In the supermarket, there are two types in line, the front for the verstu, the red-eyed and the ugry. One bubbles something of the type: fucking, what his wife asked to buy... Here his phone ringed the melody of the song of Shnura with the words "give bananas, marijuana, sun give..." Such a hit, type a sure! I’ll come and go to the debris shop. The second humour followed him: Ivan, here the grass is not sold.