I call my wife. Heck, he doesn’t take the phone.

In ten minutes he calls back. She cries, she cannot say words. Two minutes later, I find out that when I got the phone I broke it out and broke it, with her words right into pieces. It is worth noting that the phone was bought for forty thousand rubles. There is something to cry about.

I come home. I’m watching the riot so far.

I take the phone and go to another room. I look at the phone: the corners of the envelope and the cracks of the screen, right in the middle, crashed and broke. I think of myself: if only it was a protective glass. I remove the protective glass and, wow! the screen itself. I ask the wife from the room, said well and where the crack. She decided that I was mocking and let me be even more "disappointed". I give her the phone. She looks and understands nothing.

How is? Where is the crack? How did you do it?

I say :

The Magic!

I am preparing to hear a lot of thanks to myself. Her response killed me.

Was it that I was crying for an hour?

I love my wife.