My younger brother and I were and often ride the electric car home/to the city. And for children under 8 years old (type) had their own rates, older - as an adult.

And then one day we’re going to go home again and approach the ticket box. We ask for tickets, which the cashier asks us for age.

We looked around, thinking, “to break or not?” "But since they were well educated, they decided to name the real age.

We told the seller that we were 10 and 12 years old, respectively. The saleswoman laughed at it and said, “Is this where you were taught to lie?” I bought children’s tickets.

It was 15 years ago. My friend went on a date almost "blindly" (there was only one vague photo of the lady), asked me after half an hour to call him to decide whether to run away from the date or stay. I said “OK” and, in order to shorten the time, scored Quake 3: Arena.

Call in 2 hours. I raise the phone and I hear, “Well, you and Ssssuka...”

I work on the ship. We are in Turkey in Tekirdaag. Last day of discharge. And I see a cat going in the direction of our boiler and jumping onto the deck. No one paid special attention to it. We landed and already in the sea noticed that the cat was left with us. What to do with him. We decided at the nearest parking lot to call the boat and transfer it to the shore. There is no parking, there is no cat. We searched for the crew, but we couldn’t find it. I thought he jumped out of the boat. We go back and see the cat sitting on the tank. It was several times. There is no parking, no cat. As soon as the ship moves, it’s cute. Everyone is used to it, even the name has been given, Skipper. But here we came to Samara to load. Arrived at the marsh. There are a lot of pigeons and they eat grain. Cats that eat pigeons. I see Skipper from the boat jump and to the cats, more precisely to the white cat. We thought he would come back. So he stayed in Samaria. Botzman then said to me, "You see Sereg, how much Skipper overcame for love, according to the standards of the cat, half the world has passed with us, all for love. Could it so?“I did not answer him at the time. Only now I thought I could)

Once in the universe I had a lecturer, who did not conduct a full call of the group, but named only the names of a few random students.

One day, on a pair, he starts a call, calls the first student's surname - no one, then the second - also not, then the third - again not.

There was a silence in the audience and a voice from the group: "Triple".

We are ordered to keep cold, but we are alive.

When I was a student, I rented an apartment in Kemerovo. My parents held all kinds of livelihoods in the village and from time to time gave me any provisions so that the child would not die of hunger. Once in the late autumn after another trip to the historic homeland, mommy, accompanying me to the city, says: "Soon we will be pigs, I, like a slaughter, will send you a telegram, so that you come for fresh food." Well, okay... In two weeks I sit at home, I drink tea with one-touchers. The call. I open the door - and there is a postman (a thick aunt of Motya) and with a frightening and mysterious voice says to me: "You have a telegram... sign up." I signed up. She stands and does not leave. “Something else?” I ask. “Yes no,” he replies. No, no is not so. I closed the door and read, “The seventh. Come to. “Mom.” Friends, when they read it, fell into a precipice.

So far no one can explain why Russia’s enemies are always those who have tomatoes, fruits, parmesan and chamomile, and Russia’s friends are always those who have nothing to eat.