This page has been robot translated, sorry for typos if any. Original content here.

My Blog: jokes jokes stories funny

Cruising speed
On Saturday, I went to my country house in Komarovo, near St. Petersburg. On the lower highway. If in the know, then there, a few kilometers after the post in Lakhta, there is a rather high-speed section - right up to Lisiy Nos. That is what happened on it.
Seeing in the distance an approaching sign with the inscription St. Petersburg on a white background crossed out with a red stripe, I settled down comfortably and drowned the gas, leaving at my cruising speed (who does not know, I am on the public roads not hurried and speed 110-120 km / h quite enough). However, it was not there! After a few seconds, I caught up with a group of cars. In the right lane at a speed of 80 (it has the right!), The white five slowly move, and RAV4 goes flush with it in the left. The process of "overtaking" or "advancing" does not occur.
Behind the RAV'a backs up a powerful BMW with one of the latest models. Gradually, several more machines join us - VOLVO, OREL, 09 and so on. RAV still dangles next to the top five, then ahead of her on the floor of the case, then she is just a little distant. So we move a few minutes, I go behind the five, in the left lane - lined up a long tail of cars. The situation begins to heat up, the BMW driver to my left flashes his headlights continuously and waves his fist in front of the windshield. The left lane dangles like with strong agitation - everyone is trying to understand why in the place where they used to go 120-140-160 they have been trampling for about 10 minutes for 10 minutes. RAV once again rolls back almost equal to the boot of the five and starts to catch up again, BMW slows down its speed to calm its nerves and, taking advantage of the moment, I hit the left row behind the RAV and start flashing headlights (they are significantly higher than me BMW: -) and buzz. Zero emotion. We continue to roll. At this time, in the right lane, the red MAZDA is catching up on us and, at a completely frantic speed, sticks in for an instant the gap formed between the five and RAV. A fairly wag of the tail of the MAZDA cuts the RАV and carries it forward. RAV dramatically slows down, I do too, but smoothly and a little earlier, BMW is being braked behind. The driver of the RAV begins to feel that something is wrong and hastily goes to the right lane, while sending a white VOLVO (trying to follow the example of MAZD) to the right shoulder. Angry beeps are heard, RAV jumps back to the left lane, sending now to the left curb me, foolishly trying to seize the moment and outrun. In complete panic, RAV tries to overtake the top five and adds speed, but having pulled out somewhere half the body forward, decides that this speed (~ 90) is obvious overkill and starts to slow down again, but immediately discovers that BMW has almost come up against his back door. and the positions won (floor of the trunk of the five) is not going to pass. I prudently cleaned into the right lane, all lined up in the left, RAV'a shakes along the road, as in the hole ...
It is obvious to the driver of the five that it bothers, he goes ahead and the RAV is quickly rebuilt into the right lane. Pereprevshie foreign cars start to overtake him at a breakneck speed and ... Again, there was no such thing! Having missed 2 or 3 cars RAV jumps out into the left lane and powerfully goes to overtake the five. The glasses of the three people walking behind to overtake cars instantly sweat from the heat of emotions, and the RАV visibly sags on the highway from the gravity of the matyus folded on it. In the end, the RAV overtakes the top five and travels in the right lane of 100-110 km / h. When it is my turn to overtake him, I see the astonished face of a driver trying to understand why the tenth car in a row passes by with beeps and numerous gestures at the temple.
Amazed _zhenskoe_ face "driver" ...
I woke up early ...
I woke up early. He washed, ate, dressed and went to work.
When I got there, the car was busy at work.
He sat down next to the chair. I wanted to sleep a lot and fell asleep.
I wake up at home ... Wow, I think this is a dream.
Gathered, did something around the house, went to work. Came, turned on the computer, began to read the mail. I hear someone calling me.
I do not respond, well, them. I read on. Again name is. Again, do not respond. Behind the shoulder already trots. I snapped to that "jerk". And he read on. And suddenly I hear my wife's voice:
- Yes, you get up, asked to wake up early, and he also swear ...
And here I went nuts!
Scared little dog
Go down the street, two soldiers conscripts. Hard drunk, but still standing on their feet and able to see something. On the opposite side of the street a citizen walks a medium-sized dog. One of the soldiers offers another to argue that he can bite the dog by the nose. Crossing the street, the soldier, getting up on all fours, bites the dog by the nose. The dog breaks off the leash and runs away. A citizen with Russian folk idioms runs after her. After some time, a friend with a dog calculates the necessary military unit and complains to its commander about the misbehavior of his subordinates. Moved by righteous anger, the commander, before the punishment, put the soldier to apologize to the comrade. Soldiers come to the house, ring the doorbell. Behind the door a dog barks. The owner opens the door, the dog sees the soldier and jumps out of the 4th or 4th floor from the balcony ...
The owner had a heart attack.
Russian Canaries.
(Performed in the original language)
Howe ... this? Big, blue. how mache? Do you speak English? Spanish? Che, they spanish? Well, el moment. Uh ... Their bean to buy this. Zis - how dollar? Here, damn it, stupid. Ay vont zis! Zis! Come on, tanned, think!
Tie to bang in their own way, not telling, lisen here. Lisen here, I say!
Zis want! Zis, Zis and Zon! Bin bash them! Downout Underground? ONLY SPANISH? Hyundai hoh! Gyyyyy ... Joke, smile! Buy it, buy it all! To fail to understand? Mow, dark-haired? Cash, understend, cash? Yes, put your hands something! Ay em rush, re-laks! Niht shoot. Peace, friendship, dollars! Buy it all. Zuzamen, cash! Well? Hilton, Mui Ne: this blue with dolphins ... To own their bean! So! Faster legs, feet, dude, quick behind the hole, one leg is here, the other is chi! May neym from Pasha frome Lyubertsy, salam alaikum, firshteyn? And come on, frostbitten, lured already, start to understand Russian, turn on the counter!

Would kill a nigger-2.
Hotel Lac Togo is considered the best in Togo. He stands on the shores of the picturesque lake of Togo. However, in this wonderful hotel dollars have not changed. Credit card is also not taken. And as the nearest place where you can find a currency exchange, they called the city of Lome, from which I, in fact, came. After a two-hour conversation, I persuaded the administration to take the dollars from me and give the change in local currency, so that I could finally pay the taxi driver.
Having finally got into my room - with a luxurious European bathroom, cool air conditioning and satellite TV, I decided that the day was not easy, but all the troubles were over. I put all the money and traveler's checks into the bag, hung the lock with the cipher on the bag, took a shower, changed my clothes. Having closed the room with a key, I went for a swim in the heated pool (as stated in the hotel's avenue, although it is difficult for me to understand why I should heat water specifically, if it is outside and so is +30 more?).
I felt like a white man. He swam, sunbathed, stared at the black women in bathing suits. I ate plenty from the buffet in the restaurant. I watched tv series Helene and her guys in french.
Pawed at the orange-black lizards running around the hotel grounds. At bedtime, he took a pill of Lariam (an antimalarial drug).
From the instructions attached to the drug Lariam (Mefloquine):
The most frequent side effects are nausea, vomiting, systemic or non-systemic dizziness, imbalance, headache, drowsiness, insomnia, nightmarish dreams, soft stools, abdominal pain.
Less common: convulsions, visual disturbances, tinnitus, anxiety, anxiety, depression, loss of memory, confusion, hallucinations, impaired blood circulation, urticaria, itching, hair loss, muscle cramps, fever, chills, loss of appetite.
The authors of the instructions are somewhat exaggerated. From a long list I only got nightmares and hallucinations. Tropical lianas began to grow in the room, horrible insects and spiders appeared from nowhere, but fortunately, the dawn and morning of a new day came.
It was time to go to the bank.
The road to the bank was already familiar. And here is your favorite road sign. Only the guard next to him is different. And the doors of the bank, alas, are closed again.
- Works? - I asked (hope dies last).
- Not.
- Why?
- Ramadan.
- What is Ramadan? He is at another time.
- I do not know. I am a Christian, I do not care about these Muslim holidays.
I pulled the sleeve. The taxi driver explained to me that regardless of religious holidays and bank holidays, I have to pay him for the trip. Fortunately, I still had local banknotes. Even on the way back enough. We must return to the hotel, persuade the manager to change, explain the situation - I decided.
Alas, the meeting with the manager went according to a slightly different scenario. Because already in the hotel I was surprised to find that I had nothing to change. Peering into the purse with dollars (I kept the local papers in my pocket and wore a normal currency on my belt), I discovered that the dollars and traveler’s checks mysteriously disappeared. The manager explained to me that no one could steal my money at the hotel, because it is impossible, because it can never be. I probably lost them myself somewhere. He categorically refused to call the police.
Recalling the fate of yesterday's violator of urination rules in a public place, I thought that there really wasn’t any need to contact law enforcement officers. And if the dollars disappeared forever. And only American Exprress checks, which can be restored in case of loss, remained the last ray of hope.
If not for them, I might not have written this article now. I called London, at the office of American Excel, asked me to call back and for a long time tried to explain my situation. The telephone connection was constantly interrupted, my English worsened noticeably from excitement. A minute later on the twentieth conversation, a company employee asked if I knew any other language than English.
Yes, damn it! - burst out of me. I was lucky. By happy coincidence, a Russian girl was sitting that day at the London representative office of an American company on the telephone with slackers who sowed travelers checks in yellow hot Africa! After that, I immediately explained the situation, and they assured me that tomorrow I would be able to receive new checks, since today banks are not working in Togo.
That was good news. The bad was that you had to live until tomorrow. And my capital, as I quickly calculated, consisted of 700 CIFs, which is equivalent to 1 North American dollar. At the buffet in my luxury hotel this was slightly missing. I had to go to a nearby village — you could buy some fast food in Africa with that kind of money. Say, skewers of skinny chicken. Or some penny fruit - for example, bananas or oranges.
At the exit from the hotel’s gate, I was hailed by a black-and-black man in white and white national attire and asked if I wanted to buy ganja, that is, marijuana. I said I did not want. Then he offered heroin and cocaine, he warned that it would cost more. I again refused. - Why? - I did not understand the merchant.
- No money left.
- Why? he asked again.
- Stolen.
- Lot?
- Everything - and honestly told my situation.
“No problem,” the drug dealer said. - Today there is no money - no problem. Tomorrow there will be money - no problem.
I hardly shared his optimism.
- At least a little left? - he asked.
- 700 sifa.
- No problems! - He was delighted. “I'll take you to the restaurant now, they will feed and feed us on 700 sifs.”
I had absolutely nothing to lose; I went with him to this very restaurant. Looking at the menu submitted by the waiter, I realized that the maximum that would be enough for my funds.
- this is for 2 small bottles of beer. You could forget about the food.
“Do you like spaghetti carbonara?” - asked me a drug dealer.
- I love.
After that, he turned to the waiter and said a long phrase in some local language. Surprisingly, I somehow guessed the meaning. It can be translated into modern Russian like this: Now you are bringing concrete spaghetti and beer to it, we pay 700 sif, and without a market, in kind! . The waiter did not mind.
While preparing spaghetti, I thought hard what and how to do next.
- Why are you so sad, white? - distracted me from the sad thoughts of the satellite.
- You know what they say in Kenya? Acuna Matata Translated - no problem.
Do not be sad. If you want, let's go to me, fuck my wife, you'll like it. No problems.
I politely refused. We had a bite, drank a beer, I paid.
A drug trafficker escorted me to the hotel entrance.
The evening was coming. I did not want to sleep. I wanted to eat. I had supper with mango fruits, fallen from trees growing on the hotel grounds.
4th series. There is no reception against Lome.
The third day of my stay in Togo began well. An already familiar drug dealer caught a taxi for me and explained to the driver that I should be brought to the American Exress office absolutely free of charge and then no one would have problems. The taxi driver did not argue.
Checks were restored to me by West African standards instantly, that is, in about half an hour. I immediately cashed out some money and hurried to the cafe, because, for quite understandable reasons, I had not yet had breakfast. In the cafe, I immediately devoured a bunch of every grub, and finally relaxed. Then he took a room in the hotel, bought every grub in reserve. Then he remembered to buy a watch. The electronic alarm clock, taken from Moscow, has stopped working. In the instructions for him, I read that he will calculate to work in the temperature range from minus some there to plus thirty degrees.
Alas, below plus thirty here happened only at night. Trader hours found quickly. In Togo, it should be noted, they sell everything, at every step, that's just very rarely someone buys something.
- White! - he said - I know what you need. Rolex. Golden. Very cheap.
- How many?
- Two thousand.
- Dollars?
- No, CIF.
I instantly thought in my mind that a ridiculous amount of $ 3 is obtained and the deal is beneficial even in the very likely case if the watch is not gold and not Swiss.
Successful purchase was washed in the nearest beer. Slowly sipping a beer, I sat on an open veranda and watched the outside world. Life began to improve. On the other side of the street, a young resident of Togo, Naomi Campbell, was selling coconuts. The product was lying on the ground, she occasionally leaned over to her hairy nuts and it was obvious that there was no bra on it and that did not spoil her. Then another brilliant thought occurred to me.
Having finished my beer, I crossed the street and asked Naomi if she wanted to go out with me somewhere. A coconut saleswoman replied that she wanted very much, but she needed to sell her goods. Finding out that the whole pile of nuts is worth seven dollars, I handed her the money and said that her working day was over. She led me to a very nice bar where we drank a beer and Naomi asked if I wanted to make love to her, which would cost me another $ 7.
I did not mind. True, he warned that I wanted to use protective equipment (since approximately every second inhabitant of Togo according to statistics is infected with AIDS).
The bar found a secluded spot, between the utility room and the toilet, as specially created for such entertainment. On the wall hung a special device for condoms. Alas, the device was empty. I did not want to risk. I made a compromise between desire and fear and told the girl that I would manage oral sex, and that would not affect her income. My mood, greatly spoiled by previous events, was improving every second. And at that moment, when it reached the maximum mark, I lost consciousness. And not at all from the outstanding sexual abilities of a dark-skinned woman, but because I was hit on the back with a blunt heavy object, as is customary to write in police reports. I do not know how long I was lying on the floor face down. I do not know if only because, waking up, I did not find Rolex Swiss gold watches on my hand. The purse is also empty. True, this time the thieves fell literate and did not take travelers checks. But for some reason they borrowed 100 Russian rubles remaining from Moscow, which could hardly be exchanged for something within a radius of 1000 km from Lome, if not more.
I got to the hotel with difficulty. Headache. Before going to bed, I thought of two things: I will cash out one more check tomorrow and immediately leave for Benin, this Togo is enough for me. And when I return to Moscow, I will listen to the tape with the song << Kill the Negro >> for whole days.

It will be boring - send money I still laugh when I remember this story. This summer I had a chance to travel in a train. Along the way, so as not to be bored, I sent SMS to friends. But when the roaming zones started, the money in the account quickly disappeared, and I decided to ask my father to drop me 500 rubles into the account of the ruble.
By chance, I deleted his number (because the options "Delete" and "Send SMS" were very close), restored it from memory. But due to his harm to my requests for money, my father answered him somehow evasively, and in the end he deigned to give me money only when I got off the train in the town of Bologoy and my companion called him from his phone with the same request. Next two months went on a very strange gimp. When I called my dad on my cell phone, he never picked up the phone. Regularly a man called me and asked, they say, what the fuck do I need. I thought that he regularly mistaken number. In addition, a strange uncle often called me from his home number, which in general was the height of arrogance. Once again, overflowing with indignation, I scolded him very much for such antics. What was my surprise when my father decided to call me himself and I saw that his number was displayed as unfamiliar, and not as the one in my phone book marked as "dad". It turns out that I was wrong on one tsiferku. It was then that I realized that all 2 months I called the very uncle, then she scolded him himself for bothering me with his calls, and - most importantly - she asked him several times to deposit money to me!
A drunk cat in the Spring, before being sent to the country, my Siamese Vasily suddenly yearned for the fair sex and began to harass me with wild non-Russian cries. I was fed up with this and I decided to calm him down with a folk remedy - valerian.
Basil devoured this case thoroughly, but did not calm down - he was drawn to the exploits. Just like the owner.
Well, that he was heaving all over the apartment, jumping everyone under his feet and knocking on the go - this is a special conversation. Here I am: do you say that cats do not like water? How so.
I go into the kitchen and see the following picture: a dove is sitting on the balcony, on the railing. Vasily goes in the wrong direction towards him, while making strange, bleating sounds and trying to grin. Walking along the edge of the sink. From the tap water flows. Reaching the middle of the sink, Vasily suddenly draws attention to the pouring water. It looks. is looking. And suddenly, like a drunk peasant, without making a sound, he sideways into the sink at the potato peel and gets under a stream of water, where he falls asleep. Do you think I pulled it out?
Fiction ...
bullshit ... but cool ...
<< Chapaev sat at the table and gloomily looked at acno. In the courtyard Petka tried to force the mare Mashka to utter the word << Ktotam? The mare was silent.
Pyotr Isaev once again fucked her on the back with a Savkovoy shovel and dirty, but he cursed with restraint. Masha, with her bottomless eyes, stared blankly at the orderly of the great Chapai. She tried to understand what this drunk and dirty little man wants from her, but in response to this he beat her again and again.
Vasily Ivanovich was tired of this circus, he went out into the yard and stopped the disgrace, shooting Petka. Masha gratefully looked at the formidable divisional commander. The drummer played the morning wake-up call, Chapay decided to shoot him for a laugh, but he caught himself in time, the drummer was alone.
“How did everything hurt me !!!”, the divisional commander thought for the tenth time in the evening, but there was nothing to be done to get ready for the attack. The division, raised in alarm, was a deplorable spectacle, half of the fighter was drunk, the other half was not at all in the ranks. << And how with such Red Army men will conquer a bright future ??? >>, the divisional division was ready to break loose.
Coming out in front of the Chapay formation, he briefly, but in colors, explained the upcoming plan of attack and the defeat of the enemy White Guards.
The division looked at him blankly, they had no idea what this mustache uncle wanted from them, and who the he was was, in the language there were several names from the heroes of the civil war. Whether Shchors, or Kotovsky, or Kol Chuck.
The divisional commander decided before the battle to check the status of the fleet of armored vehicles and the readiness of the fleet for carpet bombing. The only trophy tank on which the Japanese swastika was saped and << Fuck >> was written on top of it, was harnessed with the harness of the best horses and decorated with colorful ribbons. “This is for masking,” the chief of the armored division explained to him, having guessed with difficulty in Chapai’s divisional division. << Unclean White Guards will think that we have a wedding and will pass by, and then we will go back to them, kaaaak fucking !!! >>, Chapay liked the plan as a whole, but there were some unconscious suspicions that we wouldn’t fuck because the shells the tank was not, as, indeed, the guns on the tank.
The gun was firing at the parachute dropping of an amphibious assault back in the previous year.
Then the tank was simply dropped from the board, or rather not dropped, but badly tied. Petka was sleeping in the tank at that time, and Chapay wanted to reward him later for his heroism, but he forgot.
<< Fucking in the mouth !!! Where is Petka !!! >>, Chapay was without him, as without hands. From behind the corner, swaying timidly, the orderly came out. << I serve the Soviet Union !!! >>, he shouted.
Knowing the cool temper of the division commander, Petka had replaced his pistol with a water gun from last year, and now, when Chapai thought of shooting him, he fell into a panaroshka and pretended to be dead.
<< Story of fighters !!! >>, Chapay was extremely talkative today, Petka umch alsya. Where? Dick knows.
About two days later, the division withdrew and moved towards Moscow. Chapay thought for a long time and thoughtfully, on what kind of dick did they go to Moscow and fuck it up there, but could not think of anything worthwhile.
He decided to leave everything to chance, and Petka was shot again, because he had been wandering somewhere and hadn’t been seen for a week or two. << Or maybe he is a Cambodian spy? >>, from such a difficult word, Chapai's head ached, or maybe she was hurting because an enemy bullet hit her.
This fact is still the subject of debate of scientists.
Ahead, Chapai had a crossing of the Ural River, and a meeting with Captain Nemo >>.
Throwing away the Furmanov's slate pencil wept bitterly as he wrote to write the biography of Chapaya !!!!!!!!! But you can’t argue against the order of the commander, so you had to log every day of the day the great divisional commander.
Anka approached him from behind and pressed him to her immense, but already Komsomol breast: “Don't cry, uybishche-commissary”, Anka was in shock today, even Chapay did not hear such tender and tender words from her. Furmanov instantly wiped away tears on Anki’s dirty hem and stopped crying. An order is an order, and orders are not discussed!
This Furmanov understood for himself even in the school of training parashutistov-bureaucrats. It was necessary to deal with more pressing matters, the division disbanded. Бросив пару палок Анке, пока она мыла полы и закурив <<Герцеговину Флор>> он отправился вставлять пиздюлей распоясавшейся дивизии .
В это время Петька пиздил курей в соседней деревне, но как то неудачно он их пиздил, вместо курей доброжелательные жители деревни стали пиздить его. <<За что?!>>, кричал, валяющийся в пыли и уворачивающийся от огромных деревенских лаптей ординарец. <<А чтобы було!>>, жизнерадостно ржали деревенские мужики.
Покуролесив еще пару часов, мужикам надоело это увлекательное занятие, и на общей сходке решено было пойти и отпиздить прославленного комдива, или же, если не получится, Фурманова. Им, в принципе было похуй каво пиздить. Чапая они собрались пиздить первый раз и немного побаивались, но, блять, надо же когда то начинать!
Чапай встретил мужиков в белом маскхалате на голое тело, в немецкой каске, со стаканом вотки в руке и пьяной, но довольной Анкой под собой. <<Хули вам, пидарам, надо?!>>, прохрипел он, Чапай всегда начинал нервничать, когда его приходили пиздить.
Мужики растерялись. Солнце зашло за тучи и стал накрапывать довольно крупный град, приближалась буря. Кто то из мужиков неосознанно пустил газы, <<иприт>>, мгновенно определил комдив, <<с чесноком и самогоном>>. <<А хуй знает, что нам надо>>, успел подумать самый смелый мужик Чапай полез под кровать за гранатометом, Анка начала стрелять глазками в сторону мужиков, которые уже съебались от греха подальше. <<Ну его в пизду этого ёбнутого комдива, пошли над Фурмановым поглумимся>>, мужики все решения принимали сообща, но каждый в отдельности не был против столь замеч ательной мысли. Фурманов сидел в сартире, срал, курил, говорил по телефону и разгадывал крассворд. столица СССР, слово из 6 букв, на <<М>> начинается, на языке крутилось что то знакомое, на всякий случай он решил позвонить своему другу Луначарскому, тот быстро зашол в базу данных Национального Географического Общества и выдал ответ <<Мадрид>>, подходит с кроссвордом было покончено, тем более и срать уже не хотелось.
Фурманов осторожно выглянул в щель под дверью, в последнее время деревенские мужики ему очень не нравились, пиздили его каждый день, за что непонятно. Взгляд уткнулся в коричневый глаз самого смелого мужика, тот сидел и срал перед сартиром в надежде на то, что Фурманов, выйдя из клозета непременно вляпается в дерьмо, что бывало уже не раз. <<А вот хуй вам!>>, подумал Фурманом и решил посрать еще раз Анка как могла успокаивала Чапая, тот с гранатометом в руках бегал по расположению части и искал на ком сорвать злость.
На глаза ему попалась несчастная кобыла Машка, с криком обиженных и угнетенных индейцев Чапай потихоньку подкрался к филейной части данной особи лошадиного пола и вставил гранатомет ей в задницу, нажал на спуск, и тут произошло неожиданное гранотомет был тож водяной, Петька позаботился.
Кобыла Машка стала раздуваться на глазах ахуевшего комдива. Анка попятилась в сторону сарая <<Ну их нахуй, такие приколы>>, это то и отличало Анку от всех остальных баб чапаевской конницы, она всегда жопой чуяла, когда становится жарко.
Но сегодня чутье подвело подругу героического комдива, она просто не успела добежать до спасительного укрытия .кобыла ЁБНУЛА!!! ошметки от несчастного животного разметало по всем углам деревни и расположению чапаевских молодч иков. Чапай стоял посреди двора, весь заляпанный дерьмом, кровью и кусками шкуры горемычной кобылы.
<<Диверсия теракт инопланетяне путч >>, именно эти мысли бились в висок герою гражданской войны. Он бросил взгляд на сарай, в луже крови, кишок и спермы сучила ногами умирающая Анка, на неё пошло направление взрывной войны от кобылы и она мужественно приняла удар на себя.
В спине у неё торчали рога многострадальной Машки, (Машка была единственной рогатой кобылой в дивизии, именно по причине рогов её и записали в личный состав). Анка постепенно успокаивалась, агония заканчивалась, Чапай судорожно думал, кого же брать на место Анки, но кроме Фурманова и Петьки никто в голову не лез.
<<Орел или решка?>>, Чапай всегда был сторонником многогранного выбора.
Деревенские мужики тем временем, не дождавшись Фурманова из сартира, решили поджечь его. Фурманов был против, но в затуманенные ядреным самогоном головы деревенских мужиков, не могло достучаться сочувствие.
Самого смышленого мужика скопом послали за бензином. Фурманова тем временем смачно избивали ногами. Почти неподвижное тело комиссара дивизии облили бензином и подожгли. Мужики долго смеялись, глядя на корчившееся в огненных всполохах обугленное человеческое тело.
Вдоволь насмеявшись и допив самогон, мужики решили делать когти из этого гостеприимного места. Тем более им не понравились осуждающие и пьяные взгляды бойцов дивизии, смотревшие на них из окон казармы.
Чапай бегал по двору, и орал, размахивая именной шашкой, <<Где блять, Петька, найду высушу и выебу>>. Петька мирно спал под правой гусеницей трофейного танка, ему снилась его первая любовь, необъятное поле ромашек и красные революционные шаровары, которые он сменял деревенским мужикам за рессору от трактора. Командир бронетанкового дивизиона тем временем прогревал мотор своего единственнго трофейного танка, включив первую переда чу он решил выехать во двор и спросить у Чапая, на кой хрен он так орет.
Танк нехотя тронулся с места, прервав сладкий сон ординарца великого Чапая, намотав его на правую гусеницу. Петька не успел даже и проснуться, он так и остался во власти сладкой истомы и его первой любви на ромашковом поле.
Танк, дребезжа своими железными внутренностями выехал во двор. За ним волоком тащились совсем не железные внутренности бывшего ординарца.
Чапай непонимающе смотрел на останки Петра Исаева, ему было невдомек, как в таком состоянии он сможет исполнять свои служебные обязанности, от Петьки мало чего осталось. А без Петьки Чапай был как без рук.
Бойцы прославленной дивизии, видя, что творится решили тоже слинять отсюда по быстрому, бросив Чапая на растерзание озверевшим белогвардейцам. Но Ч апая это не могло остановить, зажав в руке отстрелянный гранатамет, схватив котелку колбасы он кинулся вплавь через Урал. На том берегу базировалась база противолодочных субмарин.
А суждено ли было добраться до того берега Чапаю Вы, мальчики и девачки, должны были прочитать в книжке про историю родной страны...