Young men, a man and a woman, were talking. I happened to pass by, I heard, I was shocked. So far impressed...
Sorry, but I can’t meet you. I can’t do it without a serious relationship. I just can’t. I am afraid of a serious relationship. I am afraid... do you not understand? Of course, you have nothing to fear. You will stay with yours. You’re going to chase your motorcycle, play your music on your guitar... And I’m going to drive your girls out of our beds, like beaten cats... and where do you find them? And I will come into an empty house from work and wait. I will wait all the time. I’ll wait for you to drink a fake vodka and die after your next stupid concert. Or that you will be stabbed with a knife by an idiot in leather pants. Or that you will enter your trampoline into the wall, into the sidewalk pillar. Or you get AIDS. Or that heroin will kill you...I’m sorry, I want a different life. Therefore, we will not meet again..."

It would seem like an ordinary story. There was nothing to do with this monologue. He is banal, beaten, he is just boring. Remarkable in this monologue is different - it was not spoken by a woman. The woman stood and listened, smiling. A man spoke. The woman was allowed to smoke. On her jacket was a striped enotous tail.