bezdna.su — the best quotes and jokes from the abyss!
The year 1983. City of Lubna Poltava region. I am a wank-rocket in the 280th tank regiment of 25 gv. The name of the group (!) of Chapaev.
One day, he pulled a lawn in a regiment. Saturday, PCD; one of the mouths brushes linoleum with mastic on the PC. The chief of the company from the generosity of his and from the excessive service zeal of 20-30 kilograms of mastic.
After breakfast with the pasta brought from the "Toshnilovka", I filled up, fixed the coburu on my fat belly and decided to look: what is done there in the barracks. Left in duty on the phones of the assistant-flag Yurchik, relentlessly went "to look at his possessions."
And it should have happened: at this very moment myself (!) The Comedy! Major-General Martyrosyan ordered the driver of his “Bobik” to stop – right in front of our barracks!
He entered the barracks and immediately, shaken by fear and horror, the daytime "on the shell" soldier's soul from the first dots barely whispered:
-...p...p...-poo...kx-kx... lk – sm...kx-kx.... The RNA...
With some seventh sense, I still heard this cock's pre-death whisper and looked around: at the other end of the center in the barracks, putting my hands behind my back, I entered myself (!) The Commander General (!!!)
I turned like a bullet in a bullet and ran to meet the general. But the kilograms of slippery mastic played a wicked joke with me: already attaching my hand to the "Fura" bark, I slipped on the thin pillows of my crummies and... sat on my ass.
And so – with the palm under the hood – sitting on my ass – I walked on a slippery linoleum to the comedy and, SIT (!) Ordered in full form:
Comrade Major General, personnel of the 280th tank.
Martyrosyan listened to the end, stretched his hand down to me and calmly said with a unique Armenian accent: “Rise up, son...”
I finished my service in the Ministry of Defence in a position equal to the horizontal comedive.
Sometimes, recalling funny stories from lieutenant youth, I wonder:
"Why did we, the green flyers, be so afraid of those cool good-hearted uncles with big stars?"
One day, he pulled a lawn in a regiment. Saturday, PCD; one of the mouths brushes linoleum with mastic on the PC. The chief of the company from the generosity of his and from the excessive service zeal of 20-30 kilograms of mastic.
After breakfast with the pasta brought from the "Toshnilovka", I filled up, fixed the coburu on my fat belly and decided to look: what is done there in the barracks. Left in duty on the phones of the assistant-flag Yurchik, relentlessly went "to look at his possessions."
And it should have happened: at this very moment myself (!) The Comedy! Major-General Martyrosyan ordered the driver of his “Bobik” to stop – right in front of our barracks!
He entered the barracks and immediately, shaken by fear and horror, the daytime "on the shell" soldier's soul from the first dots barely whispered:
-...p...p...-poo...kx-kx... lk – sm...kx-kx.... The RNA...
With some seventh sense, I still heard this cock's pre-death whisper and looked around: at the other end of the center in the barracks, putting my hands behind my back, I entered myself (!) The Commander General (!!!)
I turned like a bullet in a bullet and ran to meet the general. But the kilograms of slippery mastic played a wicked joke with me: already attaching my hand to the "Fura" bark, I slipped on the thin pillows of my crummies and... sat on my ass.
And so – with the palm under the hood – sitting on my ass – I walked on a slippery linoleum to the comedy and, SIT (!) Ordered in full form:
Comrade Major General, personnel of the 280th tank.
Martyrosyan listened to the end, stretched his hand down to me and calmly said with a unique Armenian accent: “Rise up, son...”
I finished my service in the Ministry of Defence in a position equal to the horizontal comedive.
Sometimes, recalling funny stories from lieutenant youth, I wonder:
"Why did we, the green flyers, be so afraid of those cool good-hearted uncles with big stars?"
Source: http://www.anekdot.ru/an/an1107/o110731;1.html