“Life is pain!” – philosophically said the doctor, thoughtfully considering an object very similar to a giant ripe straw. “Mirabel” or “Anna Spet”?

What do you think? Knowing the passion of the doctor for horticulture, I realized that it was most likely about the varieties of strawberries, but I could only answer him with an obscene silence. The violet object of attention was justified in a cute nickeled gauge. The size of the guest was unknown. The patient looked at us through the eyes of an adult kangaroo and chewed his lips.

Why did you turn this jewelry on a member, liar? Want to charm your wife? Did you get married by accident in a washing machine?

The patient was mysteriously silent.

And what? I pull the key and twist what you’ve twisted, you’re a robot! Member of the museum...Mudozvon, forgive the hospice!

When trying to touch the purple, the body turned over and issued a scream of such beauty and perfection that the famous tenor Pavorotti, hearing this, would instantly lose half his beard from jealousy. Get up early, young man. If the jewelry is not removed, the process of swelling, inflammation and necrosis can provide you with a career in the church choir. Here you will enjoy the hearing of the parishioners with an unseen falsehood. Come on, go on, carousel

I am totally for nature and its creation. I love everything and everything. Therefore, the desire to feed the white from the hand causes positive emotions and affection. But what kind of a white man is trying to chew on a puffy tail when he eats?!!! The Nuts!! On your own hand!! In fact, take a rodent for the most expensive! With a rough tail.

Not wise, he wrapped with a sterile bandage the first phalanx of the index finger dissolved on the ribbons. There was a cute bone from the farce. No one needed a manicure nail rolled under his feet. A young naturalist with a green face smelled a healthy cotton with nasatyre and remembered the maternal rhythms of the word "white".

I was treated for a cold for 5 years. I decided to make a soda inhalation. For the completion of the process, it was planted on a table before a pot with a boiling solution of soda. Covered, grind, blanket... and left unattended. How it happened there, I do not know. Only the pot the child turned on his feet. He lost consciousness instantly, without touching. And I lay in the boiling water for a while until one of the adults came in to ask about the process of therapy... I was at this address as one of the four “Surgeons”.

“Shocks” carried a child with third-degree burns of 40 percent of the body.

“Cardiologists” fought for a grandmother with cardiogenic shock.

The "psyches" reassured the father of the family, who, with a foam in his mouth, rushed to get his wife.

I drove my mom with gentle beating and suspicion of a severe shaking of the content of the skull.

Temperature... Temperature... High blood pressure... Radial bone fracture in a typical place... Temperature... Transportation... Food poisoning... Temperature...

At five in the morning.

Bad with the heart of an adult.

Sending according to the replacement algorithm. All the “specialists” were busy. 9th floor without elevator. Box with SMP laying, portable cardiograph, suitcase with "resuscitation". At the bell from the door of the old “... And who is Tam?

“I want to ask if this is Greenpeace and if my grandmother doesn’t have a handcut to save. But the sense of humor died somewhere between the fourth and fifth floors. And after entering, it is unclear whose, shit on the seventh - there was an attack of misanthropy.

The old grandmother. and clean. and modestly. Untouchable is.

What happened, grandmother?

So be comforted!!...

What, I’m sorry?

The comfort, I say.

What’s wrong with the oak?!...

"Dick, the daughter was in the afternoon, washed and cooled... and the puppy... the outbreak put on the servette... She is there! He may be burning down! And on the foot! Or in the cold!! Like chicken, with the heart you do bad things.

..................................................

I count to ten with my eyes closed. I realize that I am an Indian who sold Manhattan for a beard and a mirror. Must be silent. “No, silence is even worse – I can fall asleep.” I stand.

Okay grandmother. Let me clean the floor. It’s already cold, so it’s okay. Is there anything else bothering you? No is? I will go then...

A rare collection. meet at the entrance. The young man with maximum respect accompanies to the apartment and further. The sick lie across the bed in a decorative position and suffers. He answers questions with a painful delay due to the unbearable difficulty of being. “What a burning! The second day of the month. This is not your bride with Mac. And in general, all around males, goats and fools! “Life is calm, no exotic. The look is vulgar. There is no temperature. Pressure is normal. The shorts are appreciated. After the intramuscularly delivered Noshpa, Analgin and Dimedrol, miraculously healed and removed by the promising walk of the much-suffering body to the toilet. So I want to write the diagnosis of "menstrual dementia" on the map, until the teeth are reduced...

Reflectively and responsibly, the cat Bacilla spoke of the comments, watching the fight of two pretenders against her mind, honour and, a little, conscience. The applicants held a debut and duel in the garage of the station, so they provided themselves with spectators and fans. Bacilla was “local” and the brides were “travelled”. Every spring the battle was public and ended with a handful of kittens with funny medical names, which then traveled around the city.

Directly on the road came this composition - "Tango three". One could speak, the second successfully supplemented the speech with bright gestures and outcry, the third was a reliable support for the first two. They, without reducing speed, crossed the car-filled prospectus along the most difficult trajectory. To show this in the circus, the artists in the sweat of the face and... not the face... train for months. We sat in the RAFE with open eyes and waited for fresh customers. by Fig! Did not wait. We went further, to the hospital. In the salon was a sad patient, a doctor of science, a professor. A sober sheep. Complicated fracture of the ankle. He stumbled onto the door in two stairs.

They were taken from the clinic, who arrived there, almost on four, a poor man. There was something heavy in the garage. “He shot.” He was driving in the car on his knees, on a blanket, laying his head and relying on a chair. The driver entered and rode around all the cribs and cribs. He was taken out of the car at the reception room. The man was so exhausted that he cried out of pain when trying to move.

The end of the change is approaching. The end of this pornographic triathlon “You. to you. It’s you, life goes on. Life is beautiful, they say.

© Dmitry Fedorov, "Hello, the ambulance was called?"