In the mid-1990s, my husband was at a wedding. All like everyone, competitions, fun, vodka. The wedding went in its turn – hmella, the guy sitting in front of me climbed faster than the others. So it happens. He began to smite the people sitting next to him, the girls, the guys with whom he could scatter his eyes, and reacted to comments with aggression. In one word, the monkey chained.

They took him out on the street for prevention, and this ugly man pulled out the pen-pistol, the older generation probably remembers it was such in bad times, and let's scream that it will hit anyone now. In general, the pen was removed, the mouth was slightly removed and released. The wedding went well, there were no more excesses.

And in the morning, familiar mints tell how this dwarf fled to the house, took the calash with three shops and a couple of grenades. They intercepted him a kilometer from our restaurant. As I said, your documents? Take the machine out of the bag. While the store inserted the bucket, they had time to turn the fool.

And so over time more and more you realize from what heat the wedding of a hundred people jumped.

P. S is

If he was then three or four years, after sitting down, he shot two people in a couple of years.

His further fate is unknown to me.