In my childhood camp life happened to me one story. I was 13. Imagine the most ordinary children’s camp. Accommodation in a room for 5 people. They gathered six (this is important) girls, joked, joked, and decided to bow over the boys. They painted all the lips brighter with a red mask, which also left untransmitted red and difficult traces, and sent the boys for the night in their cheeks to kiss. The eleven-hour reboot has already ringed and the lights in all children's living spaces have been turned off, so we shouldn't burn stupidly. We enter the room, all such affectionate, we say, "I wanted to wish you, boys, a peaceful night, here and came to knock you before going to bed." The boys roasted, the cheeks folded, we kissed.



And here... Steps in the corridor... Well, the chief comes...Hana to us. From the "great mind and cleverness" all friendly and unconsciously do the same thing.



Hears a terrible crack, the door opens, the light turns on, the leader enters... And he sees the picture with oil: boys with girls in pairs in beds under blankets, boys all kissed, and one has two girls and a broken bed...