Xxx: Shut off at the moment with the weapons babies. Pizdec is like a rage: you watch any disaster or incident - everywhere babies scream. Everyone is scared, but only the grandmothers whirl to the pain in the ears. I can, too, but in such situations I didn’t whip like the entire male sex. I understand the screams of pain, the screaming of fear and the same pain, and so on, but the fool whispers it is a shit at all. Especially the wounded. You lie, you can't breathe from the pain, the beetle hurts and turns because of a huge amount of painful impulses from the body, turns and blows, as if this was lacking, and some creature says that the drum membranes are bursting.

Yyy: The wreckage is nature. It was loudly penetrating, so that everyone was scared, and everyone heard that her leopard was cracking. and escaped.

When I came to the nursery, my battles were weak and quite tolerable. After filling out documents and a couple of humiliating procedures, I was sent to a prenatal room with these light battles.

There already suffered a girl with the "rare" name Katya.

Katya was quick (as far as the stomach allowed) and nervous walking around the chamber: from door to wall, from wall to window. The door wall, the door wall, the window wall.

At some point she stopped sharply, attached a towel to the wall, grabbed it with her face and screamed with a strange low voice. After screaming, she started walking again. The door-wall window-wall... Then it stopped and screamed. Then she walked again.

I lay on the bed and watched her throwing. I thought that Katya was somewhat strange, that Katya was a bad actress and clearly overplayed. Apparently, the word “little” was thought.

“Well, fighting and fighting, why make such a tragedy out of this?” I did not understand.

And then (within an hour and a half) Kaakak understood

Sometimes a man is like a whole planet: he rotates, he rotates, and there is no life.

When I was 16, I joined the Evening Moscow newspaper. Newspapers at the subway.
Payment is calculated depending on the number of sold books.

The point was new, so at the device I was told I would have to scream to find buyers.

I couldn’t scream, so on the first day I sold only two or three newspapers.
In addition, there were interesting, but expensive magazines in my office bag, which I was ashamed to offer.

Realizing that I would not earn money in this way, in the evening after work - I started training.
Remember “Little Hole”, where Jimmy screamed at night, dreaming of becoming a “Layer”?
Here I remembered.

All night I screamed in front of the mirror: “The Evening Moscow newspaper, the magazine “Expert”, the newspaper “Work and Wage”... Overall, I trained and developed confidence.
The parents turned their fingers at the whisker, but they did not interfere.

The next day, inspired by the imaginary success, I took the job.
Imagining myself, neither much nor little, the poor Jimmy from Little Oakland, I overcame the fear and began to scream, as I thought, in all my voice.

Five minutes later, police came to me.
I checked the documents and they were okay.
I bought the most expensive magazine.

It took me here.

I spoke in such a way that the passers stumbled at the exit of the crossing, and the grandmothers grabbed their hearts.
Oral to chrysot and accelerated heartbeat.
Oral, as if my life depends on it.
“The evening of Moscow, Expeyeyeyeerert, slave-oot and salary-aat!” spread throughout the district.

Strangely enough, it has brought fruit.
By the evening I sold almost all the newspapers, about half the magazines and a little souvenir products.

Satisfied with myself, I drove home and expected to earn even more the next day.

And then more.
and more.
I will become a millionaire.
I will buy the newspaper.
I will be a successful entrepreneur and my parents will be proud of me.

The next day I shook.
My attempts to shout out something sounded like this: “Ashshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsherrrrrahaya sssyvvaaa” – such a whispering whisper that I could barely hear.

To my surprise, I sold half the newspapers and a few magazines.
It turns out, people who live nearby are convenient to buy newspapers and magazines on the way home.
They greeted, communicated, interested in sales and bought.

When I stopped crying, I started crying with less force, but the same intensity.
Buyers are getting more every day.
I was given a second bag, with wheels, so that I could take more press for replacement.

My business ended unexpectedly.

In the middle of the second month, when I had about a hundred regular clients, I was called by a coordinator.

“Vipman84, you’re doing a good job. Such valuable employees should not disappear, so we put you on a new point, and yours will be given to Ivanova. They don’t want to do it, but they want to earn it all. Don’t worry, you’ll find customers quickly, the boy is capable.”

"And so that your experience does not go in vain, this is Alexander, he will stand with you on the spot. You have to teach him everything to sell like you do. And while you are together, divide your pay by two.”

The next morning, the coordinator was long wondering why I decided so abruptly to quit.
But the decision was made, and a day later I already found a new one - a courier for the delivery of printed products.
Books are sold on the street.

But this is a completely different story.

Vasya was so tolerant that he called the bosses, the government, and the homosexuals the same word.

The matter was in my childhood, and we were then ten to eleven years old (year of action 1990-1991). A new guy appeared in our courtyard, well, and we are all friendly - such a good company (truly, we were a good company), well, and according to all the laws of the court, we must accept, get acquainted with the newcomer, well, and make him a "board" of their own.

Everything was done and fulfilled. Did he great to pursue, while his parents were engaged in unloading and transferring furniture, told us what and where we have interesting things, and where you can go, and where you should not go - all from a pure soul, and from a pure heart. They even brought us to Kolka for guests (one of our company), where they played with the whole crowd, and Mother Kolie fed us all for lunch. No need to say that the bad ones - they have eaten, so it was done. And they went to visit me, and I also fed them, and otherwise - it was normal.

So, we split closer to the evening, and agreed that tomorrow we will be chasing football. The next day, we crossed, as agreed. They chased the soccer, well, and this crendel (Yurick – if you read this, you will remember) says:

Come to visit me.

What is not. Go to. We did not eat lunch there because his parents were not at home. Well, the toys played in Jurikovsky, the photos looked in the album, and again on the street. The day ended normally.

The next day, Yuri came to our black cloud companion. Destroyed and evil.

Why was money stolen?! to

What money?

- In the bank of coffee, with an Indian, was. This is not my treasury, older sisters, there were twelve rubles! (I don’t remember exactly how much – but the sum, for the Soviet boy, is really enormous).

We did not take!

In the morning, after you left, they disappeared. Give it back, or I’ll get into it.

Well, in short, this is how badly it went out... Well, of course, they got caught up with each other, they all rejected, and NEVER there was such a thing that even a penny of a stranger, even one of us took – NEVER!

Okay, I have to return. Of course, and the relationship in the company we have little for those few days that the money was collected, the parents asked, the bottles were collected on all the sweaters, and under the column they were washed to surrender - spoiled. Well, how can they not ruin if one of us is a thief!

We gathered that damn money, well, to him, to Yurk. I knock on the door and my mother opens it.

Call to Yuri.

He is at Grandma.

My grandmother is with my grandmother and we go. At the entrance we sit, we think...Maybe he was sent to his grandmother in punishment? Maybe we already know it, and we are deceiving it? What to do? The boy must be saved! Shortly decided and went.

I call and my mom opens again.

“Look, take,” we stretch the money, “these are the ones that are missing.

Boys, what are you talking about? What money?

- From the bank you, who with the Indian, disappeared. Here is. We have gathered. We don’t know who took it.

From which bank? Come in and tell us everything normally.

Well, we went, we showed the bank, we told you what and how it was in detail, we all look over, our noses hanged, because... well, it turns out that this WOR is standing among us, blowing up, and also breeding the guilty builds, but the fool is not admitted!

This bank, guys, has just been released. So there was no money there. And Jura...He has already done so. I lied to him, forgive him.

Somehow the story ended. With Juric then, “for some reason” we were not friends.