The stage comrades.
The wife puts her daughter in the room, I drive in the kitchen and here I remember that there were small black bats in my kitchen in a wardrobe with cereals. There is no rescue. Having stunned, I learned that these occupants are passionate as they do not like garlic, bright light, and for some reason metal nails in pots with crops - well, naturally blood-drinkers. I think I’ll be happy to show you who Van Helsing is. Conducting a local cleaning of the closet, I touch a bowl of flour, it is spread on me, on the floor, on the table... I think of the mouth, then I will take it off. I dig everything, get a head of garlic, disassemble, I think how would they be so illuminated? And here I remember that I have an ultraviolet lamp at home, which is for the drying of acrylic nails (photopolymer clichés I candle in it). I turn on the lamp and light up the closet.
And now the picture with oil: the wife goes out to the kitchen, from the columns aphex twins, and I am in cowards, all in flour, garlic scattered throughout the table, a candle with a nail dryer in a cabinet with cereals, a bump under my nose "All get out of the darkness shit!!!", "I will make you a thermonuclear shit, the suckers are terrible", "The closet is for the crops!"... It seems she went to call me for an emergency out of foolishness.