I work in the printing. The customer comes, I wish, he says, business cards, the most ordinary, on the white card is a dull text. I sit in the stove (the case under the evening), drink tea with biscuits, stick in the computer. What a text, I say. The customer smiles mysteriously, climbs into his pocket, pulls out the dish. Do you remember such an uncomfortable square hernia? I, carefully holding a friendly expression on my face, take the hernia, start to touch it to whistle into the drive on my rare bank. I hear behind my back something so whispering, so whispering, I turn around, I see the customer’s face with the expression of religious horror. I notice a discette lying in a plate with cookies. Don’t go down to me when I eat!! On the third day, it is only in the morning to step on the threshold, the whole office begins to rust like bamboo salmon. And they ask if I will feed the system with cookies again, or he gave in the sides. The Scuck.