I go home, I approach my entrance. A grandmother comes to me and says, “Oh, you’re a snuck, why did you take my table?” By the way, these grandmothers are always, all the days, sitting under the corner of the entrance, and they always had a taburet there. I replied to my grandmother, "Why do I have this table, I didn't take it," but the answer was only, "Well, hold on..."



Two days passed. I go out of the apartment and see that there are 3 bags of garbage lying near my door, and judging by the smell, there was a rotting fish. It was not hard to guess who left those packages. I put on gloves, took garbage bags and threw them out to the place where grandmothers normally live. The “war” lasted one year.



A year after the start of the "war" with the grandmothers, the neighbor from the 4th floor decided to do repairs, but first he began to throw out the old furniture. When the neighbor began to bring out the chairs, one of the grandmothers recognized among them the same grandmothers, which she thought I had stolen.She flew into the neighbor and began to scream at him, what a mu*ak, etc. After that the grandmothers stopped throwing their garbage near my door, but they still call me a beast and a wicked.



This is a gesture.