My Blog: jokes jokes funny stories
I went on Friday to the uncle to the country in the village. The visit was accompanied by a plentiful libation. On Sunday afternoon, it was decided to return home. Ivanovich and I went to the bus stop, which was on the road, but across the field. Having already passed half the field, we suddenly noticed that the bus that was supposed to drive us was leaving, but clearly without us. Next two hours later. Come back zapadlo. I say: - Ivanovich, do not be afraid. I know the places here. We’ll go to the next village, km 1.5, where there are buses every half an hour to the station. In short, let's go. Found a stop. Stand, smoke, wait. We smoke, we wait, we stand. probably stood about an hour. Suddenly a granny walks by and unobtrusively inquires: - Guys, do you happen to wait for a bus here? - Yes Yes! Granny, himself, What time will he go? And then there’s nothing schedule. - Actually, the guys haven’t been here for two years now ... Ivanovich was very happy ...
Visiting a patient
Two friends (one of them is my wife, the second also know very well) decided to visit a sick girlfriend. All three Natasha, so we’ll just call them Two Girlfriends and a Sick. The patient was really sick, had a cold, the temperature was over 38. After some time, I became bored alone and I asked for a visit. Oil painting: two Girlfriends are sitting at the table and vying express their sympathy, The patient rushes between the stove, table and refrigerator, serves Girlfriends. In addition, she still manages to respond to sympathy for her. My arrival only added her work. As a result, after two hours and 2 liters of wine, the patient became much better. All healthy people danced and sang karaoke.
Joke about Chukchi
I work as a manager and communicate with clients on duty. Clients came - Yakuts. That is, according to the passport - like Ivan Ivanovich Gorokhov, and according to the faces - the poured Mongoloids from the history textbook. People are far from frail. complexions like the new Russian. Gold nuts on the fingers. gymnasts with pants - mustache like people. And now they are sitting with their backs to the door to the study. and they’re talking with me. And in many, so to speak. collectives have personalities. which everyone is hearing about which stories are told. And such a person will call him Alexei - appears on the threshold of my office. and blurts out with beer bottles. Seeing the guests, and me, not seeing their faces - they with their backs to him - suddenly yells: - Max! I have not heard a new joke about Chukchi !!! The faces of my guests turn to him - and in horror, he sees two Chukchi muzzles - the New Russian Yakuts. and their interest in listening to a joke. So Alexey. the jaw slowly falls and the hair on the head rises. I only defused the situation a little. Said: - Alexei, consider that you have already told a joke. There was a laugh - about 30 minutes.
Curd with raisins
It was my little son about two years old and we lived in a hostel (1994). In addition to students, insects always live in dormitories. Moreover, the son is a sociable boy and was well acquainted with both the first and second. But with the products I knew little and not with everyone (1994 - total deficit). He had a chance to try "Curd Mass with Raisins". The young zoologist looked at the plate and firmly stated: - Flies! We rushed to reassure: - What are you, hey, it's not flies. Then, "Zayinka", filled with noble anger, trembling lips asked: - Ta-ra-kaaa-nah ?! - No, what are you? This is raisins! - we hastened to explain, in order to avoid the continuation of zoological interpretations. - Fu! Raisins! - said “Zayinka” squeamishly, because he was not familiar with such a beast. And he flatly refused to get acquainted, no matter how we tried to persuade. And when we tried to show by personal example how delicious it is, our rating fell sharply and we found ourselves next to the natives of Australia and Africa who eat living worms.
There was a case in the glorious city of Obninsk, Russia, in the year 92. The Obninsk branch of the Moscow Engineering Physics Institute (MEPhI) was there since ancient times, and in 1985 it was successfully renamed the now functioning and even quite decent Obninsk Institute of Atomic Energy (IATE). So, there is, therefore, a half-seminar / half-lecture on some computer theme in the IATE. I (the teacher) talk about the features and difficulties of creating a user interface in good and good Russian. As examples I give all sorts of standard inscriptions on the TurboXXX button buttons and say that, well, it’s not always easy to find a good translation, which would fit on the button, and would definitely be understood by a Russian user, far from the world of bytes and files. The group I had then was smart, active, plus the girls were there - just at least send them right away to the top models. And here is one such krasulya from the front desk, wanting to contribute to the lecture and be active, I swear to God, an innocent rhetorical question - Would it be correct to literally translate Change how to Change? gives a cue - Yes, indeed, it is not clear with whom .... The entire male part of the group crawled under the tables, and then always tried to check the interface on the girls (in addition to using them for their intended purpose) ...
There was a time when I worked at a scientific institute of the Academy of Sciences. And one morning, she enters the laboratory - an intellectual in the third generation, refined to the utmost, and at the same time she is under sixty. And she feels very excited. And he says to me: - Can you imagine, I just got RED IN THE BACK !!! It turned out that someone had entered her Lada.
It was the case in the glorious city of Marburg, where I had a chance to study in 1995-96. Our main occupation was, of course, drinking beer at home and in local pubs (“Kneipps”), which are three times as many in Marburg, 80 thousandth, as in my own 1.5 millionth E-burg. Once, with my comrade in arms, I had to go on an excursion to a local brewery. For the sake of such an event, I did not drink beer for two whole days, anticipating a mandatory tasting in such cases. Expectations were not deceived. On the appointed day, a small crowd of older students (Germans) gathered near the brewery building, to which we also joined. After an hour tour of the brewery with the participation of its director, everyone was invited to a tasting. Everything is decorous with a snack. The director pushed a toast to small business development and away we go. Plain German students turned into ordinary lithrobolists in front of their eyes. The director also pretty bad. We did not lag behind, but tried to keep ourselves within the framework. At this time, the Germans were already yelling loudly, grabbing a few students for prominent places and were ready to sing folk songs. After a while, the beer in the barrel of the tasting room was over. The people demanded the continuation of the banquet. With the sanction of the director, the people made a trip to the warehouse and dragged a few more boxes ... The lawlessness lasted five hours. I already began to feel some overflow and moved home. But the funniest thing happened to me in the morning. When I woke up in a terrible state in the morning (after all, I had the worst hangover from beer), I thoughtlessly went to a couple by 9-00 (which you won’t do with a meal). The food, therefore, on the bus, makes me sick, my body condition, like a heated bottle of champagne. At the mere thought of Marburg beer, beer in general, and any liquid, the stomach begins to vibrate reflexively. And at one point, the bus overtakes the car, which is written in archin letters (naturally, in German) ... yes yes ... MARBURG BEER. R. S. I very successfully managed to jump out of the bus and empty my stomach in a nearby park ...
New form of payment
We had a lady who catastrophically confused words. For example, one of her pearls is "twenty rides from here." But here is her biggest masterpiece - telling something, instead of "I gave all my vacation for it," blurted out - "I gave all my periods." The people at first were amazed. and then he laughed long and tastefully, exchanging opinions - this is where this form of payment is now.
My wife and I had a tradition: in the morning, as soon as the alarm rings, one of us got up, put on email. the stove kettle whistled and lay down again. And when the water began to boil and there was a deafening whistle in the apartment, we finally woke up and started to get ready for work. So, according to the established algorithm, I acted on a beautiful sunny morning - I jumped up, put down the kettle, and flopped down. Fell asleep. I wake up from the fact that the whole apartment is in smoke - a woven straw stand stuck to the bottom of the kettle. Well, I knocked her hand into the sink, cursed, put the kettle on another burner (cleaning the crap was not part of my morning schedule), well, and went to fill up. Fell asleep. I wake up from the fact that the whole apartment is in smoke. (Wife is sleeping) I run out to the kitchen, where it turns out that I turned on a completely different burner-third, on which stood a cast-iron skillet with the remains of our dinner ... But this is all garbage. I took her BARE HANDS ...
We had a secretary at our company, so pretty, just shooting a head off. Her commercial calls her and says: - Tanya, Sasha and I are going to Moscow on Wednesday with a "night horse", order us train tickets. Tanya leaves and returns after 5 minutes. With a worried face, she says to the director: “Tatyana Alexandrovna, there is no such train as a night horse.”
Kitten to whom?
From a dialogue in ICQ: - To whom is a kitten? Qualitative. Almost no use, 2 months in total. Stocked. There is wool (a merry black and white color), paws (4 pieces), a mustache (unreadable) and a urchin (built-in). The subject has the function of urinating to the toilet, lying on the TV with his tail dangling on the screen and indefatigable cheerfulness. The power function is debugged simply on a marvel: even bread and pasta are eaten with pleasure. As well as a unique self-cleaning system. And I give all this happiness just like that, for good people I do not mind! - Brand? Are there any glitches? Upgrade? Manibek? Warranty? Does the mouse recognize?
My older friends warned me that pregnancy and childbirth negatively affect the brain, that is, you cease to think something completely. Recently, I had the opportunity to verify this. In the maternity hospital, it means that we adapted ourselves to drink tea with condensed milk so that milk arrives. And you have to eat in the dining room like this: while the child is sleeping, you quickly eat soup, grab a second and tea or compote and rush into the room: what if your miracle woke up? So, somehow I, feeling that my daughter would wake up soon and I didn’t have time to finish my tea, grabbed a mug, ran into the room, quickly mixed condensed milk and sat quietly. Then I look, something is floating in the circle, sometimes disappearing into the condensed wilds. Strange, I think what they put in tea? Half an hour I caught this garbage. I caught it. I considered for a long time, I could not understand what it was, then I found out that there was some kind of berry. Strange, I think, what kind of tea is this? Okay, I think I won’t get poisoned. I started drinking: what is it, why is it so cold and nasty? Only in the middle of the mug did I realize that it was actually a compote!
Once, I was driving along the Capital in a bus from Filey in 1905. He rode a long time. Crossed the avenue at some point. That prospectus looked natural, like after a good air strike. And the plate was appropriate: "The work is carried out by the Su-25."
Where is sekan?
He was at the hydrological faculty of the deputy dean by the name of Sekan (or maybe Sikan is not the point). And then one entrant needed to settle in a dormitory. Knowledgeable people advised her to turn to Sekan. She enters the dean’s office and asks, they say, do not tell me where to find the secane of the hydrological faculty. The most resourceful of those present suggested that in the secant.
I was once with a friend at his girlfriend’s house. We are sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee, and the girl’s mother was relaxing in the bedroom. And during a leisurely conversation, I mentioned that some kind of infection has been going around Moscow and I have been in a painful state for two days. To which the girl replies that, they say, like: - I also have some kind of infection in my apartment. Friend, not looking up from a cup of coffee (so sad): - Yes, he walks. Only now is she asleep.
Was in America in the 90s. the director of the CIA is Robert Gates. Already retired, he wrote a most interesting book, an excerpt from which I bring to your attention. The story is real and confirmed. In the 60s, as you know, relations between the USSR and China began to deteriorate rapidly. Mutual insults and slander at the party level have become the norm. Well, if the members of the CPSU and the CCP treat each other as enemies, respectively, and at a lower level, following an installation from above, ordinary Russians and Chinese also did not honor each other. Now imagine. One of the sections of the Soviet-Chinese border. Almost every day, Chinese border guards lined up, took off their pants and showed their asses to the USSR, watching through binoculars the reaction of Russian border guards. One fine day, Soviet soldiers were tired of it and a radical and witty decision was made. When the Chinese comrades once again lined up on the shore and exposed their asses, the Soviet soldiers in response lifted factory posters from the ground with the image of ... Mao Zedong. Seeing his leader through binoculars, the Chinese commander instantly gave the order to put on his pants. Our border guards on the other side of the border of naked asses did not see more. Unfortunately, the book does not describe whether any of the Chinese were shot for this disgrace or not. The book is also silent about whether someone from the Soviet command was awarded a medal for ingenuity.
He came to his girlfriend. And her bed is small, well, and settled on the floor (in the sense of just lying together and chatting) no intimacy ... Almost ...) In general, we lie, she laid her head on my feet ... Resting. Then the girl’s mother comes in, looks at this picture (it’s not the first time she has seen this) and gives out a pearl: - Lord !!! Yes, what is it that you have for SEXUAL DISEASE such !!! Everyone was dying with laughter ... nervous Lecture at night
There were times when I returned from work late and my husband, laying down our five-year-old son, did not tell him tales like most parents did, but gave small, non-fiction lectures. My son liked it and when, contrary to usual, I had the honor to put him down, he turned to me with a request: - Tell me about the laser, or about the molecules. Then he looked at me, thought and continued: - Or at least about the bun.
We were once with my husband in a toy store. He saw one radio-controlled car and caught fire: I want, he says, to give my nephew for the holidays - let them say that the child will be happy. Well, bought it. Time passes, not a word about my nephew. Now he sits at a computer, works, the remote control is next to the car - she, when I’m in the kitchen, comes to me to buy beer.
My friend had a name day. Of course we drank. And two of our friends, husband and wife, left the holiday two hours earlier. The rest of the company, somewhere around one in the morning, remembered the departed. And I decided to visit them. Walking an hour, no more. In the stalls along the way, an additional drink was naturally purchased. So we walked, sang songs. Already on the way to the house of friends, I stumble and my glasses fall. They fall into the basement window, closed by bars. It seems the object is visible, and not get it (the lattice interferes). There were two of the guys — me and my friend. Further from the words of my wife. I tell my friend - protect the glasses. I remind you that it’s a birthday, I’ve drunk a lot, they were singing songs. And my wife and I go up to my friend’s apartment. We call, the door opens, they let us in. We explain the situation: glasses are behind bars, they seem to be a pity, the frame of money is worth it. And I already fell asleep in a chair in the hallway. My friend got into a problem and went to save points. He goes out into the street and only reached for his glasses, then a friend comes out into the arena who GUARDED the glasses. He with all the dope sculpts in the forehead of my friend. There was a slight brawl, because not everyone knew right away where ours were, but where the Germans were. And the next morning the friend said the following - I’m lying, sleeping, waking up in the middle of the night, being taken out into the street and in the forehead. This is also the situation.
There were times when our "smaller brothers" from Southeast Asia not only hung around in the markets, but also shocked at the construction sites of the national economy. The case took place at a normal construction site. The foreman is given in command of a brigade of several people of such brisk and smart Vietnamese brothers. Having sent most of the brigade to engage in “intellectual work” on dragging weights, he left one (the most intelligent in his opinion) to carry out a specific task - concreting a small hole in the floor on the first floor. Prior to this, various work was carried out in the basement, and in order not to drag the generator into the basement, a hole with a diameter of about 20 centimeters was punched in the floor for the cable. This had to be repaired. The instructions were minimal, because the technology of the work is simple to disgrace. In short, the shovel is there, the car with the solution is here, the hole is here! After 2 hours, the "brother" runs up and reports happily to the foreman: - Commander, the solution is over! The foreman slowly goes nuts, well, okay, he was hanging around for two hours, but where, damn it, the car of the solution of cases, the businessman? I went to check, and what he sees - the worker grabs a shovel of solution and slaps into the hole with all his might. The solution meeedenly with a solid slap falls into the lower room. Instead of supporting the bottom with a shovel and concreting the hole, this craftsman famously threw the mortar machine into the basement, apparently enjoying the process itself. For the rest of the day, the Vietnamese brigade dragged the solution back ...
I had a girlfriend. Rather, she is now, but already far from me. So here. I don’t remember from when, but we began to call each other "Darling", and so we stuck these nicknames to each other, that we stopped calling us by their names: we were EXPENSIVE (even I signed my box with diskettes - the customers were scared: they thought that my services were at higher prices, but the story wasn’t about that ...) Once with the ROAD, we were in a terrible hurry somewhere and were catching a car. All such mannered tinted 99th stopped us. At the wheel - a person of Caucasian nationality. Smiling joyfully, the face said that it would take us anywhere and for free, if it was on his way. It turned out - along the way. We sat down with the road as usual: I am in the front seat next to the driver, and DEAR is in the back. My dear and I got such a dialogue: - Darling, why do you always put me in the front seat? - Because you always look good ... - Darling, you flatter me again ... All day, you flatter me ... For the rest of the way, a person of Caucasian nationality did not smile and did not utter a word, but when we arrived at the house and got out of the car, saying the thank you on duty, there was a cry: - Wait ... Don’t be afraid (seeing our surprised faces) - I don’t need anything from you, just say: after all, which of you is flattering ?!
Large potato, small potato
We were at a training camp last summer (students attend such classes at a military department) in a military unit near Sablino. So, there was such a barn where vegetables and canned food for soldiers are stored. There were four huge boxes for potatoes with the following inscriptions (from left to right): "large potato", "medium potato", "small potato" and "potato farm" Ruchey "." PS: Sorry, maybe not funny, but true.
Thank you Vaso!
I had a car in 92, my native 2106, 1600, all affairs, diplomat. Adored her direct strength was not. But sometimes she wedged on trifles. Somehow I leave the office hours at 8 pm. There is nobody on the street (case in St. Petersburg, Rzhevka, Kosygin Avenue). I get in the car - do not start. The battery is dead. I took off my jacket with pockets, pushed it down (I was parked in my pocket), jumped into it - almost grabbed it. She pushed her back into the mountain, again down, jumping - well, she almost grabbed it! Again it up the hill (but already more slowly), down, jump, almost! He took off his shirt, dragged it, blushing, backwards, up the hill, pushed, jumping, no words how close it was. I stand, sweat is pouring. Here, behind, in a soft voice: - Brother, there is no strength to look, eat a tomato. I look around, look - man, from Azerbaijan or Dagestan, young, with a tomato. - Thank you, I say, could you help me? - No, just eat a tomato, I can’t help, we are arguing for money for you! Ok, I think, damn the life of a toadstool, again pushed, jumping into it - fuck! Then I freaked out, back her, with my foot in the face, cursing at her, down into her, fuck! Back, I got ready to push the current - there was a stomp behind: three guys and the same one with a tomato from a stall with wild faces: - Sit down, shout, sit down, push, Vaso's money ran out !!! He sat down, got started, left, thank you, Vaso!
Mr. in glasses
I had a friend Lucy. She is a very sociable girl. And very brave. Because when he arrives home in the evening, he walks from the metro. Often she goes with someone in the company so that it is not so scary. And so, one day she walks home through the darkness of Izmailov, and next to her - a seemingly decent gentleman, about thirty-five, with a briefcase and glasses. They go, chatting about this and that. Suddenly, conversation topics end. An alarming pause hangs, which all stretches and stretches. Ten minutes. Finally, a fellow traveler suddenly asks, with such a cunning, Leninist: “Do you know what is in my briefcase? .. Lucy was frightened. Does a person have anything in a portfolio? I don’t even want to think about it. The mister in glasses, not waiting for an answer, smiles mysteriously and says: - Bu-brains are different ...
There was a teacher in our school. She taught physics. She was already far away as a retirement age and had already heard poorly. But she was emotional, she always spoke with expression and was very fond of showing with her hands what she was talking about. Naturally, everyone often made fun of her; she gave plenty of reasons. She once explained to the class how neutron bombs are bombarded by uranium nuclei and how they are split. Showing in her hands how the nucleus behaves, she says: - The nucleus is bombarded with neutrons. And so, under the influence of blows, it begins to stretch. And so it stretches, stretches, stretches, and ... Then, looking around the class, she pauses, as if searching for words to express her thought. At this moment, somewhere from the back of the desk can be heard quite loudly: - X ## to! - Yes! - says the physicist, and with such relief that this is exactly the word she was looking for. Indeed, how else can the uranium nucleus split? The class lay for twenty minutes laughing at the desks.
Bill Gates. Microsoft Creation
I was at a book fair yesterday. Different shops and publishers sent their representatives there. The room is small, and the people are full. Books are not only on representative tables, but also in drawers. Moreover, they are sorted more or less by topic: a box with cookbooks, a box with fiction, etc. ... I go up to the next box and see what kind of books there are. The first thing that catches your eye - "Bill Gates. The Creation of Microsoft." Well, I think, what kind of topic? Computers or biographies? I look at the next book - "Famous Psychopaths" ...
Clap, you sho ?!
We were once with a friend Zhenya in the glorious city of Kiev on the student line in the year 1984. Among other attractions, we visited the Bessarabian market. Eugene - he is a southern man, with Odessa roots, he decided to buy feta cheese, which at that time was not found in our northern Estonian lands ... We went to my aunt, asked how much it cost, asked for 500 grams, we get the money. Suddenly we see - the grandmother was somehow bewildered, right in the face changed: - Hloptsi, vi sho ?! Now we are perplexed: - And what is it? And here the aunt gives out: - ... A-O-O-TORGOVA-A-ATSYA ??!
I tell you from the very beginning. A friend of mine (served together in Mozdok) said that it would be nice to meet. I wanted to surprise him. He’s a big man there, repairs buses, built a two-story house on credit in five years, bought a car, but did not get married. By hook or by crook collecting documents for a visa for three weeks (gave for it a half thousand, including various insurance), I began to read reviews of those who were already there. It is disappointing. Bread is expensive, meat is expensive, vodka is all the more so. I scooped up a full bag of stew, 1 liter bottle of vodka (no longer possible), a block of strong cigarettes and the last money (a total of 8200 rubles). Dismantled and greased the gun, its parts and cartridges hid between the banks. I also took a raincoat, a pack of matches, hooks, a fishing line and a backpack, so that it was convenient to carry. I got to Moscow. The same dumpster as five years ago. Unclear, the cops at every turn, but they don’t seem to pester. I arrived at the embassy, filed documents, they said to wait until the day after tomorrow. I slept twice on the roof of the house closest to the embassy; I had to cut the lock with a hacksaw. He ate stew and tried to be quiet. Moscow after all. At midnight, he arrived at the embassy. Wow, they gave a visa (and the Fuhrer had angry faces at the interview, I thought they won’t give it). Just got out, I was surrounded by various freaks selling bus tickets. It was necessary to save money, therefore, after two hours having dragged them around << offices >>, I bought a ticket to Berlin and back. They wanted to rip off four thousand, to the offices >> but they got the hell out of it, paid three and a half, though they promised that they would drop me right on the border with Poland. Said no problem. They asked how I would get to Berlin. He showed a raincoat, spoke about the stew. Surprised. It’s as if some rich people went to Germany on a bus. Strange Check out in two hours! I bought another bottle of vodka to make it more fun to go to the border. Traffic jams in Moscow, Mozhaysk, then Minsk (there was no inspection), then Grodno. Stop at the customs. They said that Belarusians would watch, then the Poles. I went to the toilet (Belarusian territory). Entrance 300 rub. Came out. Went to the bushes. Then he found out that 300r Belarusian, ours less than 5r. Freaks. Announced another 160r of some environmental charges from the nose. Refused to pay. We started the landing procedure from the bus. I paid. At customs (fun!) Things do not inspect! The sawn-off shotgun could not be disassembled, but pick up a full bag of cartridges, covering with rags on top. Belarusians did not look at the bags at all, and the Poles asked to open and close immediately. I bought more vodka in the Duty Frey (expensive, about 250 rubles) and immediately drank it, ate stew (the local snack is too expensive). Then I remember badly, they woke up only in Poland. Fed with soup and potatoes with meat. Delicious. At the German customs they looked only at the passport. Do not drop off, as promised, drove to Berlin. Went there, near the station. Surprise. The saleswoman in the bookroom searched for a long time Lorup (my friend lives there) and said (wrote on a piece of paper) 400km. In German, I have no boom-boom, just like she is in Russian, so I couldn’t explain how to get there. Gave a card. Gave her a can of stew in return. She refused a pack of cigarettes. After an hour of debate (in the end, a Russian went there), a ticket kiosk found out that a ticket costs more than seven thousand one way. Freaks. He said that I would walk. He asked with a pen to draw a route, they perished for a long time, but they drew. Potsdam Brunswick Hannover Bremen Lorup. For almost 6 days I overcame this route, along with a rest and food. He tried to stay close to the road, not to show himself in public. Having passed the first kilometer, he plunged into the forest. Collected a sawn-off shotgun. Went on. At night I slept in a raincoat, did not make a fire (it was warm). The easiest way was to get from Brunswick to Hanover, where a fellow traveler threw me up (I understand that standing with a raised hand along the highway is useless, I just knew in Brunswick how to move on, and the man explained with signs that he was going there and gave a ride). The greatest difficulty arose immediately after. After 10km from Hanover, I ended up with stew. There was nothing to eat, but after another 10 km I accidentally stumbled upon a lake in the town of SteinНude. After searching a bit, I found some pretty worms and a solid stick. The fishing rod was ready. There are a lot of fish in Germany and it's easy to catch it. Having made a small fire, I prepared the fish, ate, and prepared the rest for the future, and was about to put out the fire when a man in jeans and a backpack came running. He proved something for a long time, sprayed with saliva. When he realized that I didn’t understand anything, he explained with signs that his name was Baur. I realized that the topic is stupid and did not introduce myself. I tried to persuade me to show my passport, I said that you can’t make a fire. He pointed to the prepared fish, almost cried. I did not want to listen to him, I was about to leave. He did not let me in. He took out his wallet, showed 100 euros, began to prove to me that I owe them to him. I pushed him away (I once fought with racketeers in my town, I have experience). Went around the lake. After about 500 meters, I heard a shot behind me. He lay down, dug in as best he could, took out a sawn-off shotgun, charged it. I’m watching, there are two, the one who was yelling at me, the second one younger and with a face like (son, probably). The people are not prepared, they run ten meters away from me, and they don’t see, they didn’t even reload the gun, and the gun is Lohovskoye, it’s charged with salt to the campaign. He ran to the older one, knocked down the butt, took the gun. Young warned, fell to his knees. In Russian, neither boom boom. But they realized that I’ll shoot if they twitch. He began to cry, the wallet threw me. Yes, I was not going to beat them, they climbed into trouble. He still took the money with the gun (he threw the gun later). I attached these fagots to the tree with a fishing line so as not to twitch. I ran in 15 minutes to Hagenburg, a small town. I bought new trousers (there was almost 200 euros in Baur’s wallet), a jacket, went to the local hairdresser, shaved, shaved baldly. He gave the rest of the money to the taxi driver; he drove me to Melle. It was not on the road, but still closer. Then Baur’s money ran out, and I was not going to spend mine on a taxi. Well, after another one and a half days I reached Drugan. On the way, the fish ended, which I caught, but in the local forests there are a lot of hares, they shot a little. For two weeks we drove to water parks, smoked drugs in the Netherlands (she’s nearby, and the customs post is not guarded), took off her aunts and generally felt great. And then he took me back to Berlin on his Mitsubishi. It’s not interesting to talk in detail, on the one hand I don’t remember everything, on the other they met me exactly as friends should meet me. Russians will understand me. General opinion: everything that is written about Germany is nonsense. They don’t really need money for life, there are much more suckers than ours, they clean better on the streets, and only freaks drive cars. It seems that if on their highway put a limit of 5 km / h, then they will ride like that. In general, it reminds me very much of my native Kaluga, only much cleaner (although if our janitor pays as much money as the Fuhrer pays for his own, he will begin to clean the language of the street). There are only wooden houses, and all have plastic windows. And another friend said that the state gave him a refrigerator. We would be so. He presented him with a sawn-off shotgun, he laughed like a child. Back riding the bus without incident. Fed in Poland again with the same soup. In Belarus, I ate with my own money. Back at customs, the Belarusians shuffled well, although they would not have noticed the sawn-off shotgun anyway. He brought back one and a half thousand. Mom cried with joy. Soon back to the factory. I won’t go anymore. Boring there, the correct ones are all too much.