It is not my story, but my father’s.

In some centuries, my father was on courses in the glorious city of Minsk. The usual story - there is money for vodka, and to snack with a leaflet. Well, the most sober was given money and sent to the universes of the Capital (the Minchans know, there Jacob Kolas the Bronze sits). Minecraft people are interesting. He stands in line, and in front of him:
Give 200 grams of catfish.
300 grams of dog liver
His turn is right.
One and a half kilograms of livery. There are 6 bulldogs waiting in the room.
There is no scene. Then it runs. The Curtain