The Prisoner:
Where did you find such a ventilator?
The Red Tank:
In the Arizona. Do you want yourself so?
The Prisoner:
I do not even know.
The Red Tank:
What then?
The Prisoner:
If you want a hot cup, the nearest refrigerator is yours. He entered while it was poured, pulled off on the SMS and stumbled. Reflectively knocked his hand, a glass of boiling water and a bag flew in the direction of the fan. He, without swallowing, sucked up all the water, crushed a bag in a farce, glued the glass to the grid and splashed it. Something I want to remove him.