In the class I was taught with Vityka. His eyes were irritated by the headstone, because the name is consonant. Zadyra, crazy, loved to be in the center of attention, had a two-three-man. He did not go to school, but studied poorly. The Huligan.

At school, we were fed lunch, but my mom always gave me 20 cents. You could buy a punch or a cake in the cake store, or go to the store and take a glass of delicious grape juice on the second floor of the shopping center. A glass of seeds from the grandmother. You can go home with an empty stomach. The way home seemed more fun.

On that day, I had a little bit of ruble in my pocket. A whole ruble. You could even go to the cinema or go to the neighboring micro-district in a cafe and eat ice cream from the machine.

And here after school I go and meet Vitka, who has not been in school for a week (sick).

We greeted, and I became Vítka complaining about his painful illness, telling about the difficult fate of the sick.

I was naïve and wrapped my ears.

At the end of his tirade, Vitka asked me if I had no money. He needs a ruble.

Truths and untruths ruble he stole from me.

I don’t blame anyone, thank God for the experience that was useful to me.

As soon as the ruble moved from my hands into the hands of a classmate, he, grabbing it, immediately hid and began to whistle with all his strength.

I was so shocked that I felt the unreality of what was happening.

After that, he stopped laughing and got a whole pack of rubles (about 100 pieces) out of his pocket. The same yellow, minted like mine. And he said:

There are so many good fools. How many idiots, so many rubles.

It was very offensive. But since then I have not given money to anyone, even if they are complaining.

Events of 1985, Surgut.