The Prehistory:
My friend works as an admin at a manufacturing plant. Part of the network (and therefore the users) is located on the territory of the production workshops. The admin's office is in the management body and the admin is an unusual guest in the production. In addition, in order to get into the server room, you need to go through almost the entire production complex through technical corridors and other colorful places. The following conversation took place on a fun Monday:

xxxxxxxxxxx:
Where can I buy a blaster or something like that?
YYYY :
Nafiga to you? O_O
xxxxxxxxxxx:
For the first time in three months, I went to the server.
The xxx:
I am in the aquarium, half an hour on these dirty corridors, and because of every dirty corner, some usher-zombie, who has stunned for 3 months, jumps out (on Monday morning).
The xxx:
“A-nihua-no-working-all-pizzle-missing-go-look” and almost forcefully pulls some fucking into his hole.
The xxx:
I barely got rid of them...
The xxx:
Somewhere on the way back, in the midst of all this horror, I had a persistent feeling that I was Isaac Clarke. And since I don’t have a blaster, I’m a shit.