One day my friend had a birthday. My young man and I decided, as he is an original guy, to give him a hand-painted flower pot. We successfully and creatively painted the pot and, so that it does not empty, planted a tree in it. The tree was named short and tangible - Philae. So, day X came and we gathered for our birthday. The pot with Phileas was packed in a wallet, filling it with a newspaper. I’m in the elevator with my wallet behind my shoulder. The elevator stops and people come in. Because the cabin is small, there is very little space.
The following dialogue follows:
(I): Misha, be careful not to strangle Phil!
(The people who entered, restlessly staring under their feet waiting to see the dog): Hey, do you have someone here? Does he bite?
No, Phil does not bite. He is in Gorka!
I will never forget the faces of the people who travelled with us.