The late autumn. I am standing near the house, heating the car, cutting the snow from the glass. Lexus is parked nearby. It turns out, a solid uncle, sixties years of age - hollow, with a professor's beard, glasses in an elegant fence, a coat. He smokes. From the back door, a grandmother with the appearance of an aristocrat comes out, behind her a four-year-old boy, cheerful, energetic, with the face of a speaker. While the grandmother was struggling with the bags, the boy, with knowledge of the matter, runs to the frozen grove and begins to slip on it. Uncle does not react, silently smokes, lazyly observes him – like an army general for recruits.



Probably my grandfather and grandmother took my grandchildren for a weekend, I thought.



And here, as they say - according to the law of the genre, the ice breaks, and the boy is immersed in cold and dirty water with his whole body. Tears and sweat. The grandmother throws the bags, rushes to him, pulls out of the pit. Uncle didn’t even shake up, stood up, looked at all this ugliness, tightly stretched, breathed out desperately, and said in chief bass:

Artemika, I think it’s time to fuck you.