bezdna.su — the best quotes and jokes from the abyss!
The year 1998. I serve in the ranks of the Russian Federation. Despite the title of ordinary, I go to the guard as a breeder, because of the excellent knowledge of the statutes (including the charter of the guard service). In the night from 8 to 9 May we enter the guard.With us, the beggar, which has the main commandment for the hourly nihuy, to fool, not to do without my knowledge. All emergency situations are to the guard, I decide and give the teams." Whoever in his previous years of service in another part of somebody there was fucking wrong, we did not get into it. At our facility at the 3rd post, most of it is not covered with a fence, but simply hangars with substance content and tanks with GSM on the bank of the river. At 22 a.m., a call to the guard "comrade senior officer, civilians burn a fire near the GSM, what to do? In the GHS they shouted, “Go away, they don’t leave, the faces show.” Nakhar told me to take a wake-up change and run away from these fools.
We take, we run. There is already a fairly drunk company of a few girls and young guys. I explain to them that there are no fires to burn here. “Forgive us” is the softest thing I’ve heard. I begin to explain in their language. And then one of the guys starts rolling out a machine at me. Some of his friends are starting to crack around us. My guards are behind, I can’t see them. I try to knock my visavi several times with my boots in my knees, in my mouth, judging by the yield, I hit a couple of times and the grip weakens. I pull out the machine and, overturning the closet, I shoot into the sky. Those who were around me shake away, and one of those who remained sitting, pulls out of my sinuses a trunk and shoots me several times. At the same time, I open a large brick-selling holding, and, turning toward it, I squeeze the rope. He spreads his head like a rotten cockroach. The prisons lie behind and my guards put the company on the ground, and I throw the machine, I sit next to it and smoke without stopping one by one until they come to me from the garrison. As it turned out, his trunk was gas, in the evening air, but on the nerve you can't figure out. What he expected is unclear. I dreamed of him many years later. I can say it alive and have not seen it, but with a deformed head, I will not forget it. When my father died, I stopped dreaming. Today I dreamed again. And I want to say to him, go fuck, fool.
We take, we run. There is already a fairly drunk company of a few girls and young guys. I explain to them that there are no fires to burn here. “Forgive us” is the softest thing I’ve heard. I begin to explain in their language. And then one of the guys starts rolling out a machine at me. Some of his friends are starting to crack around us. My guards are behind, I can’t see them. I try to knock my visavi several times with my boots in my knees, in my mouth, judging by the yield, I hit a couple of times and the grip weakens. I pull out the machine and, overturning the closet, I shoot into the sky. Those who were around me shake away, and one of those who remained sitting, pulls out of my sinuses a trunk and shoots me several times. At the same time, I open a large brick-selling holding, and, turning toward it, I squeeze the rope. He spreads his head like a rotten cockroach. The prisons lie behind and my guards put the company on the ground, and I throw the machine, I sit next to it and smoke without stopping one by one until they come to me from the garrison. As it turned out, his trunk was gas, in the evening air, but on the nerve you can't figure out. What he expected is unclear. I dreamed of him many years later. I can say it alive and have not seen it, but with a deformed head, I will not forget it. When my father died, I stopped dreaming. Today I dreamed again. And I want to say to him, go fuck, fool.