I will try to remember one explanatory from the investigation act.
NS in the home.

I live in the village, I work as a mechanic, so to poison myself with sandwiches is not used to - any day on the wheels = lunch at home.
But the problem is that the house opposite the farm and in the summer in the house clouds of flies.
You will come for lunch, and these bugs will go into the ears and noses and into the plate and on the bread. On dichlophos you will be ruined, and the wife ticks - all the walls in spots = again wallpapers to glue over once...
Once arrived in the summer, on the street heat, windows doors to open. Immediately to the plate, he poured a full cup of tea, opened the bottle and began to burn a light bulb - and she took and broke, and the last one was in the box.
Well, I went for a new box (in the stove, in the stove in the stock).
He returned, he cried...
KAAAAAq is choking... but I looked like nothing is burning, only the curtains collapsed... and at first I don’t understand – a strange silence instead of thundering pterodactiles.
I looked around - and they erred on the floor and could not take off = the wings burned.
Well, I am on the joys of their wreaths in the cushion and on the washing, and myself at the table - the crocodile! Nobody prevents me from eating. He repeated it all the next days.
I let go of the gazka (I counted the steps to the stove), I tick = all the flies on the floor, I put them in the cage, I sit down to eat lunch...
And the last time (the case was already in the autumn) - the windows-doors were closed, and I was in a wet coat, and the lights were wet.
As I walked for the towel, and the new box from the account then went missing.
Well, it was TAAAAK babakhnulo = that the roof flew away and I almost flew to the hospital.