Apocalypse of being.
In my life there are a few unresolved questions (apories) over which I am not tired of breaking my head. For example, why in the mirror the right from the left change places, and the top with the bottom is not? Or why can't a goat be cooked in its mother's milk?(Exodus 23:19 and 34:26; Deuteronomy 14:21) This is not to say that the mouth is filled with saliva when it comes to the thought of a milk-cooked goat, but I would like to know why? to pass? Or are the goats going out? In the fairy tale, everything is clear-do not drink from the cockroach - you will become a goat. From the tank tape, the dryer is not dampened, and then you will be deaf and iron. There is a mist and guess. Also, for example, I am absolutely unclear why my mother did not suffocate me even in the cradle.
I’t have gone by in their place.
One of my uncles (called Cole) hasn’t spoken to me since I was 6 years old. We will celebrate the 40th anniversary of the boycott. He says he doesn’t want to see what has grown out of such a pascua. I was left with my uncle and aunt for a week.
My uncle was wicked, that is, wicked. My aunt’s husband. He worked as a master at the factory. A simple Russian man. I liked a borst with puppets under a whiteboard for lunch. It was a weakness for which his aunt struck him. I decided to help.I took and poured out the water, replacing the water from under the crane. Now, then, I understand what a man is experiencing, who, having already smelled the borst, left his mouth full of saliva, poured out of his fatigue a drink, moisturized his eyes in an anticipation, pulled... and there water... from a frog... Aunt whispered like a knotted. My uncle spit and came out of the table. It delighted me untoldly and I did not stop at what was achieved. Uncle Cole moved to Port-Vine. A risky decision. In his absence, I broke my head for a short time in search of a liquid of a similar color. Something similar came out of two glasses of manganese and a bowl of green, broken in the water. The uncle drank a glass and disinfected for 10 years. The effect exceeded all expectations. For a few minutes I turned a relative into a fountain fire extinguisher. Traces of the eruption on the ceiling survived decades and two repairs. In the place of my uncle, I would have done everything I could. The court would justify him, I am sure.
In later years, the scale of bullying and bullying has only increased.
When I was a kid, i.e. I came out of puppetry and became a foolish, the homeland equipped my homeland for a foreign country.
I could not be taken to the bourgeoisie by the rules. In order not to absorb the spirits of the West and not to separate himself from the mother-mother motherland.
The patriarch of the family-grandmother Olympia Stepanovna of 1894 was discharged from the village. The last branch of my family tree, which the sons of Israel did not scratch.
The old lady was iron, kept the whole family in fear almost from the Stolypin reform. The mood was steep, the health of the horse, the speed for trial and execution.
In this way, the disobedient spouses were usually frightened and they instantly became quiet and affectionate, like castrated cats.
After consultation, my family decided that this was the only remedy against me. and what? Lipa unknowns until 60 years of age traveled around, the Tomilin militia was locked from the inside when she approached, so that she does not break the rotting roof. ha ha!
Yes, from her harassment in the 18th, the commissioner escaped and the village remained without Soviet power for six months.
However, “pressure class beats,” as the horses say. At first, Stepanovna’s Olympics turned me into a baron’s horn. I had never encountered such a large personality before.
At first, she took all the girls out of the house. It was worth to lock up in her room with the lady, as the sluggish grandmother began to knock the door and scream, "What do you think, I don't remember what you are doing there!"
The whole house was overwhelmed by her friends, whom she ruled strictly but fairly. The house slowly turned into a farmhouse. The old ladies were roying day and night, constantly asking questions, advising them to study well, listen to their grandmother and not drink vodka. Sharing experiences and diagnoses.
I was positionally upset, but lost the war completely.
For example, one day my grandmother went out in the morning complaining of a headache. It should be noted that the Olympic was a deadly sick man aged 50 years old.
During this terrible illness, she spent the last trip with eight of her local therapists and old friends without account. The funeral ran joyfully excited - for her it was the character of a sports competition. Each win is another victory. At the same time, at the age of 85, she brought me a 80-kilograms bar that I pulled home. Lipa reached almost a hundred years old and until the last days retained the vigour of the spirit and the inclination of the disposition.
At the same time, she properly took the mountains of pills from everything. Every day she had something new.
That day the sickness took over the head. Lippa drank the wheels and tightened the usual non-patriotic song, blaspheming the domestic pharmaceutical industry. "Pill fucking no help, here before..."
I have agreed:
The best remedy for a headache is guillotine.
and chao?
What is Chavo?
How did you call?
and guillotine.
And what, does it help?
And yet how! Once and cut off! For a lifetime!
The imports, right?
Not my French.
The next day, the Olympics almost got flesh from flesh.
It turns out that she went to the pharmacy and demanded a guillotine there from a headache. The provider, breathing from the hollow, tried to explain that it was not at the address. How is it! The grandmother organized a wild violence, accusing them of corruption and inhumanity:
What is? They sold them, right? My grandmother is old, go! Not ashamed?
And so on...
But something had to be done. I have already disappeared from the home of the elderly, these mausoleums and mausoleums have dreamed of me even at night. The only time they didn’t roam in the house was a compulsory run around the houses to watch the Mexican series “The Rich Also Cry” Then they gathered together again and discussed what they saw and heard. The characters of the series were washed as close relatives - long, carefully with pleasure. This is where my devil’s plan of dispeling this coward was ripped up.
A bit of prehistory.
Imported parents handed over to the domestic offspring an unthinkable at the time luxury television with remote control and a video magnetophone (both HITACHI) Vidak then met in Soviet apartments a little more often than synchrophasatron. Many even doubted his existence.
Grandma, for example, simply refused to believe in him. It cannot be all here.
I quickly strained some semi-criminal connections and arranged the exchange of VHS cassettes (then they were not purchased, but exchanged) Somehow I was drawn to a planted and suspiciously smelling concentrated passion cassette with an unprecedented porn.
In full space, I discovered that one of the asses shaking in the screen belongs to the main character of the series, Veronica Castro.
I did not think long. Five minutes before my grandmother’s compulsory viewing of the rich’s tears, I started the bullshit and plundered at the door with a distash in my hands.
Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah We went!
In the room a wooden knock broke out, and the insert jaw jumped over the parquet. I knocked under the door. At the end of the day, it was nice to see my grandmother. She made the impression of a man who suddenly reached enlightenment. Her jaw walked on the sidewalk, her eyes turned in different directions. Soon, a support group arrived and the old clowns used to hang out, discussing the difficult existence of overseas dons and gentlemen. The grandmother turned her wild eyes from one speaker to another and seemed not to hear them.
She is a parachutist! Olympiad Stepanovna envyed, sprinkling with saliva of goods.
A dead silence.
Who is? The most courageous asked.
Mariana Villarreal de Salvatierra is cheap. It was wrapped there by a man who was not lazy.
Later, the Olympics in an accessible form brought what was seen to the grateful listeners. I was surprised to find that in addition to a modest girl from a noble family, she recognized in the rest of the participants of the feast of the flesh and other actors of the series.
“She was joking with Luis Alberto and Leonardo!” oraled Lipa, and even after that, like him, fell down. Father Adrian gave it.
The grandmother looked.
“Our regiment is gone” was read in their eyes. Lipu tried to calm, but she, feeling the false affection in the voices, cried out louder. The old lady struck the door.
I wore it under a blanket in the neighboring room.
On this council of the elders in our house ordered to live long. One, the most faithful, came like that, pretended to believe, they sat down to look at the unnecessary, Lippa condemned, right now, say, wait...but everything was noble. Until my girlfriend went to the toilet. Lipa triumphantly rattled, knocked out the door, kicked the neighbor from the toilet, turned to the TV...and froze...On the screen, the usual truck again stretched. A neighbor, as she was, with her feet in her lowered underwear broke out of the house.
Over time, my grandmother and I accepted each other’s existence. She recognized me equal and benevolent. When I wrapped her wheelchair, Lippa made me a favourite and did not allow anyone to hide her grandson in her presence.
more frequently entered.
I come home and hear one of my passions, Past Continuous, beating Mafusailche. I was blue, shattered and dropped, so I did.
Lipa (pumping in a chair with a cup of coffee-through the smoke exhalation of belomorine)
I don’t understand you, Katie. I will not understand! So you are sad? by Chavo Kobilissi? You are a young girl, you can check it out.
I slipped on the wall...

Thanks for attention.