The Day of Diplomacy, or the Mouth of a Baby

I live in a relatively new multi-level house. All the neighbors are mostly poor and intelligent people, everyone knows each other, greeting each other, smiling, and so on. Everything is clean and gentle, you get used to the good quickly. But for some time over my apartment, a neighbor handed over an apartment to people from the Caucasus. Although I live my whole life in the southern city in the lowlands of the Volga, but I have never learned to distinguish them, in a word - from the mountains.
According to my sound estimates, there are 2 families with children living there, bragging, mocking, celebrating, and so on, sometimes until two nights at the top of the engine and eternal dismantling. Shortly received already.
Life taught me several times (and very unpleasantly), so I somehow restrained myself, because after 5 years of service in the Air Force and more than 20 years in the police (now retired) the plank fell at my head instantly, crumbled into all the heavy, for which I myself scratched (then), the bosses were not even weary (fooled), and as far as possible scratched the "not a bad employee", and so I endured these scratches, sought opportunities to cut them somehow under the law.
They began systematic Saturday drinks with dances, exits to smoke in the entrance, the bazar, the whistle, the roar...
Well I could not withstand somehow and the hour at 2 at night went up, several times called the phone, came out bitter age 40-45. I said – not good, problems will be created, and all this is correct, without threats, without mentices – type diplomatic.
He says to me, “We are all neighbors, let’s finish.” Well, slowly they actually finished, calmed down.
And so every Saturday. And I go and diplomatically reassure them.
I have to say that after the divorce my son lives with the ex. He comes to me on Friday and we work together on the weekend. The son is 16 years old (I am 48), he is somewhere 180 in height, but looks like an unformed calf or a camel, thin, lively, with good gray-blue eyes. Year 2 is engaged in handball fighting, but not a champion (maybe not).
All these "mountain holidays" took place in his presence. He kept silent, but when discussing, he whispered and said: Yes! Not well! I have to do it!
Here is the issue of diplomacy.
On another Saturday, according to the tradition, about an hour at night went to calm down. But!! Together with the “neighbor-hort” they spit out two other black devils and said, “What do you want? and!! You can’t see people resting.“And all this with a clear rush, said, went off from here. I feel the plank falls, it darkened in my eyes... But life is an experience, the next ass in old age is not hunting. I went down to myself, I think the ments will call, and there is a bell at the door. What do I think about business? I am trembling of adrenaline and outrage. The son also came out of his room, silently watching my body movements. We open - these traits stand and say the outdoors of the shit (this is the type of I) to talk hope. I go out and I already know that the plank has fallen, that all, the next flight is shining for me, and I did not notice that my son also came out after me.
They began by saying, “What are you hoping? A!"Only I was about to open my mouth and here because of me on my side a juicy, shaking blow to the jaw of the bullshit. Simple and clear. The hell lay down in a modest way. I on the autopilot (already set up) jumped from the soul to the "neighbor-hill", also lay without sound, and the son with a straight leg in the stomach of the third. He went into the neighboring door. I wanted to get by inertia already, but our neighbors on the site flew out - climbed, said it was not necessary (were probably behind the door) intelligents bl.... One of the neighbors, a doctor, moved these, licked on the cheeks, as if they moved, stood, whispered something, but slipped to themselves on the stairs...
So, all my trouble with diplomacy and the theory of peaceful settlement of relations with the mountaineers (read - with Chur...my) resolved in 5 seconds with the submission of a simple boy, whose diplomacy in their courtyard world begins and ends this way. The blacks traveled quietly day after day through the entire camp, so far without consequences. The son now no longer blaspheme, I speak like an adult, although he has not changed in behavior, the same body-camelion.