not at all yellow, I want to know where exactly this reason for the challenge came from. After a brief investigation, I find out how it was. A neighbor asked to call her husband's emergency room. And he said to our dispatcher that "Your neighbor, in nature, BECAME." Well, she decided that he called the color inaccurate ...
Wait, let everyone fall asleep
It happened with one of my many friends. On the morning after a joint drink, I wake up and remember when and where we finished drinking yesterday, how did I get home and where are the drinking companions? (pressing questions, isn't it?) Not having achieved a result from a splitting head, I decided to first put myself in order, and only then take up the solution of all these problems. But only I was going to take a shower, as one of my friends yesterday comes. Appearance - something looks like on the usb bubble gum. It was from him, actually, that I heard this story. After we broke up, he was drawn to the ladies. It was indecent to go alone, but he found a like-minded at once. So, 2 x 2 they came out, only here is the room alone. Well, as expected, sat-drank. The girls are ready and ready ... Well, they dispersed in the corners. The second was whipped off, but my friend was encouraged: - Wait, let everyone fall asleep ... When he told me this, at this very moment he was so agitated that I had to give him water. He drank, but I can not wait, I to him: - Well, so what? What's next? .. He drank the water, put the glass neatly on the table, then looked at me with a withering look and said: - What-what ... I fell asleep!
To the tower stuck ...
There was an odd man in our company, one of the Asian brothers. Sultan ... I can't remember already. Harmless quiet boy, who constantly had all sorts of minor troubles. Then he would fall into the barrier ditch during the forced march, and there half a meter wide and through it the whole platoon had already jumped over, he wouldn’t notice a tree on the run, and it would be one per hectare of field, then he would give the honor to the duty officer with a left hand ... In general, he had no luck all the time. We got in guard, winter time, in the morning Sultanchik went to the post. I just sat on the phones, calls from the guards assumed that everything was normal. reading a book, I sometimes get distracted by my watch - do they observe the 10-minute period? I notice that Sultan hasn’t called for about 20 minutes. Well, okay, I think, maybe the bullfinch saw and forgot everything, maybe even looked at it ... After half an hour the bell. Naturally, I stuck to him - why do not you call. The answer is somehow vaguely "The tower was stuck, the phone was far away, it could not call." I digest what I heard for a minute, then put the tube down. "To the tower stuck ...", what kind of garbage? .. He returns from his post, I first of all drag him to the canteen guard, drink tea and find out what the "tower has stuck." To which he told me, barely moving his tongue: “I stand, on the tower, I look at the post.” Then I wanted to drink, however. I can not get down from the tower, there is snow to eat, but there is no snow on the tower. I looked - the pole in the hoarfrost was all over, I rubbed it with my hand - I received little water. Well, I took it and licked it ... (for those who do not know - in the cold, you can easily stick to a metal object, especially with a wet organ . - I mean, I look - the tongue stuck to the post. I blew on it - but it does not stick out. I can not call the phone, it's far. I’m afraid to shoot a gun - cap will tear his head. I stood there for a minute, and then my eyes closed and I jerked my head back - I opened my eyes, and I hung up on a trumpet of a scrappy tongue, I couldn’t call, I was sick, but ... I don’t know how I survived without injuries from Rzhachka his story, but I still remember these "lousy hands" still smiling ...
Pineapples in champagne
It was 1991. We sat with a friend in an old house, in a four-room apartment, which day already. Since all were not wealthy students, and the time was still "not rich", the money ran out and we, the four of us (all boys), sat in the kitchen and sullenly drank vodka, eating black bread and sipping water from the tap. The doorbell rings. It turns out that it came a classmate of the landlord, who worked on television and at that time received good money. He came with a lady, and asked to lock them in the central (the most luxurious, with the pre-revolutionary "trakhodrom") room, to indulge in carnal pleasures. We were even more depressed and even more gloomy continued our wretched libation. After 40 minutes, there was a heart-rending cry: “Kirill!” - (name of the landlord). - Bring champagne and fruit ANYONE! We almost killed him ...
Where is she?!
There were four of us at one party. 2 to 2. They drank, ate, danced, and my comrade strongly drank vodka and went (run) to the toilet, where he was stuck for a couple of hours. At that time I managed to do my lustful business with one of the “ladies” and sent them home. Prepared for bed. I lie, I smoke. At that time, the comrade swam into the room and, learning that the maidens had left, went to bed disappointedly. I closed the door to his room and turned on the radio. The leading presenter's charming voice led to the fact that after a few seconds a friend flies into my room and yells: - WHERE IS IT ?! . I answered: - Wan, they left. - And who is talking here? - he looks around the room. - PERSONAL !!!
It was last summer. Some padla tore off the front license plate of my car. I go out in the morning, I look - no. And it is obviously torn out together with the plastic holder. The first traffic cop stops. True, after my explanations, no sanctions followed. However, it was said that you need to go to the district police station, get a certificate about the loss of the number, with which to go to the traffic police department and get a new number. I come to the ROVD, I say to the duty officer - we need such and such information. He says go to the operas, they all know what to do. Opera sent to the investigator. And here the investigator explains to me the complexity of the seemingly simple problem. It turns out that if I write that the number was stolen, then I’ll have to start a case, carry out some operational measures, declare the number on the wanted list, etc. If I write that I lost the number, I won’t be given any information, because I myself am guilty somewhere this number will take part in crime, then I will have problems. In both! I, naturally, say that I will write a statement that the number was stolen. Then the investigator asks where I am registered. I say in Yasenevo. He happily says that this is not our district and blow into your ROVD. I add that I live with my wife here and write that they stole the number here too. It is sad to look at me (“what a bastard he got bastard after all”), the investigator gets all sorts of application forms, polling protocols, interrogation, etc., and begins to complain plainly, like, poor he is miserable, he needs it, now conduct all kinds of inspections, inspections, open a case, put almost ambushes and, most importantly, write a bunch of any papers on operational activities carried out, well, in general, to work out the full program, but on it and so any serious business and did not breathe and so on. Having read this for about ten minutes, ulyarno looking at me - I do not change my mind whether, and he realized that his problems touched me, but without the numbers I'm not going to ride, the investigator, heavy sigh, thinking. Suddenly some happy thought illuminates his face and he shouts through the open door to the corridor: - Guys, what about a hurricane in Moscow that week? In response, from somewhere: - Wednesday! Investigator - me: - Oh! Write - on Wednesday, such and such a number, I, such and such, found the loss of the license plate. There was a strong wind and, apparently, the license plate was knocked down by his gusts ... Then I connect: - The downpour was still strong. The investigator, already looking at me with approval: - ... or was washed away by streams of water from a heavy downpour. The application was written, registered, some other pieces of paper from the interrogator were attached to it, all of this is filed in a separate folder "Case No ... Open - then, opened, on the same day." I received a certificate, and a content investigator with a folder under his arm jumped off somewhere. Probably behind the medal ...
And who came to us there?
A certain grandmother, not quite old, was waiting for her granddaughter. To his arrival, everyone in the kitchen was busy, and she looked out of the window: did they not lead the kid to the beloved one? Finally I waited, I saw out of the window how my daughter and her child entered the staircase. In joyful impatience, a woman stepped out onto the stairwell and crouched low by the elevator. After a few seconds, the elevator doors opened ... A lady with a sweet voice, a voice of joy, sang: "And who came to us there?" ... A policeman came out of the elevator. For a moment they looked at each other — the woman began to laugh, unable to say a word. The guardian of order also silently retreated that he thought no one knew.
It was ethno with my good friend, a historian. Once he went about his historical affairs to Belarus, another year in 1996. And he got into conversation with one local in the village. Well, there, that, that, the weather, the harvest ... But you see, the historian, you know, moved the conversation little by little to World War II, to the partisans, and to the weapons that remained in those forests from the war. And local weapons have been collecting them for fifty years. And then where? He asks - where, they say, then all this terrible echo of the war? .. The grandfather replies: - Who handed over, who made so little small gesheft ... I myself found a box of anti-personnel mines once ... - And where? Where is the box? .. - Well, it was scary to me ... I threw him into the underground of one hut here, in the village, and grabbed it. - Well? - And it was demolished, a hut ... And in that place some of the city built a brick cottage. -?! And my grandfather responds with Olympic calmness and inimitable Belarusian reprimand: - That I, I-ta gavariv pit - Yashyk there my astavsya ... And Jan Gavaryt myane - Taby, dydu, adyn Yashshik only needed ... Yes, really ... Let syabe lie down.
Mom, and who am I?
It was my daughter about 5 years old. On television, they discussed the signs of the zodiac, the eastern calendar, and other personal belongings of horoscopes. The child became interested, listened attentively and asked: - Mom, who am I? - You're a year - horse. - And who else? - By month - Aries, sheep. - Yes, and here I am also a beast ...
My chief - the head of the department at the Internal Affairs Directorate of one of the administrative districts of Moscow was responsible for this very district. And we rode with checks in this very district as part of the chief proper, me (the inspector of this very department) as an adjutant and driver (respectively, of our own department Looking at one of the stationary posts, they saw in the monkey a drunk little peasant. The chief asked the duty questions, they say, for what and how much ... Then the senior of the entire outfit at this post, the brave junior lieutenant, just finished high school police and said he was going to write hooliganism on this muzhik ... - For what? - A pissed this little man on the tent ... - Yeah. Well, if the hunt, write, just indicate in the report, cut, what actions you see as anti-social actions ... The younger lieutenant nodded, sat down to write, and we decided to linger there, we smoke, we chat with sergeants. After about 10 minutes, a satisfied Mamlee comes out and draws a report, everything he said he wrote. We read: "... in the actions of Count XXXXX there are signs of antisocial acts, expressed in the fact that a given citizen exposing his penis, waving them in a radius of about half a meter, confusing passersby ...". We slowly crawl to the ground, the chief grunted meaningfully, tore up the report and said: - For such a radius it is necessary to set it as an example, and not to drag the court ...
Anthem in the sauna
There was (and is) one friend of mine, let's call him Vasya. Wonderful such a guy and ready for all sorts of life jokes, and not straining at all. Somehow, by itself, these jokes come out of him, and then we remember them after a year and, probably, we will pass them from mouth to mouth to the younger generation. So, it happened a few years ago in Chisinau, on the first of December. It must be said that in Moldova it is like a big holiday - the Day of the Great Reunion, that is, a certain number of years ago Moldova voluntarily joined Romania. But that's not the point. The aforementioned Vasya is a great proud of himself in everything that concerns the Romanian language (which has been recognized as an official for several years), and he knows everything about the history of Romania and, in particular, Moldova. But this is also not the most important thing. So, on December 1, his friends are invited to the sauna - there is a reason why not to go for a walk, and to hell with her, with her nationality. Vasya went to the sauna directly from work, that is, in a solid suit, with a tie and ... with a sheepskin cushma on his head (for those who do not know, the sheepskin cushma for Moldovans is the same as a hat for a horseman, I mean the national headdress). They come to the sauna, which means they start drinking. Drink well, exclusively cognac. Drink as citizens of sovereign Moldova, it means - a lot. At some point they realize that there is not enough communication with the opposite sex and they think about it - Chernyshevsky’s novel “What to do?” Vasya throws the idea about the representatives of the oldest profession, of course, in the purest Romanian, and everyone rushes to call all kinds of agencies, the benefit of their divorced countless. Agree. Vasya insists on the obligatory presence of a blonde with blue eyes and big breasts. Agreed While the girls arrive, they drink again. The girls are coming. They share in pairs and Vasya takes the very busty-blue-eyed blond himself. The girl, I must say, gorgeous. And go to the Mirror Hall. Everyone guessed that the hall was completely covered with mirrors, even the ceiling. Five minutes passed, everyone starts to relax and, then suddenly heard the hymn of Moldova, can you imagine someone (and it was in the sauna) playing the anthem! Of course, it was Vasya. It became interesting to everyone, they opened the door a little and see the oil painting: - Vasya is absolutely naked, with a retarded-happy expression, dressed only in the kushmu and bawling a hymn. Blonda stands in front of him on his knees and performs a procedure called the people blowjob. At some point, she raises her head and asks: - Maybe it is better to remove the cap, then? Grinning, Vasya negatively waves his head, and for stability rests his hand on the mirror, and continues to bawl. When it all ends, he rubs off the cushma sweat from his forehead, the sauna, after all, says: “So you, Russians, should be.” The girl, having stupefy from such a statement, stares at him and begins to sing, with a thin little voice, straightening up proudly, so, probably, the partisans sang during the execution, you will not believe "The Indestructible Union of Free Sides Republics" ... We were all on the floor. But that is not all. Vasya stares at the girl in amazement, so that the prostitute sings a hymn? But he listens to the end, after which he takes down the cushma, looks at her head and loudly declares: - Yes, women have not yet transferred in Russia ... Let's go drink.
A friend in the office on the eve of March 8, the administration decided to congratulate the employees in an original way. Ordered a large poster with a congratulatory inscription like "Dear women! Congratulations to you ... (and so on)." We hung this poster over the main entrance to the institution. History is silent about exactly what moment it happened, but a strong wind rose, and the poster could not stand it. A large piece broke off from him, and everyone was happy to see a new inscription above the door - “Dear women”.
There will be nothing
It was in St. Petersburg this summer. I arrived there for 3 days - to raise the level of internal culture I have long wanted. I run all excursions, monuments, etc., in order to raise something as high as possible. And here is an excursion to Peterhof. Beautiful, pogodka - class. I am in ecstasy (aesthetic). The little driver is ours, balding one and looks like a very decent family man and father, let's talk to me on all sorts of cultural topics and discuss the beauty of the city. The whole tour of the houses went, and we all talk. And then it turns out that I saw almost nothing, and in the evening I had to leave: (And so he unobtrusively invites me to show all the architectural charms that I have not considered. Well, I timidly agree and I hint at every chance, they say I'm a modest girl and ... Further, our conversation: “Do not worry, there will be nothing.” “... and no hints and molestation?” “No, dearie, what kind of harassment, we're adults.” “Walk in a friendly way, yes?” , I tell you, nothing will happen, literally not a drop of anything. ”“ Well ... - (quietly) not a bit ... I HAVE A LEAD GUM IS ... In morals.
Are you on Moscow?
It was in the late 70s. I come back from the construction team from Kazakhstan alone home. The commander gave the money only for the road. I got to Kuibyshev (now Samara), bought a plane ticket to Moscow. I ask some guy, far away, they say, here is the airport. "Near", - he answers. I calmly walked around the city, and when there was an hour left before I left, I caught a taxi and asked to throw it to the airport. Half an hour later, I began to guess that the ride was not so close. The taxi driver dispelled my doubts, saying that "it's still just an hour." I don’t know what to do (there’s not enough money for a taxi, I was late for the plane, it’s pointless to go out in the middle of the Zhiguli Mountains). I'm going while I'm lucky, and I think what will happen. One problem was soon resolved - the fellow traveler got hooked, it is already easier, at least the taxi driver will not beat for the pennies I give him. We drive to the desert airport. An agitated woman runs up to the car and asks: - Are you on Moscow? “Yes,” I reply. “Where are you disappearing,” she yells, “we’ve been delaying the plane for half an hour already.” Faster landing! Completely stunned by this surprise, I still got on the plane successfully. Sheer truth!
Why is the bullet stuck?
It was in the summer of 85 years. Our infantry battalion conducted training shooting ranges. I, as a foreman of military service, was supposed to provide for the shooting of non-commissioned officers. We had one sergeant in the battalion (a part-time hog, a Dargin by nationality). So this Dargin never cleaned his automatic, just like I didn’t persuade him. After a month of persuasion, I realized that my hands are more expensive and spat on him. So, this sergeant takes the machine gun and falls on the firing line. First turn and the bullet gets stuck in the barrel. In order to knock out a bullet, I pour oil into the barrel and lean the machine against the wall of the booth. Then I give my machine gun and start the exercise from the beginning. No sooner had the Dargin lie down on the firing line, I heard the command behind my back: "Stop the occupation." I turn and see the chief of staff of the regiment. He came to see how the battalion shoots. It should be noted that the chief of staff was a sample of a Soviet officer (195 cm tall, the form sat on it better than draw on posters). Around there is terrible dust (near the tankodrome), and it is ironed, the boots shine. And so, the chief of staff (NS) comes up to us and asks: - Why did they drop the machine gun, so that, soon, the demob and the weapon can be thrown anywhere? Me: - The bullet in the barrel is stuck. I must say that the NSH everything about what can get dirty, took only two fingers. Here he takes so gently for the barrel machine, butt up and trying to look into the barrel (am I not lying). Now imagine what happened. All the oil that was in the barrel, and it also became dirty from soot, flows directly into his eye, and then onto his tie, shirt and pants. And here is this sample of a Soviet officer, all covered with oil, and pretends to be Kutuzov, since one eye does not see anything because of the oil. But we saw this spectacle for a very short time, because the NS quickly came to its senses, took the machine gun by the trunk with both hands and gently asked: “And whose machine is it?” I will soon be home and, like Pavlik Morozov, I honestly admit that the machine is a pig. Further, the next dialogue took place between the pig and the angry NS, during which the latter stood with the machine gun raised above his head. NS: - Why are you, a bad person, did not clean the weapon? Swineer: - Chystil. NS: - Do not clean! Swineer: - Chystil. NS: - I did not clean !!! .. And so ten times. After that, the NS, as a more educated, and therefore more cunning, decided to corner the pig with his own question: “And why did the bullet get stuck in the barrel, are you a nonsense chock?” A swineer, thinking literally for a split second, gave the answer: - I got a fat bullet !!!
Disabled out of turn
It was during the polls shortage. A friend of mine was standing in line for ski boots and was afraid that he would not get it. Suddenly he sees the sign "Disabled Patriotic War served out of turn" And his father is disabled. Without one leg! He quickly brought his father, that crutches made his way to the counter and demanded ski boots! Queue in a rage - what are you, the old bastard, downhill skiing! And he, calmly like this: - We do not set records, we just have to go down the mountain!
USSR Navy. From the repair dock came the old failing boat, which already could not with the most likely adversary, but for training purposes was still quite good. After the repair, the sailors were supposed to take a boat and check everything carefully, for what purposes the boat was sent on a short trip. We perform diving at a shallow depth for a short time. And to check the instruments, the boatswain remains in the cabin in the deck superstructure, from which the boat is operated in a semi-submerged position. In fact, no one is supposed to be there when diving, but the devices need to be checked ... Well, they battened him down there and went under the water. Everything is going according to plan, and then suddenly the foreman, standing on the rudder, reports: - The boat does not obey the helm, I can not keep the depth! The commander to him - exactly, the depth gauge nerve jerks crawling along the scale. Commander: - Blow out the nasal ballast! The boat lifts its nose, but the arrow continues to fall, rapidly approaching the mark of the maximum allowable depth. - Blow through the main ballast! The boat trembles and buzzes, the arrow rests on the stopper and freezes. Everyone in the command compartment is wet and blue, waiting for the rivets to fly and crush the hull. At this point, the boat shakes and it becomes on an even keel. Silence. - Pi # dec. Lay on the ground ... Everyone is afraid to move. The chief mate asks a little: “I wonder how much is above us? .. The officers look at each other, no one dares to check on the map.” And then someone remembers: - Boatswain !!! Botsman explicit cranes - windows in the superstructure a long time ago was to squeeze. The commander, without any hope, picks up the phone and presses the call button: - Chopping? - Felling is listening! - the vigorous voice of the boatswain is heard, - Commander, but why are we drifting on the surface? The commander silently rushes to the periscope: the sun, seagulls, clouds ... In general, only because they spent another day at sea, the commander and all those who were in the command compartment managed to cool down and self-defeatly kill freaks of skoropok who pumped air into the depth gauge, not become. All limited to a simple report.