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DAYNER OF DIRTY PONY.
November 18 Today my mother taught me to write. I'm writing bad, but I'm trying. Papa n. (Further illegible) selected the drum. Tonight I'll eat his hunk of elite hay (I know where the reptile is hiding). November 19th All day there was diarrhea. To write not to the magician On November, 21st the Pope has told, that it is time to pile hooves. The family does not have a bubble. We put the icebreaker. It's cheaper. The whole evening itched for hooves. Crying. December 15 The guys in masks came. They took my mother. Long looked at me. Mom was taken away on a butterfly with the inscription "Circus". The rest of the day he listened to the "Leaving Noone" of the Beatles. He thought a lot and cried. Dad stuck up late. All in someone else's dung and pretty drunk. He said he was at the presentation. I know his presentation. Again, with Peg and the Brown-haired Kaurka, they went to the racetrack to watch from the fence to the overseas mares. Igo-th. I saw those in pictures in my father's magazines. Like. He was excited. December 21 We brought my mother. On the head are feathers. I was addicted to cigarettes, only fed by hand (fu, with hoofs). Eats (sorry mom) current lollipops. On the ass (sorry mother, Burka-hooligan taught) fitted some kind of leather crap, such as a chair. One uncle sat on his mother and said "BUT !!!". MAMA HELD WITH CHELAVEKS !!! I decided that the family for me is no longer a fundamental tool in my life space (peeked in the encyclopedia of horse breeding). The first time I drank the swamp water, which my father forgot on the table. Igo, the yoke. Crapped. December 27 I'm Pony. I realized it only today. Burka-hooligan for 2 years younger than me, but grew up already on 3 heads. Found the word suicide in the newspaper. I thought a lot. I listen to Budenny's marches. I notice behind myself informal judgments. Decided to stamp the anarchy and the patient. We need butterflies. I grow a mane. He started to smoke. I carry masturbating tobacco from my mother. Burka taught me how to score. We smoke together. Mom-anarchy, papa-glass of manure. Daddies do not have a home for the third day. December 31 Today is the New Year. The folder came with Blackhound Kaurka and Pegim. All the buoys. He pulled out a chirik from him. Finally I'll make a pacifier. Mom died. From overdose of sugar candies. Uncle on a butterfly arrived. What is a meat cannery? I'll look in the encyclopedia. Bitch, Burka-hooligan, made from a necessary page a joint. They did not unwrap it. They smoked. Sorry mom. January 1 Tonight we will go to the teluham from the neighboring stall. Burka-hooligan promised to show udders. I'm glad in advance. I used to see the current in the pictures. I'm screwed. January 4 I fell in love. My name is Murka. Ass, what you need. Udder - you can not grab four hoofs. I sucked for the first time. The boys really laugh. Che what. Looked Terminator. I thought a lot. Arnie - you're a real horse. January 10 Murka - was a cow. Boys, you n. (Further illegible). The Hare Krishnas were baptized. Took to read a little book. Kama Sutra. Everything, nah, I'm going there. Banana, the daughters, the points on the forehead. I want you. In the ass world. I want a war! The Taliban are a fire! I called New York. Threatened. January 16 An account came from New York. The druangs say that my father drove all over town. I was looking for. I was hiding in the shed at the Tropuni-dead. We talked. It turns out a good guy. It was he who drove the droves, where his father chopped them. Nekrasov wrote with him. Tprunya said so. A little boy with bridles has been dead for a long time. How many years ago? January 20th, Tepunya, a bitch, lied to everyone. Scientists infected him in childhood with anthrax. Type for the experiment. Hardly got out. True brains are not left. Tropunya is down and sucker, and pi .. (further illegible) is foldable. I will be more attentive to friends. February 02 What a crap. Burka hooligan is skinhead. Today I'll talk to him. March 14 Two days ago I left the coma. I can write. The truth is trembling hooves. I do not remember much. Papa sent his friend with a broadcast. Murdered, probably half gobbled up on the road. Or changed it. Silo stale. He gives yagel. I know that. He used to be a deer before. Changed the orientation, bitch. Said daddy's busy. Like, I got a job. We lit up. It turns out that Dad bothers the cart. Batya is a rapper. He puzzled over the laughter. March 15th. Batya is a loader. I carry carts. I thought. March 23 Write. Pripsya daddy in a smart papo. He said that we will go to the zoo. Come on. Some clown-freak poked his finger at me and yelled that he would write a song about me. I remembered the current that the girls' ponies roll, the ponies of the boys are skating. I told him that when I grow up I'll kick his ass. He did not say aloud. I love children. On March, 24th, Dad's kicked my asshole today. I discovered that I ate up his hunk of elite hay. My dad is a molecular freak. Every molecule of it is perverted. Again, rested against thumping with buddies, half-dozen khu. (Further illegible). I'm going to work. April 10th. Today, with my new friend Sivka and his dudes (lying in the clinic together) we went to the Matrix. Disassembled. I want to learn kung fu. Fell in love with Pythia. When I grow up. I'll find and fuck. Wrote a verse: Oh, Pythia is the flower of my garden Not everyone is given biscuits to bake And if you, wow, wake up very happy. Ready to pile ass jumping. I want to send her. We need an address. I asked Bati if there were any African couples in our family. So what. I started writing Wachowski brothers. I did the tattoo on the right hoof: Pythia - I'm yours !!! R.S. Sivka is hereditary down. His grandfather raised kangaroos. Who are kangaroos? April 14 I'm looking for a job. Offer any x .. (hereinafter unintelligible). Which one of me is the CFO? When I was a lady, a gypsy stuck. We talked. I found myself near the taxi terminal. The silver-plated bells have gone off, the sway. Forever disowned the concepts of "camp" and "herd". April 25 Today a type approached the streets and asked if I would like to work in an interesting Internet project. He called the address. Animallovers.com. I was under the buzz (I washed the tanks at the brewery today) and I said that I agree. He said he will. What a fucking project. Ahead of May 1. Agreed with Sivka to remove the teluh. 1st of May. He put on a red bandana. I'm a communist after all. Power of the lights and no cops, on. Sivka put on the mask of Chapaev's horse. Well, fuck, Chapaev's horse, you can not tell. Said a relative from the hillock sent. Dissident of the heirs. Urine of the bourgeois. Teluhi disappeared by themselves. Marriages of current for love. I love Lenin. But I do not speak out loud. SRs around. May 2 ATP-nicknames freaks. So the liver was repulsed, that the second day to rise not to the magician. I try not to include electrical appliances and light. Mschu Chubais. Sivka crawled. I told him that I was taken to heat in the Urals. Aly slipped away. To hell such communism. I will become a Russophile, a Tolstoyan, a clear-eyed person. May 16 Two spirits and a huntsman came with them. They brought battle. He showed them a split hoof (my mother gave birth is difficult). Have looked. They rusted their debt. They said they'd go in for something like a belyash (ticket of this type). May 17 Freaks, it turns out I'm not fit for growth. And in the airmen? There our guys die, and I'm here? Made the list: 1. Buy a bar 2. Do not piss on you May 24 What a pythia fuck. Nicole Kidmyn - this is a woman. Cruz - you screwed up, Loharik. It's May now. The target posibl. Presented: Nicole and I are Kidmyn and the Horse. May 25-26 Departed from excessive influences of different alcohol on 24th. (On the road, the car with vodka turned upside down, drove soft-boiled, the passengers in general can not yet be found, but the vodka is almost all the rest.) We did not even have a whole body with Sivka. They say that in the accident, Trojan is to blame. However, what about the bad. Farewell, Tupun. June 1 is the Day of the Protection of Horses. Suck with Sivka like a pig. Let's go to the heifers on the farm. The ass hurts from salt. A hot water bottle does not save. Crying. June 18 McCartney rules unequivocally. I wrote to him on E-mail. Congratulations. What is Message Delievery Reort? And it's not that simple? 26 June. I called that type from an Internet project. He said to come the day after tomorrow. Agree? I thought I'd go. In the evening I did not drink. June 28 The first experience of oral sex. Dude - I'm a coming horse. The current is small. We were taken to a digital camera and to a movie. Said they will show on TV and campus. Gave a poster: Pony on Zoofeely.net I HAVE CONTACTED WITH HUMANS. It's from mom. I thought about suicide. Saved butterflies, caring laid me in a blanket. I'll go and buy a beer. July, 12. Magical green butterflies. I did not think that enough is enough. They have a wonderful property to reproduce. (Sivkin's ancestors over the hill flew with Shapito, he taught them how to change). Humans are dibils. You give one - you get ten. The stallion looks like a piece of beef. The whole district here was moving. Even Burka was a hooligan. He now works in a mentovka. Patrol. Maza is for the future. And where are the documents for the house? July 16 Came from menura. Have shown ksive. Type of my kennel prevents the construction of an important strategic object. Have asked to show documents on a living space. Where's Daddy? July 20 The fifth day at the station I live. I saw Kaurka, a black-skinned man. He said that my daddy had thrown my hoof 2 months ago. Methyl alcohol from a can at the chemical plant was ripening. Yes, and potatoes from McDonald's. And ecology is also not important. I'm sorry, dad. September 1st Ass. Cold blah. And Th I'm not a musk ox. Now would have grown hair and not steamed (not merz in the meaning). September 7 I got a job at a refinery. Daddy's ties are former. He was juggling at a party of some "Yukas" or riding a bicycle. I'm shorter than some type of their important, Khodarkovsky that-whether, attached the trolleys with the workers to pull up to the tower. What they do is not clear. Just in case, I draw Burke-hooligan into the cops. September 11 I fell in a vat of fuel oil. Spruce was pumped out. Now I'm black. I read Tolkien. I decided to become a dark force. I feel an asshole, it will not work. 20 November. I'm breathing guys .. Hey, dude, testament left in the blanket.
Timur Mikhalych and his dacha.
I have a friend. A good friend like that, Aybolitich's name. Why? Yes, because something like something. So he actually works in one trading company, not very large, but very solid. A feature of his work is that the owner of the company Timur Mikhalych, at the same time its director and his father-in-law. Well, you know, career growth is determined, everything is good for the guy. But I wish you to believe he married not because of his career and not because of money. He is from a very wealthy family, he had everything. And the wedding was for love, still live happily, which in the future they wish. So, it was this winter. At Айболитыча with Марринкой 2 years of wedding, the holiday was planned with scope. There were three days off because of some holiday, the middle of December was in general. All the fun gathered at the dacha at Mikhalych. And with Timur I skorrefnilsya even before the wedding, and even during the wedding with this most glorious man, we became friends more in my opinion more than with Aibolytych. On the holiday, apart from relatives, only the closest friends of the family were present, among the three people: Timur's spicy friend in Afghanistan, Alena Marina's friend and me friend and all =) Day One 6 cars arrived at the fence: a sixth gray audi with Aybolitichem, Marinka and her friend Alena, bey X5 with siblings Aybola, Lincoln navigator with the brothers Marina and their wives, folk Turan with their ancestors along the Aibol line, the merin mebek with their ancestors along the line of Marina and the Tuareg with already pretty drunk me and Spicy and smoked Timur . The gates opened, everyone stopped in a very spacious courtyard, in which stood two houses, a bath, a garage for three cars, another old garage, littered with all kinds of garbage, and several other buildings. All this was located on a very decent square, and therefore it was more like an old manor. Kada all came out, Timur proclaimed: "So, Rodney !!! So all unload and quickly for the work. To eat the hunt, uzhos. >> As he was eager to eat the duck, only two Marinka brothers, who crouched like battle horses before a regimental mare, understood: "To eat, eat, eat, eat." All the cars were left on the street, because Mikhalych did not want to give out someone in the family. The garage was empty. It brought in all the drinks, in giant quantities, as well as all kinds of non-perishable food. While in the kitchen a woman's half prepared all sorts of dishes, the male half in the number of 12 people with interest watching the burning in a two-meter barbecue birch logs was warming up who than what. The weather allowed. The old men were fooling around at the table. Marina's brothers poured dry and pork with a sausage and sausage, Spryn and I effectively practiced vodka, having a snack with wonderful mushrooms, Timur Mikhalych, standing a little aside, preferred a mineral water and a long pipe. When the coals came, and the table was already pretty tightly stuffed with a fagot, Only me and Spicy stayed near the brazier, the rest opened the feast. Since we were almost into gagno, the rolling of the skewers brought us many troubles. First mangal pachemu somehow staggered, and in the second skewers were about 30 pieces and keep track of them and sober it was not easy. When the shish kebab was combined in two light pots, in the house instead of << Come on pour already >>, << bitterly >>, and other fucking suddenly there were female cries << Oh, fuck, fuck! Again, he broke the roof. Well fucked !!! Oh, fucking !!! >>. Together with the front door of the house, as in steep action films, Timur flew to the street. He had a very strange outfit: a camouflage suit complemented with sandals, a cap from an Indian leader brought from somewhere in America with a bunch of feathers and a sports bow. "Brothers, we are on the path of war." - You Th, Timur, what a foul path? We've already prepared a shish kebab with Kostyanych. "We'll need food, go to that tepee," said Mihalych, pointing to the garage. "All right, dick with him," Spicy whispered to me, "we'll follow him, or the dick of him knows what to expect under the plan, maybe we, like traitors, fucking Schach, we'll smoke the peace pipe with him, and he'll calm down, garage, Timur pulled out several logs and built a fire. "Cook, brother," said Mikhalitch, handing me the receiver. Having smoked, Spencer and I bore. What was there I fuck know, but even under vodka we stuck decently. Five minutes later, Spiny and I had already built two spears and began to sharpen the arrows. - You blasphemy here do? - Timidly pale, Timur exclaimed, shooting from the bow in Pasha, Marina's brother. The arrow dug into the garage wall to the left of his head. He turned pale and saw Timur aiming for the second time, quickly fucked. - Hide your squaw! Mihalych exclaimed after him. "We'll be right behind your scalps soon!" I must say that the pale-faced ones prepared perfectly. When we got out of the garage, two hunting rifles and several men were already sticking out in the windows. "Timur, fuck it, we'll shoot back." "It will not help you, pale-faced." This is our land, the spirits of our ancestors will help us. - Shit, Timur, what kind of ancestors, fuck, it's me, your dad, I'm not yet spirit. We have guns, we are more and we are in cover. "Do not lie, pale-faced, we'll smoke you out of there." The more you, the more scalps. We began a slow detour around the house on the flank. The house began to be confused. Timur with Spicy according to plan had to go into the house from the back door, and I had to drive the opponent out of the shelter as far as possible from him, so that we could take a more advantageous position. At a time when Pasha with an arrow in his ass flew out of the house with the scream of a woman in childbirth, Spicy wailed wildly in the house such chaos and fear that the people ran from cover without waiting for a personal meeting with the Mangikans. The second, strangely enough, fucked Timur's father, hardened in the battles of the Second World War between the others, with a metal tray in one hand and a hammer in the other. Then all the others jumped out. A spicy with Timur victoriously throttled. The retreating men made a terrible mistake: they locked themselves in the garage. Now there were no ways of retreat and they were already one less. The only door opened into the courtyard, the gate and two windows were also viewed from our side. An hour passed for which we had a snack, than God sent, at the request of the besieged, led the wounded Pasha from the battlefield, providing him with bandaging materials and locked up with the women's team in the cellar and again smoke the peace pipe. "You can not leave them there at night." They can think of something, I know the pale-faced, they are very dangerous, "Timur said. "We need to smoke them from there." (God - why did I say that?) It was decided to throw them with incendiary arrows. Unfortunately, one of the arrows hit a jar of paint, as was discovered later. They did not succeed in extinguishing the fire and they asked for mercy. Timur looked sweetly at the blazing garage. For some reason he was very pleased with this spectacle. Spicy and I tied the prisoners and danced around the dance of death. "We burned their temple, they will not dare attack us." Their gods turn away from them. Further words of Mihalich were drowned out by a wild roar. When the roar stopped. Voices from behind the gate began to scream so that we opened the gate. But it was not there. We said that the pale faces were cleaned, and they themselves prepared for defense. But suddenly strange wizards with yellow people climbed over the gates and began to water everything with water. Timur vainly spent all the arrows to bring down people from high gizmos. But not one arrow hit the target. - Yes, this asshole shoots us from the bow !!! They all fucked up there, drift? Call the cops! Arriving policemen found already unplugging three Indians, sitting in a dirty black puddle in front of the smoldering remains of the garage. Near the circle sat eight prisoners palefaced. The cops promised that they would take the prisoners and leave in peace. But we were convinced that pale faces can not be trusted, they pinned us down and took us inside the iron horse. Day Two Waking up in a familiar room, not at all surprised by this fact, I got up, got dressed and went to the bathroom. In the corridor, I met with a concerned look of Alyona. Boshka was buzzing, which was remembered yesterday with fragments. Under the shower, summarizing the obtained pieces of memory, concluded that we were drunk in a war game played. Here, I think, ate that. Is it necessary? He went down, opened the freezer, took out the sweated bottle. He drank a glass. I lit a cigarette, it became better, but to fully come to my senses I needed a pig. There was no one in the house. Well, blaspheme, I'll go into the garage. He threw on some kind of jacket, got into his shoes. I've left home. In the yard there is a skating rink, and the ice is black. Garazh fucked, in the gazebo sit the peasants and drink. - Here it is, fuck! Look! - Hello, but what's this? - Nitsche, yopta, Chingachgook. Who fucked up the fiery bullets yesterday? "What arrows, are you?" He came up and slipped the beer into his hands. He sat down and lit a cigarette. Then the people began to tell all the details of what happened yesterday. When I burst into hysterical laughter, Timur went out into the street. "Oh, yopta, leader!" God of war, his mother. My father almost killed him yesterday - fuck, Dad? - Nitsche, fuck. Less needing to smoke your muck. Absolutely without a tower. Timur poked, looked at the garage. Apparently his face twisted, apparently under the influence of memories. He walked over and sat down next to me. After half an hour of stories, we found out that our grandfathers bought us from the cops for a box of vodka. Spicy on the porch of the second house. Pasha was drinking standing up. Female population, tried not to appear on the street. Closer to dinner, all pretty hung over stretched to continue the holiday. Everyone was seated at the table, the young ladies had already stepped aside from yesterday's evacuation in the basement. Began a banal booze. Again toasts one by one, again the puppy. Again fun. Again, everyone is drunk. Next to me sat Valera, Aibol's brother. A man from the ranks of biker-fans. We decided not to disturb the people, to prolong the conversation that interested me about bikes on the porch. I took with me a bottle of vodka, a slalt bowl, two piles and a fork. They conspired before the battle ended, and when I came for the second, Timur and Spry looked at me, cheerful and drunk, and apparently deciding that I was bored at the table, they decided to go to the porch with me. Probably see what there is so interesting. Hearing that the conversation was about motorcycles, Timur suddenly missed out on the fact that in his childhood he also drove decently. And when he began to tell Valera about how he fucked from the cops of the Soviet period at a speed of about 180 km / h on the Urals, he doubted the truthfulness of Michalich's speeches. Mikhalych was a man of principle. - You Th, salagat? Do not trust? "I do not believe it, Timur Mihalych." - Well, you're fucking good And we'll follow after us. We approached the old garage, when Timur opened the gate, we saw the heaps of all rubbish, in which Valerie groped for two motorcycles: Java and the Urals. - I certainly do not know how they are. I have not approached them for ten years, but should be on the move. "We'll see now." Valera was entrenched in the garage. We podtukali him for twenty minutes, well, and decided to leave the master, enthusiastically sorting out motorcycles. In the evening Valera tumbled into the house. We did not have time to tumble into the mind, and Valera, having drunk a glass of white, said: - Well, everything, both on the go. Of course your wheels are good, Uncle Timur, but they will not do it. - And we'll check this shchaz. Two bodies were loaded onto the motorcycles: one with Spicy, the other with poor Valera with Timur. By the rink, left after extinguishing the fire, we rolled out onto the road. The road went into the horizon. "Look, yopta." We shchaz blast off, like the Falcons of the Fur. "We were driven, Timur. I was skating the last time before Afgan, "said Spicy. We went to accelerate. The road was straight and long. On the sides swept the fields, villages, pillars of the fucked pieces. The point is played by a crooner. - Fuck it, Spicy. Good, we already have a hundred-fifty on a speedometer !!!! - What? Kostyan, such a hueta above eighty is not overclocked. This speedometer is broken. !!! - Are you sure?!?! - Yopta, offended! We are on par with Timur. Timur smiled defiantly. The speedometer was 170 km / h. Valera, frantic with the wind, tried to make a smile. I tried to control myself. But then I saw a dangling cable on the next motorcycle. - tIIIImuUUUUR !!!!!!!! - hOOOOOOO ???? - тООООрмООООзААААА !!!! - hOOO zAAAAA ???? - тООООрмООООзААААА !!!! - nAAAAHUUUUU ???? - NEEEEEEUUUUIIIIIh UUUU vaAAAAAAS !!!!!! - dAAAAA EbAAAAnIIIS !!!!! - etoi mishi shiAAAAz EbAaAneOOOOOuSiaAAAA !!!!!!! Timur slightly lowered the gas. Slowly fucked on the brake. There was no effect. He jerked the brake. No impact. Valery ohuyshy from such a cheerful incident, recoiled from Timur. At this moment, he apparently thought that even if they survive, Timur will kill him fuck. ETOGES it was necessary to check everything. And forget about brakes. From such a fucking ride all instantly sobered up. The speed decreased by 20-30 kilometers. But Timur did not dare to fall. Ahead was a crossroads behind which a white field was visible. - Right now, cross the intersection, in the field we will quickly brake. - Okay, we're behind you. We drove to the crossroads. And then fucking from where the wagon takes off. There were only two options: either to gasen and have time to slip through, or to gas. Collapse at this speed was unrealistic. Since Mihalych had no brakes, accordingly, the choice disappeared. I had to add more. And so we sweep through the crossroads at the speed of death. Timur went to the field, we were parallel to them were driving to the right. On the field, the speed for some reason did not lose much. We began to slow down and here it comes to us. - It's the same fucking lake !!!!!!!! - Fuck !!!!!!!!!!!!! Valera waved his hands. I took this as a farewell forever. But suddenly I realized that he was not waving to us, but to the fucked fishermen. Those ohuevali from such impudence. Some kind of fag with a crash on a motorcycle rushes through their fished place of catching. Clev is frightening them. -nAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-hUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUy !!!!! came from the lake. The fishermen rebounded from the approximate trajectory of our comrades' travel, realizing that you do not turn around on the ice. And then I saw something fantastic: the lake ended in a rise. You understand the shore yourself. Have you ever seen the process of launching an artificial Earth satellite? And I am! Timur flew about 6 meters and on parabola entered a snowdrift of the same size, the motorcycle went lower, fucked on the snow and rolled further Valere was least fortunate. Since he acquired the same acceleration as Mikhalych, and weighed less than two times, he protested much higher and much farther and with a wild roar plopped down into the young fir grove. I ran through the snow to Timur, Spicy fooled Valerik. A whistle and a standing ovation were heard in the frosty air. I probably would have been laughing myself, if it were not my friends. Although even considering this circumstance, the smile broke through - So im piedam, nihuy drive like a mad !!!! - Well, fuck, ahuey savsem. All the fish scared away !! - But how shallow flew, eh? - Aha bogaga, eagle, fucking !! - What about fat? Already the ice trembled when he yobnulsya! - Bygagaga. Timur lay immovable in the snow on his chest. He was extremely fortunate that he entered the snow with his feet forward. For about five minutes I brought him to my senses. Kagda came to, looked at me with a questioning glance: - And you here then how ??? - Yopta, how, how ?? How far behind you ran. "Huyase, have you got the light of a traveler's train?" - Yeah, fuck. Lifetime subscription! You're a living fuck. - I do not feel my feet! - Well, I suppose I broke it. "The fuck knows." Come on, help me get out already, otherwise it's already cold. At this time, 20 meters (according to the story of Spicy). In the spruce forest, a strip was cut, as in the fall of a meteorite. Poor Valera lay on bent Christmas trees. The position of the body produced numerous injuries. - Fuck my mouth. - Mmmmmmmm. - Fucking fucked up - umuuuu - Ebanis - aaaaaagaaaa The fir trees were torn out by Spicy with the root. Picking Timur out of the snow, he checked for fractures. Since then, I call him the unharmed man. Timur was safe. Of course, everything was hurting him, but it did not seem to be broken. Spicy brought on Christmas trees Valera. To say honestly he looked unimportant. I ran to catch a wheelbarrow. Caught the old constipation. They asked to take the people who had gone to the hospital. Grandfather agreed for 100 rubles. We ourselves with Spicy fucked up on the whole motaka home for documents. Rushed fucking. The gate was open. We enter the gates. Spicy presses on the brake. Zero effect. We start killing on the ice. Here we understand that we do not have time to brake, but ahead, about twenty meters from the old garage. We jumped in one direction, into a snowdrift near the house. Landed like nothing. But the motorcycle proebashil gate, flew into the garage. We shook ourselves. All fucked up. - What happened? - Where is Timur? Where is Valera? - Pizza Valera, Timur like in the band. They're in the hospital. Take documents quickly and to the hospital. Girls: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAy, what the fuck is that ??? Aai !!! Ooops !!! Guys: Harosh yelling fools. Nobody kind of killed yet. From the garage, a loud clap of cotton, a few seconds later the garage was flamed. The garage crackled. I was neighing. I had a psychosis. Fifteen minutes later I was successfully brought to the house and unsuccessfully consoled by Alena, fucking vodka. After a while, Pasha and Spicy joined me. Pasha was drinking standing up. Alain kept trying to ask us what happened, we silently clinked. About five minutes later, Alena was sent to where she actually wanted. I woke up closer to eleven. He lifted the fucking from the table. Spicy was sleeping under the table. Pasha was drinking standing up. Timur was sitting opposite, silently fumbling tequila. "Well, what about him?" - Yes, blasphemy? It's good that he was drunk in shit. Of physical injuries, three fractures. Leg left in two places and right arm in forearm. But morally killed to death. The motorcycle just will never sit again. His whiskey turned gray. "Shit, I'd probably turn gray all over." Silently clinked, Spicy woke up. Deciding, apparently, that this world is not as beautiful as one would like, this two-meter monster poured into itself the remnants of Tequila and fell back. - Бля, а про гараж мне рассказали, пиздец я ржал. - Да бля, я сам рыдал в истерике. В разговор вступил Паша: - Вы то еще ладно. Вы бы знали как ржали пожарники, когда приехали на оч ередное пожарище. Кто-то им рассказал про ваши приключения на озере. Они просто в истерике тушили. - Дааааа Менты не приезжали? - Приезжали. Посмотрели на все это поганище. Поржали, забрали два ящика водки и уехали. - Суки!!! - Бля, вам срок могли дать за такую хуйню? - Кто? Эти обормоты? - Well yes. - С ними майор был? - Ага. - Усатый такой, да? - Ну. - Так это бля однополчанин мой бывший. Мы с ним и с Пряным весь Афган бок о бок прошли. Травы с ним тонну выкурили, а ты, посадят. Побухать им захотелось, вот водку и тарят. Ладно, впизду пошли спать День третий Проснулся я утром, рядом с Аленой. Она уже не спала. - Эх, ты.. Алкаш - Чо такое то? - Че, че? Допился Уж и не стоит бля - Да ладно не стоит? Ты вот сюда посмотри Я приподнял одеяло. Утренний стояк делал свое дело. Алена улыбнулась и хищно прыгнула на меня. Я охуел, такие пелотки попадаются не каждый день. Я в первый раз кончил минуты через две наверное. Перекурив мы продолжили. Минут через 10 еще палочка. Она подошла к зеркалу, нагнулась. Сигарета сама потухла. Я как увидел эту задницу в таком аппетитнов варианте, сразу же аж подпрыгнул. Минут через 10 еще палочка. Ну все, подумал я, хорош пора бы и в душик сходить. Направился туда, а она такая за мной. - Я с тобой. - Ок. Под душиком еще разок. Заебись утречко, подумал я. Оделся, спустился вниз. Народ уже завтракал. Я решил сперва прогуляться за пивком. Вышел на крылько, в зоне обзора виднелись два сгоревших строения. Зайдя в одно из них, обнаружил всего четыре ящика пива и один водки. Мысли путались, неужели можно выжрать стока водки за двое суток?? Если менты забрали три ящика. То мы получается должны были выпить столько же. Взяв обгоревший ящик в руки, попиздряшил в дом. В доме сидело все семейство. Завтракали кто чем. В дальнем углу закусывали Тимур и Пряный. Паша пил стоя. Женщины и поправлялись винцом. Старики фигачили коньячек. Поставив ящик напол, я присоединился к мужикам. Плотненько позавтракав, Тимур объявил банный день. Я с Пряным пошел топить баню. Баня была хороша. Два бассейна, один с ледяной водой метра три на три, другой 10 на 4 с теплой водой. Большой зал для отдыха. Две парилки, сауна, бильярдная с двумя ахуитительными столами. На втором этаже комнаты <<отдыха>> и спортзал. Заебатая в общем баня. Через два часа все протопилось. Правда большинство народу уже пережрало так, что баня им грозила сердечным приступом, посему они предпочли просто помыться. Самые стойкие же, отправились в парилки. В одной парилке сидели я, Тимур и Пряный. Паша стоял. Плотненько похуярив друг друга вениками, мы выбежали из парилки и хлюпнулись в ледяной бассейн. Когда красный Паша только прыгнул в воду, мы нырнули обратно в парилку. Паши долго не было. Выскочив из парилки во второй раз я только в рыжке заметил несчастного синего Пашу, дрожащими руками цепляющегося за перила уже у самого выхода. Нога то у него не шевелилась, а на одной ноге трудно было ему по скользкой лестнице скакать. Паша опешил. Я летел в него траектория была такова, что я просто обязан был его снести. Но Паша неожиданно пригнулся и я проехал по его спине жопой. Плюхнулся в бассейн, вынырнул. Потерпевший повернулся ко мне: - Бля, Костяныч, ну ты бы смотрел, куда прыгаешь то - Сорри Паш, я че-то так разогнался, что когда тебя увидел уже поздно было. - Ну ладно хуй с тобой. Вы че-то в этот раз все время сильно разгоняетесь. В этот момент я услышал хлопок и почувствовал пиздец. В Пашу влетел Пряный, соответсвенно в меня влетала уж общая масса. Я медленно уходил ко дну. Я понимал, что нужно всплывать, но ни руки ни ноги не шевелились. Вдруг кто-то меня дернул за ноги и вытащил вертикально вверх. Я видел здоровые исцарапанные ноги Тимура. - Может все-таки на пол то опустишь? - А, ну да, щаз. Ты как? - Ну вот теперь лучше. Правда говорят: <<Пиздец приходит незаметно>>. После парилки, мы дружно сидели в зале и хуярили анегдоты. Пиво и креветки были в избытке. Девчонки, еле прикрываясь простынками, танцевали под музыку. Щастье есть, подумал я. Хорошо, хоть и болит все, что пиздец - Алён, не хочешь в бильярдик поиграть? Шарики покатать? - Можно и поиграть. Только поднявшись на второй этаж, я неглядя кинул ее прямо на стол. Начал дерзко и жестко ебать. Некоторе время спустя я вытер член об простыню и прыгнул к милой. На меня сматрело довольное ебало владельца Навигатора Вити: - Хорошо ты ее отжарил. - Бля, кто это? - Не боись, Алён, щаз разберемся. Иди вниз принеси пару пива. - Good. Алена ушла. - Ну что, бля, онанист ебучий? Подрачиваем на чужие удовольствия? - Да ты че? Ты че? Ты кий то брось. - Бросаю. Кий попал ему прямо в башню по касательной. - Ты что же это? Where? A? Наверх поднялся Тимур. Схватил меня за руку и толкнул вниз. - Иди. Еще мне тут травм нехватало. Пиздуй. Я щаз сам поговорю. - Дядь Тимур, а может он останется? Парень понимал, что поговорив с Михалычем, его шансы уйти целым реально падают. Но я ушел. Сверху раздавались удары шаров о стенки. Михалыч решил поиграть в тир. Мы пошли еще раз попарились, помылись и пошли в дом. В доме до сих пор продолжалась пьянка. Старики уже пели какие-то песни. Женщины о чем-то сплетничали. Стандартное такое время препровождение. Ближе к шести часам вечера мы все собрались. Разбрелись по машинам, все закрыли и поехали. Отъехав от дачи на метров на двести Тимур вдруг покраснел и начал ржать. Мы с Пряным повернулись назад баня полыхала.