My Blog: jokes funny jokes
Duvet Cover in America
A friend went in the first year to learn from the school for exchange. Godik lived, looked at what, etc., etc., etc. A couple of years later he went to study at the "Yankee Go Home" university. Settled it in a local hostel with some kind of amerikosom. Being already experienced, he took with him various "purely Russian things", including a duvet cover (the matter is that the Americans are at first covered by a sheet, and then with a blanket, as in a train). So this Yu-es-hey koresh walked-walked for a while and finally asked: "Listen, I understand below the sheet, well, to hide, further the blanket, well, on the top sheet, is it not enough for what (warmer to the blanket did not get dirty ...), but what the fuck did you do ?!
HOW TO CHOOSE A MAN (advice of a true gentleman)
You are no longer a young girl and students attract you little. I would like to meet a reliable, experienced and held a man? .. Well, in this case, the woman always has to choose from what remains, or to encroach on the sacred - to beat off another's husband. First, how to accurately distinguish a married man from an idle, well, for example, on the street. A married man walks around and looks around the women he likes, and the unmarried man steps proudly, expecting the ladies to rush at him. Indoors, married men try to achieve your closeness, and the unmarried try to make a spectacular impression. In bachelors, you always see increased attention to yourself, which is very different from the behavior of a married man. If you choose to honestly choose a husband or a friend from all that is left unmarried, then the choice you have is not great. Most unmarried men are self-complexed, romantically pliable and sexually weak individuals who are not quite the opposite sex, for example, because women's qualities are also beginning to acquire over the years. They are gradually accustomed to cook, wash, save, go shopping and do without women. In casual sex, they are like women's affectionate, decent and romantic. This is often at first and bribes acquainted women who are very jaded with this gentler tenderness and go to the rude men with whom they again begin to feel a real woman, and not a girlfriend for their male girlfriend. I'm not talking here about those unmarried men who were left without families because of vodka, pathological cruelty to women and chronic laziness. Already this third grade, let me not discuss at all and sincerely tell the women who are forced to live with such specimens for the sake of children for many years. A very rare exception to the general unmarried male population are widowers, especially with children, retired military men who lost their families because of heavy service and freshly divorced men (if not because of vodka). What to do with widowers is known to all women - to replace his mother's children, and he will convince himself that you are his wife. With retired colonels or ensigns it's also easy - you just need to be at his fingertips. But only those who did not stay longer than 6 months ago are suitable. If you are a retired officer who has already lived on pension for more than a year and has not married, it is already, in a sexual sense, not a former colonel, but a decrepit ladies' man. It is very insulting for any woman to be the tenth lover by the age of an aged and lonely person. With freshly divorced men is much more difficult. First of all, it is necessary to find out how much he drinks, walks on the side, plays gambling, or how impotent. Unfortunately, everything, and especially the last one, has to be checked on oneself. Well, I must warn that the development of such a man for a future husband often ends in disappointment. And now let's move on to a more promising, but somewhat tricky way to beat off other people's husbands. Oh, the technology of beating yourself, sorry for the truth, it's very simple - to lie down. Well, not just in a hurry, but, completely and from all sides showing the man how good you are. I will not describe the details, since now we have a conversation about the choice of a man, and not about his retention. Of course, it's much easier to choose a ready-made and already held man, from a snotty boy or a divorced recluse. Well, you can beat off the headman, actor, politician, highly paid worker, businessman. I, frankly, have envied all my life young women who, through a successful marriage with a man older than her years by 10-20 on one wedding day, can solve all life problems, most then live in prosperity and their future children to build a golden nest. If all women in the choice of men always chose in the first place those who in their essence are leaders and are able to support their family normally, a hundred years later a new generation of people would grow up, much more intelligent and adapted to life. And in this natural, it would seem, selection constantly interferes with Mrs. Love, that is, human nature itself, which draws people to multiply not by reason, but by blind desire. Here from this instinctive desire or love, I also warn you when choosing a man - the farther from love, the more reasonable your choice.
Interception of calls
The situation is this: I'm on the bus to work. I listen to the radio through the player. Suddenly, the radio begins to sound muffled, and in the player, against the background of hiss and pop, two voices sound, female (M) and male (M): W: Well, where are you now? M: How - where ?! At home, where else! W: What are you doing? M: I peeled potatoes, I sit, I listen to music, I play on the computer while the potato is cooked. F: Umnichka. I realize that I was carried on the wave of cell phones, and because of the nature of my player, not studied by the researchers, I can overhear someone else's conversation. It becomes interesting to me, and I continue to listen: W: And I have a problem here ... Do you hear? M: What? W: We have an urgent meeting ... For an hour. So I'll come only in an hour and a half! M: It's a pity ... (with a note of sadness in his voice) W: Well, nothing! Do you still love me anyway? M: Yes, of course! So when are you waiting? Then I notice that female and male voices sound like stereo ... Volume sound. That in cell phones equipped with only one microphone, of course, it is impossible. But the effect is cool: as if you can calculate the direction to the source of each voice. In old Queen songs, this effect was beautifully used. W: About an hour and a half later. M: All right, love. In an hour and a half I wait for you. Kisses. G: Whole. Till. The woman sitting in front of me, (exactly in the direction I calculated at the end of the previous line), folds the phone, says to the man sitting next to her: "Rolled!" - and he kisses him. I turn in perplexity in the direction from where, judging by the sensations, a man's voice was heard ... And I see how a man sitting on a row behind and two seats to the right of me ends up hiding his cell phone in a belt case, kissing the girl who sits with him, and says: "We have still almost an hour and a half!" Flick - noise and crackling in the headphones disappear, and the old volume of "Radio 1" is restored ... I'm quietly fucking away ... Player, damn ... Interception of conversations on the radio ... And at the next stop I had to go out and see I could not do a silent scene.
I'm on the bus once, the people are full, as if half of Moscow decided to visit the crematorium. Nearby is a girl. The girl has a package with bananas. And this package, she can not attach in any way so that it does not interfere with her. Finally, the package hangs on the arm and with the same hand it holds onto the handrail. The package swings and becomes available for viewing by all standing nearby. Near me a free place is formed, and I suggest that she put the package next to me, which the girl does. Further. Some cheerful young man smiles and asks a question: "Aunts!" On the next go out? It's us aunt! What a nagger! Having decided to mock a little, I make a flirtatious movement with my eyebrows and answer: - Well, since you insist ... The guy does not quit: - Well, banana, then please? I did not have time to come up with a decent answer, but the girl gave out: - And we do not add unfamiliar monkeys! It was very crowded, so there was nowhere to go from laughing.
Oh, bitch we
I was on the bus, I heard the girl talking on the phone: - No, I'm already going home ... Today I will not ... Let's meet her myself, I'll call her ... What does it look like? Well ... The painted blonde is fuller than me ... (and so on) Then she calls back to the girl, about whom there was a speech: - Everything, I agreed, you meet without me. I told him that you are a blonde ... (oh, bitch we ...)
When this happened, I do not know, but clearly in the time of historical materialism. Somewhere in the north, according to the weather, there were two helicopter crews, an army and a naval crew. They lived in a hotel, there was nothing to do, so they went to the restaurant in the evening, where, incidentally, there was nothing to do either, and the restaurant was such that in the afternoon there was a dining room. And from the economy they bought only what to eat, and they brought their own alcohol. Out of boredom, they eventually remembered that there were some contradictions between the fleet and the army, quarreled and sat at different tables. And on every occasion tried to outshine each other. And then one evening the commander of the naval crew asked the flight engineer to surprise with something green. Well, he, without a long thought, hailed the next table, poured a glass of alcohol and swallowed it down, then gnawed and swallowed the glass itself. This feat did not go unnoticed, and the commander of the army crew, rejoicing about the glory of his kind of troops, demanded something original from his bortach. He quickly poured a glass, quickly knocked it over his head, but then there was a hitch, for there was no original continuation there, chewing the same glass would be shameful and generally zapadlo. And then the misty look of the hero fell on the window sill and brightened. Quickly he grabbed a cactus from a window sill peacefully growing there, and in a flash he bit them. The fleet was put to shame, the victorious crew returned gloriously to the room. Waking up the next morning, through the fog of the hangover syndrome, the glorious warriors saw the author of yesterday's victory, sitting sadly in front of the mirror on a stool with a swollen muzzle and picking out of his lips and tongue numerous needles of snacks.
Take your dog away
Recently, a friend told this story. She has a friend, and that one has a huge dog, a diver, ideally trained. They go somehow along with this dog along the street, and their way passes through a small square, fenced with a fence. In the garden some auntie walks a small shavka, like a lapdog. Shavka runs without a lead and, seeing the diver, begins to bark hysterically. Well brought up dog does not react. Small dog rages and yelps already a centimeter in ten from the muzzle of a large dog. He clearly holds back from the last forces, but courageously continues to go silently next to the hostess. Then the insolent little whore, choking with barking, digs a diver for his paw! AND HERE THE PSYCHOLOGY IS LOSING. The dog rushes after the shove, the one from him, and behind the dog on a leash, like a water-skier after a boat, the mistress is going. The space of the public garden is limited, so all three rush in circles, maneuvering between trees. Finally, the mistress of the dog cuts into a tree, clasps it with her hands and, with the last effort to hold the leash, tries to prevent the killing and screams to the mistress of the dog: - Rather get your dog away !!! Auntie slowly turns her head and calmly replies: - Yes, do not be afraid, she does not bite ...
Unusual sense of humor
It was at the height of stagnation. One day one of the workers of the Flight Test Complex (that was in Sh-1) went to Zhukovsky on official business. Let's call it Petr-Petrovich (PP). The train goes there from the Kazan station. And it must be such a thing, it took a belly from the PI! Right at the station! Well, he tyrk into the toilet, and he is closed for repairs! What to do? Where to go? He ran, ran ... well, he left the position somewhere under the bush. I went to Zhukovsky, came back and dashed a huge complaint to the head of the Kazan Station about the sorters not working there. They say: Workers suffer! Ugliness! But I must say that Petr Petrovich was at that time the boss, that is, in a modern "boss". And he had a deputy (as befits every boss), say, Ivan Trofimych (I-T). So, somehow in the absence of VP-deputy. his IТ receives a letter from the administration of the Kazan Station, such as "to your complaint from such and such such and such that we answered that at that moment all public toilets at the station were closed for repairs, for which we apologize. The work will be carried out according to the schedule, which allows not to close all toilets at once. "With respect Date, signature". But Ivan Trofimych was a man with an unconventional sense of humor. He immediately takes this letter and typed in the typing machine between the last sentence and the signature: "And for obso # of these pants you can get compensation." Then he seals it back in an envelope and puts the chief on the table. And here comes Petr Petrovich. He goes to his office, checks the mail, then appears very worried and says: "I need to leave urgently! ... On business! Urgent!" Well, the boss needs, who's arguing with him? He left ... Arrives in half a day even darker than the clouds ... It turns out that it was: He breaks into the head of the Kazan railway station with cries of "disgrace, what do you allow yourself?" ... and so forth, waving a letter. He says to him: "Are you crazy? Who will write you this?" And really, they raised it by ref. No original, they sorted it out ... Then it dawned on him that his deputy has humor sometimes. He came to work and went to the party committee. I arranged a terrible scandal there, called I-T on the Party Committee, prophesy, and rolled up a reprimand through laughter and tears. But Ivan Trofimych was not upset, he said "but now everyone knows how to kick!"
I'm driving somehow in a busy bus. He stops at the stop and falls out of the door (just falls like a pillar), a drunk man. I took a look in the frozen rear-view mirror, quite seriously: - Comrades passengers, who dropped the carpet?
Katka - that says it all
It was an apostle of New Year's holidays. So, of course, there was a Christmas tree in the hut, and accordingly there were all sorts of bells and whistles, from sham snow and rain from the foil to Santa Claus under this tree. Farther. I have a cat. Neeeee - you gentlemen just cats live - and I have Katya - that says it all. This new year she will remember for a long time. So the first case. Like any animal, Katka feels a craving for all vegetation in the winter! Do not eat, dog, just a cactus. Bastard! And the tree started - the needles are big and you can get caught. Well, and, of course, in passing a couple of balls to break, Dede to tear down, to hang a garland - this is not Hochma. This bastard needles seemed a little - for the cable from the garland began! I myself sit in an armchair quietly so, resting pretended - BACH FUCK! The machine was knocked out! What the hell? He went on - he scoured the rooms to search for reasons. found - the mustache is not, the muzzle is black, the eyes are rolled out and gnaws the cable !!! MISS it you see !!! I gave her a reward for the valor of the sausage and gave it all the wiring around the winter attribute. Case two. gobbled up the sausage and returned to the crime scene. I again type in an armchair kimarju - she something eats. evening came. After serving her physiological needs Katka ran around the house like a hut. it does not matter, however - well, the joy of the cat, with relief you Katya! And now during the next march-throw of this beast past me, I noticed that behind it is dragging something brilliant and subtle. Here and there, back and forth. I like every bad boy I, of course, stepped on this snake. This delayed Katka. Looked this rain! and begins his take in. correctly! Out of ass. Katka ofigela from such an infringement of her freedom and began to break free. As if - I would hold her by the tail. and growls. so gradually, slowly (and I do not clean my foot), she walked away and, accordingly, 2.67 METERS of THAT FALSE FOIL came out of it! How she managed to confuse her with needles - I do not know. maybe it's a shock from petestricism?
My brother once worked in the regional office of the paging company Mobiliel Telesom. One morning after the holiday everyone comes from the future. The manager asks if he has heard the weather forecast today (for the news channel). Naturally, no one knows anything. Then he approaches the open window, puts out his finger in the window and says: "Record: the temperature is so-so, the pressure, humidity, strength and direction of the wind - such and such." While this data is being broadcast, listen to the radio - new numbers. "And leaves for his office. After a while they begin to broadcast the forecast - everything is the same as the tunic. The chief: - In as it is necessary to define weather. Well, straight as a hydrometeorological center! The weather forecast ends and the girl says in a sweet voice: - The weather forecast was kindly provided by the leader of the paging communication company Mobiliel Teles ...
Airline with jokes
I flew just now one American airline, famous for its jokes. It belongs to them the advertising slogan "Nobody loves your money more than we do!" And the phrase "if you again vzbredet in the head to sweep across the sky in an iron pipe - come to us." This time the stewardess told that never, never, never is allowed to smoke in the toilet. "But if," he says, "you feel just an irresistible craving for a cigarette - tell me." I'll open the window for you. You can smoke - smoke!
Cemetery of condoms
My friend from the new Russian middle-aged sent his wife and children to Greece for a couple of months, well, and, of course, he tore himself away from the soul, began to drive the grandmothers home, did not disdain and putanochkami, in general did not succeed in chilli spending his time. Well, he was of course protected, of course, one trouble - the prezers, without a long thought, threw in the window. In short, his wife returned, and so in April, when the snow melted, it was possible to plant flowers under the window and found already the cemetery of the gundons. I must say that they lived on the third floor of the five-story building, the first two were occupied under his office, and on the 4th and 5th lived elderly couples. Saving thought came suddenly - he zakosil on homeless people from the attic, which there, of course, and in memory was not his own diligence. In general, the homeless he had to hire - a homeless and bomzhihu. For Bukhalovo, they climbed every day into the attic and rushed out from there with gundons, and so for a whole month. Well, my wife got shabby as a result, although a bum with a gundon is, you know, roughly like a nun in a brothel.
Give me something
This spring my wife and I jerked to their relatives (half an hour by bus) to cope with their health and with a father-in-law to crush a bottle of homemade vodka for a juicy shish kebab. At me, as at professional потаскуна - a carrier - two bags in hands and a backpack on a back with a meal and supplies, at the wife - a box with seedlings of tomatoes. The thing is not very heavy, but uncomfortable. And then just a bus arrives, filled with hungry resting townspeople and as many people are standing at a stop. I push my wife forward first, she makes her way to the driver to put a box near him, and the crowd, excited by the expectation, brings me to the end of the salon. The density of passengers, of course, immediately exceeds the number of Japanese per square kilometer and I can not break free. At the same time, my wife (160 cm tall), also clasped in a stampede, but already attached to these damned tomatoes, thinking that I was covering my back with my heavy burden, groped for the bags packed up to the top and persistently pulled for them, said: - Dai something - and, in fact, turns ... On her ochchen looks at the two-meter bearded uncle with astonishment and the phlegmatic voice answers: - I DO NOT GIVE ... And, after a moment's thought, he added: - I'm GREET ... From the bus we are at that day we all the same left, having passed the stop, but it already absolutely other history ... Yes, most г the main thing - the next day it became much colder and the tomatoes brought in the crush died on the vine! Summer residents !!! Listen to the weather forecast !!!
My mother would never be able to teach me to communicate with men, because she could not do it herself, but she taught me to read a lot and with ecstasy. The university did not teach me a specialty, but taught me how to work with a source, collect, classify and apply information in practice. That's why I comprehended the science of communication with men myself, with the help of books, films, numerous glossy magazines and popular TV shows. I learned a hundred tricks. I took as an axiom that I should be interesting externally and internally. Because I knew that you will leave the next day after you stop feeling interest in me. I learned that the way to your heart lies through two organs, one of which is the stomach. I learned to cook delicious food, because if I do not diligently feed you, there must be one who will do it. I suspect that men were also taught that they should be fed, but I try not to say this heretical thought aloud, so as not to get a label "feminist" from you and "lazy ungrateful" from your mother. The second way to you is through the bed. And I was always ready. I can on any given day, anywhere, any number of times, regardless of the phase of my cycle. I learned to make you blowjob is not only good, but also with pleasure, being excited from it. I learned how to love your cock and admire it, wholeheartedly, sincerely speaking countless compliments. I learned to buy condoms and defend my right to safe sex, because all the consequences of the dangerous will become my troubles. I learned how to make acrobatic tricks so that you will not lose a single gram of pleasure because of the damned gum. I learned to smile in any situation. Because I have a beautiful smile, which means that I'm fine, and there are no problems that you need to solve right now. I learned to accept you with all your shortcomings and weaknesses, thinking up numerous excuses for them. I learned to be stronger than you, to support you at any moment, without demanding the same in return. I learned to be grateful for your time, gifts and money spent on me. I learned to walk on heels, because I look so much sexier. Whenever I can not stand on the full foot in the evening, when I start to feel all the veins on my legs (and I'm not yet 25 years old!), I realize with horror that these are the first swallows from varicose veins and ugly deformities, ugly bones . I know that today I made several thousand more steps in this direction. I learned from the media how I should look and dress to please you. I know which things to choose so that you notice 4 the size of my chest, 60 centimeters of my waist, 93 centimeters of my thighs: I immediately choose clothes in stores that suit the name "little things", so small is their area. I learned to wear sexy underwear and feel like a full-fledged woman only in it. And although it is most convenient for me in cotton, I do not wear it, because in such underwear I look like a teenager. I have learned to fill the whole space around me with vials, tubes, packages of three kinds of gaskets for every day. I learned to dye my hair to be different for you: For every square centimeter of my skin, there is a special tool that kills the natural smell and adds silky: I'm ready to buy them all. I learned not to talk much. About myself and that my work is important and interesting. I am adept at adapting, and every time I do it with all my heart. I listen to the same music, watch movies, read books, talk with people, go to the same taverns. I start to like the same as you and understand the models of "Lada", if it seems funny to you. I learned to get drunk only with you and pretend that I'm a little more drunk than I really am, so that you can take care of me and scold me in the morning. I learned to keep my mouth shut whenever you talk about other women and not talk about other men. I learned not to call you at home, because whenever a wife takes the phone, I have an unbearable desire to say "Honey, the deputy is worried. How is ours, far?" I learned not to think about whether you are sleeping with your wife and believe when you say that you have not done this for six months already. I learned not to call you on the mobile, because whenever you say in a jerky voice "Yes, yes, no, yes," I feel as if I have been swept across my face, hands, eyes wet with a thin rope. I sincerely do not understand why this is so, because I manage to keep the voice warm and love, even if I say "I'm busy, call back later." I learned not to tell you the words of love and tenderness, so as not to listen in response to only "me, too." I learned that you can not love you too much and too clearly, because it scares away. I am pressured by my tenderness, only to not let you know that I'm dying of love for you, otherwise you will become imposing and disdainful. You will just allow yourself to love yourself and think that I will not get away from you anywhere. I learned not to cry when I feel bad, because you can not stand it. And let the tear in strategically important moments. I learned to respond to the names you give me. I begin to think of myself, to call myself, to sign my letters with those nicknames that you are generous to while in love. I learned not to jump to you with a running start around the neck: I learned not to feel alive and continue to live. The only thing I could not learn, this is little and diet. Fortunately, I have so much energy left to do all the other things that the food burns faster than it reaches the stomach, and I do not suffer from overweight: Besides, I have a justification for the Mediterranean saying that women who have a good appetite for food, have a good appetite in bed. Sometimes I think with horror, but where am I? What is my name really? That I love? And I can not answer. I learned. I'm a good girl and always got a single five.
One day, one person returned home late from work, as always tired and puffed up, and saw that at the door he was waiting for a five-year-old son. "Papa, can I ask you something?" - Of course, what happened? - Dad, how much do you get? - It's none of your business! - the father was indignant. - And then, why do you need it? - I just want to know. Please, well, tell me, how much do you get in an hour? - Well, actually, 500. And what? - Dad ... - the son looked at him from below upward with very serious eyes. "Dad, can you borrow me 300?" "You only asked me to give you money for some stupid toy?" Cried he. - Immediately march to your room and go to bed! .. You can not be so selfish! I work all day, I'm terribly tired, and you are behaving so stupidly. The kid quietly went to his room and closed the door behind him. And his father continued to stand in the doorway and get angry at his son's requests. "How dare he ask me about his salary, then ask for money?" But after some time he calmed down and began to reason with reason: "Maybe he really needs something very important to buy. Yes, hell with them, with three hundred, he's still never even asked me for money. " When he entered the nursery, his son was already in bed. "You're not sleeping, son?" - he asked. - No, dad. I'm just lying, "the boy answered. "I seem to have answered you too rudely," his father said. - I had a hard day, and I just broke. Forgive me. Here, keep the money you asked for. The boy sat up in bed and smiled. - Oh, folder, thank you! He cried joyfully. Then he climbed under the pillow and took out several more crumpled banknotes. His father, seeing that the child already has money, again became angry. And the kid put all the money together, and carefully counted the bills, and then looked at his father again. "Why did you ask for money, if you already have it?" - grumbled that. - Because I did not have enough. But now I have enough, "the child answered. "Dad, there are exactly five hundred." Can I buy one hour of your time? Please come back early tomorrow, I want you to join us for dinner. Morality is not morality. I just wanted to remind you that our life is too short to be spent entirely at work. We should not allow it to flow through your fingers, not giving it even a tiny one to those who really love us, to our closest people. If tomorrow does not happen, our company will very quickly replace us with someone else. And only for family and friends it will be a really big loss, which they will remember all their life. Think about it, because we give the work much more time than the family.
Andrew It happened about 8-9 years ago when my family got out to visit my godmother. We arrive in the evening and find the picture: the owner is sitting on the threshold of the house (the house is a private one-storey house) despite the early spring in one T-shirt and the sweat is flowing from it. Instead of a greeting, we heard "Undress, and then sweat, go help." Surprised, but went into the house, and there in the kitchen is a huge bench from some city park (well, you probably saw this - on the sides and in the middle of the concrete such garb with curls and between them all dostochkami fastened). They began to conduct an inquiry - it was found out that a couple of months ago a brother and his wife came to the godfather, the visit was sooo well celebrated, after which the men went out to smoke, sat on this bench, froze and while the ladies in the telly were staring, they brought this shop to the kitchen :-), smoked a lot, snorted a hundred more and went to sleep. In the morning it was discovered that the bench in the kitchen was very useful, only from the consequences there was a slightly scratched ceiling in one place (although it is quite high there). And now the godfather has decided to sell the house, the buyer has already come to see everything and is pleased with everything except this "furniture", which now needs to be taken out. We took up work (three men in the prime of life) - for an hour and a half from us seven sweats descended, knocked out the glass at the door, pobyvali all adjacent corners, properly crushed the door to the refrigerator and ignominiously returned to the original. After a few glasses of tea, it occurred to me to get a good idea of watering a godfather - he might remember how they brought it. Then I saw on the ceiling the tracks left by the bench and the second series began with the production of "for the priest." The final alas is the same, only added marks on the walls. So we went home late at night. The new owners of that house were made easier, they sawed her damned across, then they wanted to collect, but could not ...
I served once, at the age of 89, in the GSVG (who does not know this is the Soviet Army Group in Germany), the platoon commander of the platoon of the chief of the artillery regiment (VUNA). Once decided to divide the division into combat shooting from the entrusted weapons. Well, since we are artillerymen, our guns are, of course, guns. And not anyhow, what, and howitzer-self-propelled guns of caliber 120 mm. In! Here it is necessary to open a military secret: the projectile in these howitzers is divided into the actual projectile and the charge - the sleeve, in which four bags of gunpowder immediately lie. If you want to get close to the bullet, you get all the bags (except for the latter, of course, and then how will you shell out the shell), pounding the shell, then the charge and-and-and: "Handset 20, sight 15. Solitary fire!" So we, , well, there the distance to the target and up to the battery of guns (and their buno pieces of 12), on the radio were transferred. Fire! ... All in the Christmas tree. The shells are torn where necessary - they are picking up the Hitler bunkers at the test site. We observed this business, thanked them for the contented command and got back to their position. The battery was built. Our Colonel (Head of Artillery) pushed a sympathetic speech, which, they say, we are all well done. All in the Christmas tree, all is well. Sacks of those with gunpowder were collected from all the self-propelled guns, left in a funnel and burned (it is necessary to say a cool salute turned out - a flame a pillar directly into the sky - beauty). Only here an ill luck - one bag was missed. Well, no! Nevermind. And then the radio comes to life: its good boss calls you to be such a good mat (the army language is this) of our boss to himself. Have arrived. And there shuher, everyone runs around, all e ... have, in general. Well, and us to the heap. And how ?! In short, what happened: the bag of that forgotten equipment our rather big gun fired as much as five kilometers further than the calculated one and exactly into the German village. The authorities shout: e ... mother ... a mountain of corpses. Our boss turns pale - well, something bad for him. We're going to watch. Village. The Bauers are alarmed, running around, shouting something. Especially one frau strongly tears. He shouts something, waving his arms. They understood only: "Honneker, Gorbachev." I'll write, they say, I'll complain, all my relatives were killed, the occupants are cursed. We go into the courtyard, in the middle there is an ocher-cone (well, howitzer), the shed on the side lies, there was no fence, and around the bodies there were six corpses of disfigured ... Pigs !!! Aunt's guinea pig was bred for sausage. What now sausage with Soviet pieces. Covered. Six months later she was taken to the fattening of the offspring from the regimental dining room.