I have two cats. The first elder walked on his own for a long time, and the second spent the night yesterday in the yard for the fourth time. I go out this morning to look for a young darmood, I hear a whisper from the garages. I approach and understand that the monster has climbed into the garage and walked from there, the situation is dull and impasse. But here from where not to take with the encyclopedic knowledge of the area, there is a local aboriginal. He cleverly explains to me that a cat is mowing from the roof of the garage, where there is a separate pit. It becomes clear that I can't smoke or drive the animal out of there, and it's not fun to forever hunt here, and most likely, hunger, instincts and darkness will allow you to pick it up in the evening. And at the same time with this thought, because of another garage, my older cat gracefully rolls. I don’t think long, I take him on my arms and say, “Well, fuck him, then I’ll take this and go.”
Possible variants of the epic final (choose to your taste):
This man’s eyes should have been seen.
A man in shock.
The curtain.