In the tenth, I served in the now liquidated office aimed at fighting drug crime. The schedule of work was treacherous, in the best case, the day after day (the day after day they went for searches and detentions, and mostly at night, and the other two days worked). In order to prevent the staff from running through the roof, the boss allowed us to drive home at night and break up at the call of the guard if necessary. The Winter. I wake up from the call of the police officer: "Name of the river, dress up, go out, the car is following you, we have 3 searches." I am a decent person, I don't like to be waiting for me, isolated and stepped out on the street, so as not to relocate the family. I wait for the frost, so as not to miss the car and at least a little hollow after a deep sleep phase. 3 o’clock at night, from the cold, reduces what is not provided by the female nature. After 40 minutes, I get a cell phone and call the officer with a pretext: "What artist, I say to him with the utmost indignation, I am standing in the street for an hour, and the car is not there? “” The officer was a little surprised and said he didn’t call me at all. The courtyard at that moment was illuminated by the right flame of my popcorn, but the cheek suggested that the history of incoming calls should be checked, which naturally turned out to be empty. I dreamed too realistically. This officer long suspected me of the use of expert doctors.