When I was young, I lived in the glorious town of Konotope. In the neighboring entrance lived an old alcoholic woman, whom everyone simply called Froska. She was famous for appearing without invitation at all weddings, funerals and other events where you could raise your degree.
One summer, she came to a funeral, heated herself thoroughly, and then joined the funeral procession. At the end of the ceremony, her legs were no longer held, she lay on the cemetery grass and fell asleep.
She was awakened at night by the joint action of the desire to flatter and someone's loud voices. Froska slipped to the fence and saw a guy with a girl, in his hands holding a suitcase and a bottle of wine, which he insistently tried to cater to his girlfriend. The lazy went away.
And then, out of the cemetery fence, a clumsy hand stretched out, and a chilling, humble voice said, “Listen, guy, give me!”
A second later, the guy and the girl disappeared at maximum speed, dropping a bottle and a suitcase. Froska, having gathered all her strength, overcame the fence, devastated the bottle and felt human again. As an honest law-obedient citizen of the USSR, she took the suitcase to the militia in the morning (there, while the protocol was drawn up, the stomachs exploded). The boy was quickly found, although he stopped bingeing only after a month. Frossk became a local attraction.