I remember getting stuck at home like a full night. I want to eat, I have no strength. I went into the kitchen, oh, a pot on the table and smells delicious. I looked, there was a soup. I didn't use the plate, I washed it afterwards, and here the soup is a little bit completely, the whole stuff. I took a spoon, sat down at the table, sat down, ate. It is delicious, but hot, dog. Waiting for fifteen minutes, still hot, and eating hunting. I sit down, but I eat. My mother walks into the kitchen and looks at me with her eyes:
What kind of fucking soup do you eat? He is still cooking.
I looked under the pot, and there was a fire... And I still thought that I was so uncomfortable sitting at the table, my legs have nowhere to go...