I remembered a story that happened a couple of years ago at the previous place of work.

The laboratory worker who worked with me that day says - after lunch the son will come, school is over, wants to go somewhere for work in the summer, asked for fluorography.

No question, I say, we will do. Let him come.

A young man of 16 years comes, a laboratory worker takes him, I open the second compilation of pictures and look at them. Normal lungs, without any pathologies.

And then a joke comes to my head, to say, and to play a guy, I will say that it is easy to see that he is smoking. I ask him, strictly, what do you smoke? ? to

I think the guy will say no and that’s all. And he stumbled, dulled, red, standing, staring at Mommy without blinking. Here I realized that in vain I joke so — burned the guy, not wanting to.

The laboratory is like that, yes, my son, tell me. for a long time? Do you like it, Al?

He began to say something in his excuse, like recently, just tried, I will not again.

Okay, says Mommy, go home to your son. We talk tonight.

If you are reading this, forgive me! I didn’t think the joke would be a joke. Smoking is harmful!

Is the Nostalgic Club here?

But he is not as before...

Two years ago, I worked in a fire alarm company. The General won a tender for dismantling and installing in several kindergartens. He sent our brigade there. To be honest, I resisted for a long time, it was very hard for me to watch the children who were abandoned. But the boss sold, and we started the work. At first, the children were afraid of us, then used to and already helped, unfolded control blocks, wrecked wires, and we brought them anything delicious from the house for this, the educators did not object. It was even fun, fast friendship, but there was a moment when we needed to move to another object. The separation was not easy. Even my wife and I rushed to adopt one, but we were not given, because in the demands we needed our own apartment, and we only rented and had a newborn child.

In general, children are very cruel, and here, where there are no one who could fully give them their love and care, especially. And especially children are cruel to those who are not like everyone else. And one girl in one of the internships was exactly like that, red, red, like fire and all, all in the lights, straight, all the face wrapped. Obviously, the children attached to her and often offended her. Several times, I remember, I even talked about this topic with teachers, but the conversation was very cold.

Because her friends didn't go well with her, we quickly made friends with her. She was very curious, she wanted to know, “What kind of box is this? What are you doing with this plastic? Why do you have a screwdriver with a lamp? She had to explain everything thoroughly, otherwise she did not lag behind and asked to explain it in a new way. For this, sometimes in the morning, when she came to "help" us, in a joke, I called her Vaccination. “Here, the spark has come again.” She was terribly offended and red, becoming just fire. Then I came down from the stallion, knocked her on the shoulder and said I was joking. Then I picked up cookies or candy and cooked.

It was winter and I built them a hill in the yard, in the breaks between the work. I bought a few inflatable plugs and during the walk there was a whole agitation, everyone wanted to ride. And as to the evil on this hill, Prishekka broke her hand, a unsuccessful fall, and most likely one of the children pushed her, and the educators did not look after her. I remember that day I came home upset when I told my wife that they both separated. Thank goodness, everything went well and my hand quickly healed, but I did not see Prishpka again, because she was transferred to another corps, which was in another part of the city.

But this is not the end of the story, this story has a happy end. Not long ago, coming from another trip, I went to pick up my bone from the garden. As usual, I dress him in the dressing room and comes in, whoever you think, a stick! Oh, what a joy, she immediately recognized me, hugged me, say hello, Vladimir Andreevich. I too, how cold are you? And here mom goes in, you won’t believe, too, red-cutting and with swallows. We talked, I told everything, how and where, under what circumstances I met. We agreed to meet in the children’s park. It turned out to be unlikely to have them in the family all red and dad and mom and son and now Nastenka. They had a tragedy before that, got into an accident and the youngest daughter died. And when the sorrow became unbearable decided to adopt a child, came to the first internship and accidentally saw the Vaccine, it was like a thunderstorm in the clear sky. They adopted her without thinking and lived there for a year.

I hope we will continue to meet them. And they will be fine.

Five years ago, we lived in a private house. We had an old six (Vaz). Here came the moment when we purchased a second car in the family, but since a tranche was excavated on the site, there was only enough space for 1 new car, the sixth decided to leave behind the yard.



One day, I will drive a six, but literally in a few minutes it will swallow. The gasoline was zero. He wrote everything down to his illiteracy, dropped it out of the canister and went.



Literally a week later, the situation repeats, then it has become obvious that gasoline is melting. And the most offensive, the tank was filled in the evening, and in the morning all the gasoline was sucked out. And not just for us.



This situation was discovered by the grandfather, who stumbled, called them chacals and said that he would take revenge.



The tranche that had been excavated earlier had already been buried, so the sixth in the large number could be won. But the Father forbade to do so until the offended are punished (literally).



The grandfather disconnected all fuel highways and the pump from the six tank. He poured water into the boiler, diluted it all with salt and sugar, until it did not fall into precipitation. Then he added some chemical fertilizer for the plants, a little yellow colorant and finally gasoline for the smell. Waited a little, watched that the mixture is stable, does not foam, does not spit and does not try to burn.)))) Well, he poured it all into the tank, the car was forbidden to use.



The car stood for a week and a half, until in the morning they saw that the fish was hanging. They pulled out almost a full tank. Then the grandfather told me to push the car into the yard. The tank was removed, washed well and placed in place.



How do we know that karma has surpassed its heroes? A couple of days later, on our fence in the night, they wrote a yellow paint "Pida races" and struck something twisted a couple of times. Unfortunately, 2 leaves were damaged and had to be replaced, but the grandfather was pleased and personally replaced everything himself.



There was no more gasoline on our streets! :)

The cost of travel on paid roads should not exceed the amount of the fine for excess speed on free roads.

I write a story in some sort of sadness, again understanding that anecdote.ru is not for philosophy, reasoning and conclusions, but a type for rust, as many believe. But anyway, opening the site on "stories" you are waiting for, of course, life tricks, and again, individual negative lessons of other people teach you to find those tricks that you need to see in time and bypass the side.
So here...
For example I.
Former Special Forces Officer of the USSR.
After the collapse of the country - former mint (on retirement).
What it achieved. What I know and know...
But I understand that if before, after a parachute jump, I ran with the soldiers 45 kilometers and performed the task, and in the meltdown, when there was no OMON and SOBRA, I crashed into all the heavy, then now I do not lift anything heavier than cocktails of cognac, pen and mouse comp.
Heavily, I hope for communications and telephone calls, and I don't bore NEVER (a type of lawyer).
At 55 years old, I ride a small jeep home-work-store-home and back.
It is idyllic to me!!! to
Oh! I’ve been raising my son for 18 years and I’m not a borse!!! Not a border!! I’m going to kill you if you’re wrong!! As a condemned.
and here. I go with my son on the way home, a million times on the same route. This is a type of signal!! In the window of BMV swirls, swirls, and again, the fuck, the fuck!!! The fucking!! When will these mountains stop us from giving birth to Russians from these mountains? The cock!! Which king invented these villains to include in our country?! The fucking!! Live in your mountains!! by Aula! Shake at yourself! Stay in the parish!! All of us!!! to
They cut. In the middle of the road in 4 rows! Two black men come out. Why Why? The cock! Why Why? What can you tell me in Russian? That I’m a little gray, old and on a expensive car?
Here the shoulders are straight down from the understanding of sadness.
I went out with my son and went out each time. I am the one and the son of the other. They went well, they went to bed. There are 10 cars!! Young and old came, men and women (even) pulled us a little away. But I understand that the mountaineers got so much of them that even we started to get a lot of them.
So these blacks sat in the car and, with the gasping, with the cries of Allah Akbar-type silenced. And we, the man 20, stand and look at them.
I don’t want to be an extremist, a chauvinist, or whatever they call me. Oh shit, you catch up! And with them! and catch! Catch your underdog!
The Russian! Take a handball fight! Only this “Russian language” will understand everyone!

How my parents taught me to be independent:
I come home and see a note:
Salad on the table.
The next time:
Salad in the pot on the plate, warm up.
and then:
Cakes in the refrigerator. and sware.
and then.
Salad in the store. Money on the table. Go, buy and cook.
The last note read:
Salad in the store. Money at work.