I am on the street (I am a girl). In front of the two girls, one in a lightweight and very lightweight (even according to current standards) dress, the other in some coffeeshop and so thin and stretching pants that through them you can see not only the style of her underwear, but also the mole on the pop. I hear them talking:
Fuck, there is something I want!
Not to eat, but to eat. There is electricity at home, Rolton. I hate him, shit.
I don’t have Roland.
to share?
“Well, go, let’s go to Lechka, he will feed!
No, I can not. I only had it on May 28.
I was only in April! Let’s go as if I went specifically, and you happened to meet me, right?
- Ah, "accidentally" met, "accidentally" went to eat, "accidentally" eaten two pots of food. And most importantly, how do you pay for the service "pay"? He will not take the money and will not sleep with him.
Fuck what to do? We cook... fucking... No money, nothing to eat either...
Get married to him! One would be fed as his wife, the other as his wife’s best friend.
- Fuck, that's why only with age you realize that the ugly household man who can feed you is better than those beautiful muscular guys who fuck you for pants, sweaters and a restaurant, right?
Here I am knocked on the rust, I pick up the phone and, without typing the numbers "imagine the conversation":
Here are two shells coming to you, eat the shell! Chase them! What is "why" I am going to you!
As these two looked at me.