At the age of 93, I was driving as an accompaniment, with a group of schoolchildren to Peter for an excursion. The case was on March 31. Among the adults were two teachers and the director of the school. Well, and a whole wagon of varying sexes of large-age balbes. We, of course, tried as far as we could to maintain discipline, but our strength was barely enough to keep track of whoever stood behind the train, did not smoke, and did not get drunk. The schoolchildren (10th grade) felt the freedom, scattered on the scratch. The wagon sounded whisper, rust, topot, music from cassettes. By night, the children were tired, humbled, and we somewhat rushed them over a bunch. They breathed, drank minerals, and the fairy tales fell as well. However, not all of our guards slept that night. A group of hooligans, armed with tubes with toothpaste, insidiously penetrated the teacher's coupe, and cared for authority and discipline, committed an act of disgusting vandalism over the leadership. It was the teacher of history. His baldness was covered with a thick layer of striped blendomet. The teacher of English got a vulgar makeup, and the director was simply put on the face of everything that was left. Your submissive servant did not get toothpaste. In addition, I slept very "uncomfortable" wrapped in a blanket with my head. Only my feet out. Therefore, the craftsmen didn’t come up with anything better than making me a pedicure. The lakes were chosen varied. Having completed their black affair, the wanderkings broke up in places and fell asleep.

Early in the morning. The teachers woke up, looked at each other, scratched their teeth and went to wash. Then quietly, in order not to restore the bullts, they gathered all the scattered clothes in a bunch, bound a long garland from it and hanged along the corridor, carefully interwoven the perils and not climbing on the nodes. Then we cleaned up in our cup. They brought themselves a status-appropriate look, and sat down to drink tea with cookies, as if nothing had happened.

When all our Hogwarts finally pierced their eyes, it turned out that not only we were spotted with pasta. With thorns and stinks, they broke up the garland, pushed in the toilet, washed the evening makeup, and went to us to complain about life and each other. - San Igrić, I have a cough пропалааа... I have to brush my teeth with someone else... And tell them that we also need to go to the toilet...

Eventually, order was restored, things were found, students were washed, dressed and fed. And the only reminder of that first-April night was just a chic pedicure on my feet. It was a good lac. I held for half a year.