A small "five", in front of me in the store enters my grandmother, 90 years of her, no less. Small, dry, humping, but moving boldly. There is no car, only carts. She's the only cashier (early in the morning, in the store except for us three no one) from the door shouts - "MilOya! Where are the trucks?” “No, they take them away!” “Who is it! ? “ “Your grandmothers take it!”

Grandmother took the basket and tasty so on the whole hall- “Here are the old cockroaches!”