When he moved to the elite, he told me.

In the first week, a neighbor knocks at the door in the evening - help, there the husband of the bomber cannot drive out of the entrance!

Look, at the bottom of the site, a man in a jacket with an umbrella beats off from some unshaken fat man in a jacket and treni.

A friend, a boxer with a brigade past in history, instantly got out of the situation. He flies to the bomzhu and leaves him two - ba-bam like from a stand!

He fell under the whisper of his neighbor:

and Aaa! Are you really stupid? ! to Aaaah!

The man in the jacket also shrugged and, saying “Thank you, brother,” ran down the stairs. The neighbor whispered in full siren, stands, sounds already ultrasound.

The Euphoria Collections! It turned out that the acquaintance stumbled his neighbor from below, and the real bombish escaped! True, at the gates he was still bound by guards and caused ments. And after a long time justified that they missed, he was really stylish such a look.

In general, in front of a neighbor familiar is still uncomfortable, he walks, cuts.

And what here, it would seem, to be offended, became an elite - correspond.

I am 5 years old, I mean. year of 93. I don't remember the time of year, but probably spring or autumn, because it wasn't cold, but it darkened early enough. I visited my grandmother, grandfather and father.



As usual in the morning, my grandfather and his boxing dog named Igor took me to the kindergarten. It was not so far away, but through the 4 strip road in the courtyards near the railway.

And here comes the evening, everyone is slowly dealing with my parents, and nobody follows me. At first I waited with the teacher in the group. Then the garden closed. She brought me out on the street, I remember sitting with her near a garden of colorful tires digged into the ground. I don’t know how long it was, but it was already dark. Suddenly I see the game. He ran after me. I don't know what the teacher was guided by, but she put my hand on Igar's necklace, said something like "hold fast and don't let go" and sent us home.

We came home in the dark. I and I, clinging to his necklace.



In short, my grandfather thought that my grandmother or father would take me and go to the country, my grandmother thought that my grandfather would take me, my father "left to Bukhara" and didn't think about anything. And Igar was let out for a walk, and he went to the garden, on the usual route that he walked every evening. So the dog was more responsible than the family.)



Once, as an adult, I asked my parents, "what fucking was it?" I replied, “Well, it did well” and no more commented.