My daughter was in the first class, there was an ISO lesson that day. I take her from school, we go, we talk. She tells me, "Mommy, we painted a goose today, and one boy, in order to decorate it even more, cut off his hair and glued it so that it would be mocked, and we put him a pair.

How, how was it possible? ? to ? to He did not regret his hair, came up with five for his creative approach, non-standard thinking, creativity, just regret him.

Since then, between us, the underground name of this boy, goose)))

Years eight or nine I was, brought to the "children's world" of our military town assembly torpedo boats with an electric motor, worth 14 p.

The boat literally dreamed of me, the number of boxes with the boat in the store was aimed at the number zero, but my parents rejected my idea of buying because the self-lipped models were everything in the apartment (on the ceiling, under my feet, in the servant), and the price at the time was bite.

I lost my rest, there were three boxes with boats left, and eventually decided to go out of the store in pieces.

Waited when the sellers would go into the box, went into the box without opening and pulled out the electric motor (the first thing that got under his hand), left the store, from the adrenaline until the skin smoked, he ran home without touching the ground.

The next day, my dad took me to the store, behind the boat, and I still hired it. There was one box left on the shelf, I almost lost consciousness from joy, shaken by anticipation.

The vendors packed the box to check the completeness, look, and there is no motor. We did not sell the boat.

My emotions on the way home could not be described in words.

Then I thought deeply about my actions and their consequences.

The teacher was stolen.

Fairly and honestly the fate dealt with me.

Xxx: Once, when the hryvnia was introduced, and it was even heavier in value, I bought my first glasses for my money. It cost 30 hryvnia. I go, look at the sides, surprised by the dramatically improved resolution of the surrounding world. There... the grass is not just green, and the grasses are separate... the asphalt is not just gray, but has a complex facture, with different shades and different shades... op-pa. money... on the asphalt. of 50 grams. So in the first half an hour, the glasses paid off. It was not a small amount.

Xxx: And I once really ran away from the man so, and he ran straight after me.

I came back in the evening from work, I crossed the courtyard, headed to my entrance and I see a black figure moving toward me through the courtyard (winter, late evening, it is pretty dark in the courtyard). I accelerate the step and on the move I get the keys (it saved me in the end that I got them before I went into the entrance), the figure accelerates too, in the end I quickly type the code on the entrance door, but the gateway was long (i.e. There were no options to stop and pull her onto yourself), and the figure is already very close and I already understand that it is moving intentionally towards me. I open the door of the entrance and fly up the stairs, live on the fourth floor, run and pray that the castle in the door this time does not come in!!! A man blows behind me, between us two passes, I fly to the door (keys in hand!!!) between me and this shit one pass, I insert the key, turn - the lock worked!!! I fly into the apartment and clamp the door naturally in front of his nose and immediately on the inner claw - outside the pin on the door, then the silence.

How I trembled after – not to pass on, I called my best friend and they and my husband came to pick me up, just couldn’t be there alone that night. Until now, as I remember the feeling that I may have just escaped death – as if I run down that staircase again and pray for the castle to work.

A case postponed for tomorrow acquires an honorary status – a matter of the future.

You can be innocent a thousand times, but don’t go to the police without a lawyer.
(A known lawyer

I had a longtime client and companion. Not on the bench - bread to eat and coffee in the park to drink, but on the bars. Not hard, but in any case – offensive and with consequences.

The case was so.

On an autumn, dark, rainy November evening, this gentle and hearty idylist went out on the six-lane Jurmal Highway. Charitable highway: flat asphalt in places, acceleration and braking lanes, a two-meter fence and a fighter separates it. In the summer - limit of 100, in the winter - 90. Not without defects, but who without them? There are no lights anywhere. Somewhere a fence – as if his mol had eaten. But overall not bad. Do it better and then criticize, right? There are pedestrian bridges. and two.

But I distracted. It happens.

There was nowhere to rush our hero, so when at the end of the speed lane a pair of bombs jumped across, the speed of his racing car was about 70 km/h. Having demonstrated the wonders of extreme driving, our hero almost managed to circumvent them. It is hardly counted. He grabbed one with a mirror, and the other with a strong pencil on the back door.

“What did the bomziki do when they crossed a six-band road with a fence in the dark?“Ask of you. And I will tell you that you are not local! Locals know: on the other side of this route there are "houses" and garden houses.

Yes Yes Yes! The same gardens, where the plantations are carried in the summer and where the bomziki inhabit in the winter, simultaneously burn these houses, going to meet Peter or Petteris, depending on the location. Everyone can meet the owner of the house in the spring in his house. And some of them have the view of the veteran of hot spots and the cynicism of the pathologist. But I was distracted again. It happens.

While our hero was running around the car and called an ambulance, police, a bombardment who got the door in his ass, took his feet in his hands and, successfully repeating the attempt to storm the citadel, literally left the gardens. The second, having tried, realized that the meeting with the mirror did not go without consequences, and with a broken edge you can not escape far. I agree. I know by myself.

From the protocol of the road police is known that in the conditions of poor visibility, in the dark time of day, without reflectors, the victims crossed the multi-band highway in the wrong place, one victim was in the state of alcoholic intoxication... and further on the text. Get, sign up, no, we do not take the rights, wait for an answer.

The answer came in a couple of weeks. The initiation of a criminal case. This is always the case when there are victims. They are light and medium. Broken ribs and broken ass.

The investigation began and here we remember the epigram. Never, hear, never go alone to meetings if you are mentioned in a criminal case! Don’t go out in Africa and meet with an investigator alone.

Everything is simple and sad:
“Say, my dear and naive friend, could you avoid the clash?
Not at all, dear detective.
Why do you think so? Oh the naive citizen!
It was dark, and they jumped out right in front of the hood.
Do you want to drive slower? Could you stop, you think?
I was driving 70km instead of 90km. They jumped out...
But the rules do not prohibit you from driving 50 km/h. 90 km/h is the maximum speed limit, not the minimum speed. The minimum speed sign looks like white numbers on a blue background on a round sign.
"But after all, the flow speed was 90 km/h and I needed to fit into the stream!
Thank you, I have no more questions.

And there was an investigative experiment, but in the day and in the dry time.

And there was a trial, but through Zoom.

And our hero-idealist was sentenced to one month in prison and one year on condition. By way of way, depriving him of his rights for three years and issuing a sentence, which he will bear for the next ten years, and which will prosecute him after repayment. As long as he does not violate the rules for another year. any of them. Otherwise, a conditional year like those pants becomes real.

What about the bombs, you ask? They are all well, I think. The second, like the first, escaped. Only the next day. From the hospital. They were not in court. There was no lawyer. It’s not my fault, our hero said.

Until the last moment he waited for the judge to say, “Well, it’s absurd! The man is innocent!" or the prosecutor with a clever smile ticks under the ribs and says, "How we played you! You were filmed with a hidden camera!”

No one said. As far as the camera is concerned, it almost worked.

Have you read the message to the Federal Assembly?
Putin is telling stories.
What this time?
Something from Kipling.