I remember the story, 20 years ago. Village on the river Kostroma. Grandfather then put homemade pots on fish. Large cells such as those of the bars were descended into the water. And one day he sends my 14 and 9 year old brothers to check the pots. 2 km by bicycle along the trail in the forest. Not two hours, not three. The parents worried. 4 hours no - the mother has a quiet panic, 5 hours - hysteria. Grandfather goes on foot to look for the fireplace. After an hour they finally appeared. Now their story.

Arrived on the river. In one bowl a small fish. Here is the second half-meter. They pulled the pot on the shore. need to deliver. The elderly hand swings, that she should be caught for the frogs, and she falls off, there are teeth. Suffered and suffered. The old man said, Let’s kill her. They took a bagel and decided to knock through the bowl. and ah. and Bagrom.
Well, the shuka was not killed, but the bagger... attention... stuck. The painting with oil, a huge bowl, and no less huge, spinning bowl and a living tooth-like creature. I decided to load it on a bicycle. Naturally the fucking. They pulled the baggage. It happened somewhere in an hour. This is an infection, a life. I had to load the pot on a large and go to the house on foot. In the middle of the way, their grandfather caught them, dirty, tired, hungry. They did not crack, they ate the squid.