I am at the Institute of Traumatology. My leg broke. Half an hour ago, they placed a newcomer in the chamber - their boyfriend in the board, in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts with paparazzi and mirror glasses. The diagnosis is a rupture of the ligaments in the shoulder. The doctor explained to him that the operation required a bandage for subsequent fixation of the arm (we call them helicopters).

Sanya, so called the guy, quickly found on the Internet among the ads this bandage, slightly b/u, and asks a neighbor, a former colonel:

Uncle Cole, call me and make an arrangement. Or I am not very capable.

Uncle Cole took the phone and called the number:

Hello Hello good day. Are you selling bandages? What price? Can you deceive yourself? very well. Go to school, 12, I’ll go out, I’ll take it. What? How will I dress? Like a puppy, fucking.