The preamble. My friends and I rent a gym in the same school - three times a week, in the evenings we are going to play all kinds of sports. The relationship with the school administration is good, the cost of renting is very affectionate.

Once in the summer, the floor was crossed in the gym. Boards one to one, pressed and pressed - beauty. We decided, as an act of goodwill, to paint this matter, to apply all kinds of marks and at the same time to fix ceiling lighting - it is more pleasant when the marking is clear and the light in the hall is correct.
We bought everything we needed and came to the facility. Paint decided correctly - first layer of soil, then layer by layer of sector, zone and other art. The replacement needed lamps carefully in the center of the ceiling - there and rolled the tower.
Think - while we lay the ground, from the perimeter to the center - the bulbs are just changing, we leave a dry corridor, the tower is pushed out - and reached.
Boris was grounded. Boris - the guy is very initiative, sharp, but careful, in everything loves consistency and order - an excellent candidate. The truth is in all of this and not always the useful side is fascinating. Boris took a meter wide roll on a half-meter handle and rushed to work. On the tower in the center - the work also boils, the lamps are removed - put. We, the rest, go out, temporarily have nowhere to stick. They agreed to approach in forty minutes - Boris had to fit without problems with his long runs, agility and a meter roll.
Boris was perfect! He placed a cork with ground in the middle of the hall, near the tower, immediately took a good pace and went to wear the spiral, generously and densely grounding the floor from the perimeter to the center, gradually and logically narrowing the twists. The joy of the controversial work wiped out of him the thought of a "dry corridor" - and he carefully "domed" his spiral to a small fifth where the tower and the corridor were located. Boris stopped, relying on the handle of the roll, wiped his forehead and admired his work. The look! So fast, so carefully, so beautiful! But... Something deep in his mind was trying to tell him that it wasn’t all right. When our illuminator gave a voice from the tower, the picture became clearer - Boris "painted" in the middle of the big gym himself and the one who was on the tower, leaving no slope. The floor is covered with a good layer of viscous odorable and hard-to-wash substance of grassy green color. I don’t want to go into it, and it’s a pity work.
In all radius - the distance significantly exceeds the world record for jumping in length from the spot. Wait for drying for 24 hours with good ventilation.
When we returned, we saw the excellent, fresh, starting to dry out of the first layer, and in the middle of this magnificence, two unhappy people who were not so happy with such beauty. The idea of how to save the victims and at the same time to cause minimal damage to the done was found quickly. Wheel on wheels.
The wheels didn’t hold – well.
We decided to take the tower "on a tie" and pull it to the entrance together with our masai rabbits. Someone suggested – why just catch them so – let them
Born on the path blur traces from the tower. There was gambling. Transmitted the essence to the center of the hall - they understood and in sign of consent, approved.
They ran behind the thread. Targeted, ended, Bora caught him from the first time, passed on to the second, himself began to adapt to the accompanying painting. Somehow he settled on the lower curtains, rushed over them himself, took a roll, targeted. The second also hanged on the folds, a little higher. I had some unclear association with Kin-Zha-Zha.
Why did this idiot not tie the rope to the bottom? Where did we look? He fixed the wire one-and-a-half meters higher and just sat there, dragging the center of gravity of this already not very stable tower to a critical level. We were careful with the train.
Bora was made to hide traces. We added a little and here all the laws laid down for such a construction were fulfilled. She quickly realized that with such a balance, with such a high center of gravity and the point of application of force slightly lower, it was much more pleasant to fall than to move gradually. So then. The torch climbed - the upper from the pelvic for some reason rose on his wardrobe, which gave an additional momentum of strength. Bore, well, he brilliantly understood everything - and tried to jump over the opposite fence to provide a counterweight, but failed, turned over the coryto, and fell himself, lightening the base of the tower, and he had nothing to hinder spectacularly, with the passenger on board, to complete the fall. From the upper platform of the drive-through, a cage with the remains of dry tint and small garbage, which was left there three hundred years ago, during previous repairs, was fucked up.
by PS. It was carefully done...
by PPS. No one was hurt.