Xxx: So I’m twenty and penny years old. I am a lawyer student. I get my first car, my parent’s seven. According to the laws of the genre, the domestic ashes often asked for love and attention in the garage. This time I had a difficult battle with the transmission box.

The own history. A hot July day. I drive with transmission. Of course, hands on the elbow, legs, face, scarf and even hair in oil. After an hour of forging, I am overwhelmed by thirst and I remember that at the exit of the garage cooperative there is a barrel (in combination with a boiler), where quas is sold for spill.  I wipe out what is wiped out, I close the garage and I go to rejoice.



Picture with oil: I am standing in the shade near a barrel and drinking my promised 0.5 quas in a plastic cup.



A couple passes by: a burdensome aunt, whose appearance shows that she loves to argue in the ranks and a small man. Aunt shakes me with contempt, looks at me and says to her companion (but so that I hear):



“Pash, look, you’re so young and you’re already cuddly.”



Kvas stood up in his throat. It was urgently necessary to siege the ugly aunt, and I began to be born:



“Woman,” Schopenhauer said, “pause. My husband and aunt turned to me.



“He who judges people superficially is doomed to live a superficial life.”



The routes at the stop nearby did not lie, but the four eyes of my visavi, despite the sunny weather, became round as 5 kopecks.



With the feeling of a won battle, I continued to drink my quas, which at that moment became even more tasty.