I was 10-12 years old. Sitting with a friend on the bank of the river, nature admired. Summer is grace. Suddenly we see a couple from the rear: a man of an indefinite age, it is visible that he is professionally drinking, and with him a woman can get him. The woman stands, the man approaches us, says:

Oh well, break up!

And he climbed his hand into the double tree beside which we sat. He shakes there for half a minute, then makes a solemn shout and gets a classic granite glass from there.

“Well,” he said, “the party seemed to be successful!

Blinking and showing us a litre bottle of vodka lying behind the sinuses.

– Uncle, – we’re curious with the comrade, – and why are you drinking? It can be from the throat.

- Ah, little girl... - breathes the man, - I would have no problems with the throat, but today can not, with me the lady...