We go somehow with a friend from purchases from Poland, haishniki gave a fine, no mood. There suddenly a healthy cockroach crosses the road. I squeeze with all my strength into the brake and with the screw of the paddle I stop in front of the cock. He stood there for a few seconds, staring at the car, and then moved toward us. At first I wanted to get rid of him, but then I thought it would make him even more angry. Here a friend drops the glass, climbs, depicts a machine in his hands and screams: "Stop, I will shoot! and PIFP! Tra-ta-ta-ta!" Kaban stared at him confusedly, apparently mentally twisting a copt at the whisky, and ran into the woods, realizing that there was nothing to connect with us.