A friend leaves for Altai for 2 weeks, a conversation in asskoe:
The Rebel:
I am leaving on Sunday.
Feels to:
How am I without my faithful boss?
Feels to:
Who will turn my pope’s head on a scotch in the morning and say he’s alive, only tired?
Feels to:
Who is going to squeeze the coat to cling to the captain?
Feels to:
Who poured the earth into the pipe of the jungle, so that he would shout, Earth, Earth captain?
Feels to:
Who will escape from the tractor to the galapagos for an accidental port prostitute?
Feels to:
Who will masterfully take our brigade out of the armor of her Majesty’s soldiers?
Feels to:
Who will fill his pockets with gold piasters, and then drop all his wealth on the rum in a moment?
Feels to:
Who will jump overboard just to raise the triangle of his captain?
Feels to:
Who will ride on waves on giant turtles and on land on giant mosquitoes?
Feels to:
What is it??????? to
Feels to:
Without you, I would be a miserable land rat.
The Rebel:
I forgive. But sometimes you have to go to the beach and visit relatives. But I will return. I will definitely come back. After all, if you at least once went out to the sea, fought with the storm and took on board other people's ships. If you’ve eaten the kisses of port prostitutes and Roma. You will never be different again. I will definitely come back.