In primary school, a music teacher took a book with children's songs from me and did not give it.

I went to her for several months almost every day, and she said that she had forgotten the book at home.

In the end, the teacher still gave it to me, and at the same time complained to my parents how obsessive I am.

After that, my mom said that if I took the debt from one of her acquaintances, I could keep the money for myself.

And I went to her all summer and as a result achieved my own.

I remembered after reading a couple of posts about inadequate neighbors, utilities and repairs.

During my studies at the institute I worked on the repair of premises in the role of bring/give/go nahuy do not interfere. This story was told to me by one of the workers. Further, for the simplicity of perception, from the first person.

We did repairs in the commercial area. According to the plan, one of the walls was capital, carrying a thickness of almost a meter (SPb, pre-revolutionary building). I attach to her a goose, drilling holes under the duvel. The brick is very good. The curtain comes in with great difficulty. And one of the bricks just shoots inside and a bright light is visible from the hole. Then from there, loud matts were heard, the smell of pepper, spicy with cheap tobacco, and the eyes appeared filled with blood.

What fucking did you do? Why did you break the wall? I will come!

And literally after 5 minutes appeared a resident of the neighboring utility apartment - a drunken man of an indefinite age in the trainers. Apparently he was the most communicative and, in this regard, appointed parliamentary from the neighbors. He threatened me and the brigadier to watch the destruction.

In the neighboring communal for 6 rooms in this place behind the wall was a kitchen. And in the wall, in a niche of about 70x70 was equipped with a shower (the only one for the entire apartment) closing with a dense curtain. As it turned out later, there was a wooden stove in this place before. The bathroom was lined with dirty white tiles originating from the time of the Soviet Union. Part of the tiles collapsed and a hole was found in the wall. But it was also apparent that part of the tiles had been absent for a long time. In general, even before our intervention, the room was a miserable spectacle.

– Listen here, you’re going to put all the tiles here and make it beautiful, you understand?

In principle, our basket was present and the brigadier decided that it would be right to eliminate the destruction. A normal, but inexpensive domestic gentle blue tile was brought from the past object. Also, we bought a simple mixer with leake, so to speak for moral damage. I put everything at the entrance to the shower.

The next day I was going to start work. The door opened to me by the alchemy in the trainers and began to scream. From his screams, matts and whispers, I realized that the tiles are shit, the mixer is shit, I am shit and he will complain.

What are you holding us for fools? Why are we shit? Normal tiles are Italian, not this.

Out of the rooms looked the residents and something approving bumped.

When I went into the kitchen, I shrugged. The whole plate was broken into a tiny piece. The first thought was to fuck this man, and then somehow became a pooher. He turned and left. He told me about the Brigadier.

Well, they go on, let the act be drawn up and submitted to the court.

Then the fun began. A commission came to assess the destruction. For a long time they wrapped in their hands the plan of the room and thoughtfully looked at the shower. The verdict was roughly the following. There should be no shower in the apartment according to the plan. The wall carried (according to their plans, there was no chimney or stove in this place) and it was seriously damaged. To eliminate it is necessary to lay the wall with bricks, and on the entire depth of the hole.

Then there were a lot of screams, matts, threats. All the neighbors were running to us. They were even a little sad, but nothing depended on us. They did not lay the wall themselves and I do not know how it ended, because we completed the object and left.

The turn. The cashier opens a cellophane bag with the buyer’s cash and eats a few nuts, binds the bag and pierces in the box. There is no pause in the line. The cashier noticed the question in his eyes:

How do I know what nuts you have? ? to ? to

Courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to act despite our fear.

An Italian acquaintance told him how he was riding a long-haul train in the winter:
“At night, I went for mineral water to the restaurant car, on the way back, with a bottle of water in my hands, saw in the room between the cars (tambour, I tell him), where glasses were broken and snow was thrown, three men of the topless drink vodka, and they, Misha! They! They look at me like an idiot!! to

Who are you studying with?

by Doctor
Look at my throat!

for the programmer
Remove the window!

by Translator
Translate a song to me!

by Economist
M is understandable.