My Blog: jokes funny jokes
On Saturday I went to a dacha in Komarovo, which is near St. Petersburg. Down the highway. If in the course, then a few kilometers after the post in Lahti there is a fairly high-speed section - up to the Fox Fox. It was on him that everything happened.
Seeing the approaching plate with the inscription St. Petersburg on a white background crossed out with a red stripe in the distance, I settled myself comfortably and dug in gas, going out to my cruising speed (who does not know, I'm on the roads of general use a man not hurried and speeds of 110-120 km / h me quite enough). However, it was not there! After a few seconds I caught up with a group of cars. In the right row with a speed of 80 (has the right!) Slowly moving the white five, on a par with it in the left is RAV4. Processes "overtaking" or "advance" does not occur.
Behind the RAV'a propped up a powerful BMW one of the latest models. Gradually, we are joined by several more cars - 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 slightly closer. So we move for a few minutes, I follow the five, in the left row - a long tail of foreign cars lined up. The situation is starting to get hot, the BMW driver to my left blinks the lights continuously and waves his fist in front of the windshield. The left row is dangling like when there is a lot of excitement - everyone is trying to understand why in the place where they used to go 120-140-160 they are already dragging on for 80 minutes. RAV once again rolls back almost level with the trunk of the five and starts to catch up with it again, BMW slows down to calm nerves and, taking advantage of the moment, I meet in the left row behind RAV'om and start flashing lights (they are much higher than mine BMW :-) and buzz. Zero emotions. We continue to roll. At this time, on the right row, the red MASDA is catching us and, at absolutely furious speed, is pushed into the instantly formed gap between the five and the RAV. Fairly wagging the tail MASDA cuts RAV and carried away. RAV brakes, I do too, but smoother and a little earlier, behind the BMW decelerates. The driver RAV'a begins to feel that something is wrong and hurries to the right, sending a white VOLVO (trying to follow the example of MAZD'y) to the right side of the road. The angry beeps are heard, RAV jumps back to the left lane, now sending me to the left shoulder of me, foolishly trying to take advantage of the moment and overtake. In a complete panic, RAV tries to overtake the top five and adds a move, but breaking away somewhere half a body forward, decides that this speed (~ 90) is an overtravel and starts to brake again, but immediately discovers that BMW almost bumped into the back door and the conquered positions (the floor of the luggage compartment of the five) is not going to take. I prudently went into the right row, all lined up in the left, RAV'a shakes on the road, as in the ice-hole ...
Here it is obvious to the driver of the five that bothers him, he goes ahead and the RAV quickly rebuilds into the right row. Repulsed foreign cars are beginning to overtake him with furious speed and ... Again, there it was! Missing 2 or 3 cars, RAV jumps out into the left row and powerfully goes to overtake the five. Glasses of three people walking behind to overtake cars instantly misted by the heat of emotions, and RAV noticeably sits down on the highway from the heaviness of the matyukovs stacked on it. In the end, the RAV overtakes the top five and rides in the right-hand row of 100-110 km / h. When it's my turn to overtake him, I see the astonished face of the driver trying to understand why the tenth machine is already passing by with buzzing and numerous gestures at the temple.
The amazed face of the "driver" ...
I woke up early. I washed, ate, dressed and went to work.
When I got there, at work the car was busy.
He sat down next to the stool. I wanted to sleep very much and fell asleep.
I wake up at home ... I must, I think, such a dream.
Gathered, did something about the house, went to work. I arrived, turned on the computer, read the mail. I hear - someone calls me.
Do not respond, well, them. I read further. Again they call. Again I do not respond. Behind his shoulder is a coward. I sniffed at that "shaking". And I myself read on. And suddenly I hear the voice of my wife:
- Yes, get up, you asked early to wake up, but he also swears ...
And here I'm ofigel!
Two soldiers of urgent service are walking along the street. Strongly 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, standing on all fours, bites the dog by the nose. The dog breaks off the leash and runs away. A citizen with Russian folk idioms is running after her. After some time, the friend with the dog calculates the necessary military unit and complains to its commander about the unworthy behavior of his subordinates. Moved by righteous anger, the commander, before the prescribed punishment, directs the soldiers to apologize to the comrade. The soldiers come to that house, they ring the doorbell. Behind the door choked the dog barking. The owner opens the door, the dog sees the soldier and jumps from the 4 or the floor from the balcony ...
The owner had a heart attack.
(It is executed in the original language)
How about a mache ... that's it? Big, blue. how is a mache? Do you speak English? Spanish? Che, onli spanish? Well, El moment. Uh ... Their bean is buying this. Zis - how of the dollar? Here, damn, stupid. Ai the wont the zis! Zis! Come on, tan, think!
Tie up a lump in his own way, do not cheat, lisen here. Lysen here, I say!
I want it! Zis, zis and zis! Their bean to bash! Dona anderstend? Is it spanish? Hende Hoh! GY-s-s ... A joke, a smile! Buy it, buy it all! Do not understand? Are you mowing, black? Cache, andalstand, cache? Yes, put your hands down! Ai em rasha, re-lax! Nyht to shoot. Peace, friendship, dollar! Buy it all. Tsuzamen, real! Well? Hilton, the munya here is this blue with dolphins ... Their bean own! So! Faster toe-to-toe, dude, kvikli behind Loyer, one leg here, the other - chia! May Nehem from Pasha from the Lyubertsy, salam aleykum, fershteyn? And come on, frostbitten, lured already, start to understand in Russian, turn on the count of ick!
Kill a Negro-2.
Hotel Lac Togo is considered the best in Togo. It stands on the shore of the picturesque lake Togo. Nevertheless, in this wonderful hotel dollars did not change. We did not take a credit card either. And as the nearest place where you can find a currency exchange, called the city of Lome, where I actually came from. After a two-hour conversation, I convinced the administration to take my dollars from me and give the change in local currency so that I could finally pay the taxi driver.
Having finally reached my room - with a luxurious European bathroom, a cool air-conditioner and satellite TV, I decided that the day was not easy, but all the troubles are behind. I put all the money and traveler's checks in my bag, hung a lock with a code number on my bag, showered, changed clothes. Closing the room on the key, I went to swim in the heated pool (as it was said in the hotel's prospectus, although it's difficult for me to understand why to specially warm the water, if it's more than 30 in the street?).
I felt like a white man. Swam, sunbathed, and stared at the black women in swimsuits. Fully eaten with a buffet in the restaurant. I watched the TV series Helen and her guys in French.
Poglazel on orange-black lizards, running around the hotel. Before bedtime, he took a lariam pill (antimalarial drug).
From the instruction, which is attached to the medicament Lariam (Mefloquine):
The most frequent side effects are nausea, vomiting, systemic or non-systemic dizziness, imbalance, headache, drowsiness, insomnia, nightmares, mild stools, abdominal pain.
Less common are: convulsions, visual disturbances, tinnitus, anxiety, anxiety, depression, memory loss, confusion, hallucinations, circulatory disorders, urticaria, pruritus, hair loss, muscle cramps, fever, chills, loss of appetite.
The authors of the instruction exaggerate somewhat. From the long list I got only nightmarish dreams and hallucinations. The room began to grow tropical lianas, arise from nowhere eerie insects and spiders, but fortunately, it was dawn and the morning of a new day.
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 bank's doors, alas, are closed again.
- Working? - I asked (hope dies last).
"What Ramadan?" He's at another time.
- I do not know. I am a Christian, I do not care about these Muslim holidays.
I was tugged at my 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 missing. I must return to the hotel, persuade the manager to change, explain the situation - I decided.
Alas, the meeting with the manager took place in a slightly different scenario. Because already in the hotel, I was surprised to find that I had nothing to change. Looking into the wallet with dollars (I kept my local notes in my pocket and had a normal currency on my belt), I found that dollars and traveler's checks had mysteriously disappeared. The manager explained to me that nobody could steal my money at the hotel, because this is impossible, because this can not be ever. I probably lost them somewhere. He refused to call the police categorically.
Remembering the fate of yesterday's violator of the rules of urination in a public place, I thought that with the guards of order, there really is no need to communicate. And if the dollars are gone forever. And only American Express checks that can be recovered in case of loss, remained the last ray of hope.
If it were not for them, I might not have written this article now. I called London, the American Express office, asked me to call back and tried to explain my situation for a long time. The telephone connection was constantly interrupted, my English deteriorated noticeably from excitement. In the twentieth conversation, the employee of the company asked if I know any other language than English.
Yes, no shit! - Escaped from me. I was lucky. By a lucky chance, on telephone communication with sloppiness, who sowed traveler's checks in yellow hot Africa, a Russian girl was sitting in the London office of an American firm that day! After that, I immediately explained the situation, and I was assured that tomorrow I will be able to receive new checks, as today banks do not work in Togo.
That was good news. The bad thing was that you had to live until tomorrow. And my capital, as I quickly calculated, consisted of 700 sifa, which is equivalent to 1 North American dollar. At the buffet in my luxurious hotel, this was not enough. I had to go to a nearby village - for such money in Africa you can buy some fast food. Say, a shish kebab from a lean chicken. Or some penny fruit - for example, bananas or oranges.
At the entrance to the hotel, a black-and-black man in white-and-white national dress called me and asked if I would like to buy ganji, that is, marijuana. I said that I do not want to. Then he offered heroin and cocaine, honestly warning that it would cost more. I again refused. - Why? the trader did not understand.
- No money.
- Why? he asked again.
- They stole it.
- A lot of?
- All - and honestly told his situation.
"No problem," the drug dealer assured. - Today there is no money - no problems. Tomorrow will be money - no problem.
I hardly shared his optimism.
"Is there a little left?" - he asked.
- 700 sifa.
- No problems! he rejoiced. "I'll take you to the restaurant now, they'll feed us and give us 700 sifs."
I had nothing to lose, I went with him to this very restaurant. Looking at the menu served by the waiter, I realized that the maximum that my money will be enough for.
- this is for 2 small bottles of beer. About the food could be forgotten.
"Do you like spaghetti carbonara?" the drug dealer asked me.
- I love.
After that, he turned to the waiter and pronounced a long phrase in some local dialect. Surprisingly, I somehow guessed the meaning. To modern Russian it can be translated approximately like this: Now you are purely specifically dragging spaghetti and beer here, we pay 700 sifs and without a bazaar, in kind! . The waiter did not object.
While spaghetti was being prepared, I pondered over what to do and how.
- Why are you so sad, white? - distracted me from sad thoughts companion.
"You know what they say in Kenya?" Akuna-matata. Translated - no problem.
Do not be sad. If you want, come to me, you'll fuck my wife, you'll like it. No problems.
I politely declined. We took a bite, drank beer, I paid.
The drug dealer escorted me to the hotel entrance.
The evening was approaching. I did not want to sleep. I wanted to eat. I ate dinner with mango fruits that fell from the trees growing on the hotel grounds.
4-th series. Against Lomé there is no reception.
The third day of my stay in Togo began well. An already familiar drug dealer caught me a taxi and explained to the driver that I need to bring to the American Express office absolutely free of charge and then no one will have problems. The taxi driver did not argue.
Checks were restored to me by West African standards instantly, that is, about half an hour. I immediately cashed some money and hurried to the cafe, because for quite understandable reasons I had not had breakfast. In the cafe, I immediately absorbed a bunch of every grub and finally relaxed. Then I rented a hotel room and bought some other grub in reserve. Then I remembered that I had to buy a watch. An electronic alarm clock, taken from Moscow, stopped working. In the instructions to him, I read that he will calculate for work in the temperature range from minus how many there to plus thirty degrees.
Alas, below thirty plus here it was only at night. The trader was quickly found. In Togo, it should be noted, they sell everything, anything, at every step, but very rarely someone buys something.
- White! - he said - I know what you need. Rolex. Gold. Very cheap.
- How many?
- Two thousand.
I immediately counted in my mind that it turns out a ridiculous amount of 3 dollars and the transaction is profitable even in that very probable case, if the watch is not gold and not Swiss.
Successful purchase was washed in the nearest pub. Slowly drinking beer, I sat on the open verandah and watched the world around me. Life began to improve. Across the street, Naomi Campbell, a young Togolese woman, sold coconuts. The goods lay on the ground, she periodically leaned toward her hairy nuts and it was evident that she did not have a bra on her and that did not spoil her. Then I thought of another brilliant thought.
After finishing the beer, I crossed the street and asked Naomi if she would like to go out with me somewhere to have fun. The coconut seller replied that she wanted to, but she needed to sell her goods. Finding out that the whole heap of nuts is worth seven dollars, I gave her the money and said that her work day is over. She took me to a very nice bar, where we had a beer and Naomi asked if I wanted to make love to her, that I would still be 7 dollars.
I did not mind. However, I warned that I want to take protective measures (because about every second resident of Togo, according to statistics, is infected with AIDS).
In the bar there was a secluded place, 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 it. I went on a compromise between desire and fear and told the girl that I would manage oral sex, and on her income this will not be reflected. My mood, strongly spoiled by previous events, improved with every second. And at the moment when it reached the maximum mark, I lost consciousness. And it's not from the outstanding sexual abilities of a black woman, but because I was hit on the head with a blunt, heavy object, as it is customary to write in police protocols. I do not know how long I've been lying on the floor facing down. I do not know, if only because, waking up, I did not find on the hand of Swiss gold watch Rolex. The purse was empty too. True, this time the thieves got literate and did not take traveler's checks. But for some reason they borrowed the remaining 100 Russian rubles from Moscow, which could hardly be exchanged for something within a radius of 1000 km from Lomé, if not more.
I could hardly make it to the hotel. Headache. Before going to bed, I thought about two things: Tomorrow I will cash another check and immediately leave for Benin, enough of this Togo. And when I return to Moscow, I'll listen to the cassette with the song "Killed the Negro" for days on end.
It will be boring - send money. I still laugh when I remember this story. This summer I had a chance to travel on a train. Along the way, in order not to get bored, I sent SMS to friends. But when the roaming zones began, the money in the account quickly melted, and I decided to ask my father to throw me 500 rubles.
By chance, I deleted his number (because the options "Delete" and "Send SMS" were very close), restored it from memory. But my dad responded to my requests for money in an evasive manner, and finally deigned to put me money only when in Bologoye I lagged behind the train and my companion called him from his phone with the same request. Two months later a very strange rottenness continued. When I called my dad on the cell phone, he never picked up the phone. Regularly I called some guy, and asked, they say, what the fuck I need. I thought he regularly made a mistake. In addition, a strange uncle often called me from his home number, which really was the height of arrogance. Once again, I was overwhelmed with indignation, very much scolded him for such antics. Imagine my surprise when my father decided to call me and I saw that his number was displayed as a stranger, and not like the one that I marked in my phone book as "dad". It turns out that I was mistaken for one tsiferku. Then I realized that all 2 months I called that same uncle, then she scolded me for bothering me with my calls, and - most importantly - repeatedly asked him to put money on my account!
Drunk cat In the spring, before going to the country house, my Siamese Basil suddenly began to pine on the beautiful floor and began to torment me with wild non-Russian cries. I was fed up with this order and I decided to reassure him with the folk remedy - valerian.
Vasily devoured this matter thoroughly, but only did not calm down - the feats pulled. Just like the owner.
Well, that he was kicking around the whole apartment, jumping all under his feet and knocking down on the move - a special conversation. I'm here ochem: you say that cats do not like water? How.
I went into the kitchen and saw a picture: a dove sitting on the balcony, on the railing. Vasily moves in his direction with an incorrect step, while making strange bleating sounds and trying to grin. It goes along the edge of the sink. Water is pouring from the tap. Reaching the middle of the shell, Vasily suddenly turns his attention to the pouring water. He looks. looks. And suddenly, like a drunken man, without making a sound, sits sideways into the sink for potato cleaning and falls under a stream of water, where he falls asleep. Do you think I pulled it out?
garbage ... but cool ...
<< Chapaev sat at the table and looked gloomily at the acne. In the courtyard Petya tried to force the mare to translate Mashka's word << Kotatam? >>. The mare was silent.
Pyotr Isayev once again fucked her on the back with a savage shovel and dirty, but cautiously cursed the floor. Mashka, with her bottomless eyes, looked at the orderly of the great Chapai, incomprehensibly. She tried to understand what this drunk and dirty little man wanted from her, but in response to this he beat her again and again.
Vasily Ivanovich tired of this circus, he went out into the yard and stopped the disgrace, after shooting Petya. Mashka looked gratefully at the formidable commander. The drummer played the morning wake, Chapai for laughter decided to shoot him, but in time he realized that the drummer was alone.
<< How did everyone fuck me !!! >>, for the tenth time in the evening the divisional commander thought, but there was nothing to assemble in the attack. The division, raised by alarm, was a deplorable sight, half the soldier was drunk, the other half was not at all in the ranks. << And how with such Red Army men to win the bright future ??? >>, the Commander was ready to break on the mat.
Leaving before the formation Chapai briefly, but in colors explained the forthcoming plan of attack and the defeat of the enemy White Guards.
The division looked at him incomprehensibly, they did not know what the mustachioed uncle wanted from them, and who in general was such a man, several names from the heroes of the Civil War turned on his tongue. Whether Shchors, or Kotovsky, or Kol chak.
The commander before the fight decided to check the condition of the fleet of armored vehicles and the readiness of the fleet to carpet bombing. The only trophy tank on which the Japanese swastika was padded and on top of it was written << Dick >>, was harnessed by the harness of the best horses and decorated with colorful ribbons. "This is for disguise," explained the chief of the armored division, having hardly guessed in the commander Chapai. << The whiteguards will think that we have a wedding and will pass by, and then we'll go to the rear, we'll fuck you up !!! >> the plan as a whole I liked Chapa, but there were some unconscious suspicions that we did not fuck up, because the shells to The tank was not, as, indeed, the guns on the tank.
The cannon was palm down when landing on a parachute landing in the year before last.
Then the tank was simply dropped from the samalet, more precisely, it was not dropped, but it was badly tied. Petya was sleeping in the tank at that time, and Chapai wanted to reward him for his heroism, but forgot.
<< Fucked in the mouth !!! Where is Petya !!! >>, Chapai was without him, like without hands. From around the corner timidly swaying, the step-man came out briskly. "I serve the Soviet Union !!!", he yelled.
Knowing the cool nature of the commander, Petya had replaced him with a water pistol since last year, and now, when Chapa was thinking of shooting him, he fell down and pretended to be dead.
<< The construction of fighters !!! >>, Chapay was today extremely rhetoric, Petka Umch was. Where? He knows.
Approximately two days later, the division withdrew and moved to Moscow. Chapay thought for a long time and pondered over what dick they were rushing to Moscow and blasphemy to do there, but could not think of anything.
He decided to leave everything to himself, and Petya to shoot again, because he fucked somewhere and he was not seen for a week or two. "Or maybe he's a Cambodian spy?", From such a complex word Chapaya had a headache, or maybe she got sick from the fact that an enemy bullet hit her.
This fact remains a subject of debate among scientists.
Ahead of Chapai was the crossing of the Ural River, and a meeting with Captain Nemo >>.
Throwing aside the slate pencil Furmanov bitterly wept as he fucked up writing a life story Chapaya !!!!!!!!! But you can not trample on the orders of the commander, so you had to record every day of every day of the great commander.
Anka approached him from behind and pressed him to her immense, but already Komsomol breast: "Do not cry, uyebishche-commissar," Anka was in shock today, even Chapai did not hear such tender and gentle words from her. Furmanov immediately wiped his tears on Anka's dirty hem and stopped crying. The order is an order, but orders are not discussed!
This Furmanov understood for himself in the school of training parachutists-burglars. It was necessary to deal with more pressing matters, the division dissolved. 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...