My friend, who previously worked as an investigator, told me the following story.

A girl comes to the police and writes a statement about rape.  They raped two, one held, the other raped, then changed. Investigators with no hope:

Have you remembered the signs?

What signs?

- Well, what special, spots there, scars, whiskers...

No, I did not remember. Here is.

He takes a passport from his bag.

While they were kidding, I pulled one of my jackets out of my pocket.

This morning.

The ice cream is so easy. clouds in the sky. Rejoice like that. Of course, the snow is just dull.

The driver’s side of the car crashed and crashed. With great difficulty, looking through the side of the passenger, bending his head, he drove to the car store, well he through a couple stops.

The snow is heavy and there is nowhere to go.

The store works from nine. When I arrived on the radio, the news was over.

Nevertheless the doors are closed.

The man who grabbed the snow around the store learned that they would now open.

I sat in the car until 9:09, then decided to change the doors in places and go somewhere else. He removed the car from the passenger side, and the driver collapsed finally.

The doors of the shop opened, alluia! Time is 09: 16.

I go inside, no one. Tilt and silence. Five minutes walk. He picked up the carpenters, called the saleswoman, “Au, is there anyone? The people!” Fuck, I think any cloud would have taken off the shop for a long time...

At 09: 21 comes out of the shelter a girl seller, thirty years old, light hair, cute, with a sharp movement pulls out the fire extinguisher and puts it on the shelf at the box office:

Do you need it? A thousand two hundred.

I stood and said, “No, I need firefighters...Why a fire extinguisher?”

The girl: "I thought your car was burning, that you were boiling here for five minutes."

Heracles...

“Girl,” I said, “What is Hamam?

“I don’t chew, you don’t know how I chew, just wait five minutes. You see, open, so why scream?

How rude it is.

I don’t, there are a lot of shops here.

I look - on the wall hangs information about who the owner, IP, address, and phone. I call my phone number, go out on the street, in the telephone a quiet male voice:

and allo.

A car shop in your garden?

Emma, what has happened?

-The store opened a quarter of an hour later, plus the seller hugged me for nothing, and I wanted to buy...

The red vendor? The White?

Bright, not red, such with a nose.

With a nose... Ah, what to buy?

The palaces, what then?

Sorry, but what amount were you going to pay?

A thousand, what does it mean?

-I apologize for the work of my staff, now I will call the seller and she will sell you the clothes significantly cheaper. As an apology.

Okay, I say, let’s try it...

I go inside, the girl takes the telephone, listens for a few seconds, then makes the face like a offended child - the lips down, tremble and the eyes wet.

What kind of houses?

Please show a couple of pieces, I choose two for 280 rubles each. She separates them from the common pile, folds, and I am standing at this time with a thousand in my hand. I wonder what the discount will be.

All that, keep it.

He throws the hoodies on the shelf, I take and extend the money. She shakes her head sharply:

No need, it is free. I will pay them.

The seller is a mixture of anger and anger.

Normally, I think, I say “thank you” and turn to the exit. She tells me afterwards:

I have a paycheck...You’re probably proud of yourself, right?

I think for a few seconds, then pick up the package and say, “Thank you again, I’ll come to you more often.”

In the car, the owner called again, asked if everything was okay, and again apologized.

Often when it is not possible to bring the children anywhere with a lot, you have to go to the race of any kind, so that the children get rid of them. There is one nearby, the largest in the city. There is a labyrinth there, well, you know, all the children are caught there go shopping or walk... so this labyrinth on all four floors is in our ROC. He launched his two sons there, at the time they were 6 and 8 years old... the age difference makes them play differently, so they run on different sides, rarely play together. I came only for the sake of the children, so I just stood and watched them play... and then I noticed that my younger didn’t share something with one of the boys playing there... I noticed that from my side some man is shouting to his son, “Take him out, but hit him now... I see two men standing, apparently brothers, very similar. And then I notice that the second one is also screaming something... two more are running to my son and all three are starting to beat my son. For me, the outcome of this situation was known, because it is not the first time, and I approach these fools and ask why they teach children this way? When they realized that I was the father of the beaten man, they immediately began to say the same boys, they must fight, there is nothing terrible about this, we adults will not argue about it.



After 15-20 seconds, my older one flies and the first strike puts one of the children, is taken for the second, and so they both struck the three wicked ones that they envyed, until their fathers jumped... they look at me, and I smile and say, they are also children, nothing terrible... I thought if they would start jumping the ears of both of them at once, but the picture clearly showed what kind of children and fathers... did not risk.

Our childhood perception sometimes changes so much with time! Recently, I remembered an episode from my childhood - my parents took me to the "Pepper" show. I probably won't remember what I was for the theatre, I only remember that the performance was great, and especially remembered the Evil Maid - uhhh, what a straw, just a terrible grimza! The actress played great!

When the artists went out for a tribute, children with bouquets dragged onto the stage - to give flowers to the artists. And I went. Of course, all the bouquets came to the beautiful Princess Cinderella, such a golden coat, in a glowing dress! And I was going to give my flowers to the Cinderella. It was only when I reached the stage that I was suddenly overwhelmed by dullness, and I only had time to climb the side stairs. And then... I turned to the actress who played the wicked mother-in-law, going to ask the idiotic question (I still remember) “How do I get to the Cinderella?” I opened my mouth, I froze... and the actress thought it was her flowers! I remember how her face was squeezed under the makeup and the ugly warts she was made by the make-up makers. She took my bouquet, thanked me very warmly, and was obviously surprised. I pretended to think so, smiled wrongly and ran to my parents in the room.

Then on the road I said, “Well, how! It is me! I want a butterfly! And she...!”

Years have passed now, and I remember that scene, there are the actors, Cinderella with a huge grip, the Prince too with a few bouquets... and the Evil Maid with the only modest bouquet and a warm smile on her face.

I am so glad that I got stuck!

In 2004, I was travelling by train from Moscow to Budapest via Kiev. Most of the passengers were travelling in Transcarpatia, the train "Moscow - Chop", and then the trailer wagons: "Moscow - Budapest", "Moscow - Zagreb", "Moscow - Venice".

Travellers abroad were very few. There were only two in our wagon to Budapest – I and a very colourful non-formal metalist. It looked like a miraculously preserved metalwork from the 80s. Hair, chains, T-shirt, clutches with spikes. In general, a very pleasant person in communication. He went to the Sighet Festival, on an island in the middle of the Danube.

We sit in his couch, we talk. The Hungarian border guard has passed. “Please go in your coupe – the Hungarian customs officer is coming.”

Go to your store for things. I wait. I hear a customsman come to the metallist and the following dialogue occurs:



Jonah is rattling! Good day! in Hungarian)

Hi to you.



The customsman translates to Russian, and speaks with a characteristic "Estonian" accent (one language group).



How do you eat? and ghetto?

The sight...

Is there an Arctic Tic?

... no...

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!! to

Help your relatives with work and money, and you will know that you are a scapegoat and cattle, because you have a larger house and your salary is higher.

My 30-year-old husband ordered a cake with the inscription “18+12”. Plus, they forgot to do, and the day before they called from a confectionery and asked, "Are you sure that the cake for the anniversary of the war of 1812 should be in the form of a heart?"

I can't wait to see a new show on the channel "Russia" "A Night Without Vladimir Soloviev". Without Ukraine.

The problem of any vertical power is that when the bottom is the bottom, then all those who are below, by a strange conjunction of circumstances, suddenly also turn out to be the bottom.

St. Petersburg made and installed border pillars in the forest in the Leningrad region. For his services on crossing the "border" with Finland, he took from migrants from South Asia 10 thousand euros.
This is by the press service of the FSB border administration.
by ******

Nabiullina named the reasons for the strengthening of the ruble. “I’m sorry, I was on vacation,” the head of the Central Bank commented.

One day I drove to the south. At the break between Bataysk and Rostov I realized that I needed to sleep and rest. Winter, the night and the wind. The steep tourist shoes purchased yesterday wiped their legs in blood. Heavy backpack on his shoulders. I decide to go to Bataysk, because ten kilometers before it, and to Rostov 18.

On the outskirts of Bataysk I see an old five-story building, one of the entrances is closed to the code castle. I approach, guess the code on the deleted buttons, climb up to the upper floor. There is no light on the staircase. I sit on the stairs, my backpack under my head, trying to fall asleep.

The door knocks down and the stairs hurry. He stands up and stops in front of me. “Why are you lying here, right?” I answer that I am driving by car, tired, I need to sleep a couple of hours. “You can’t sleep here! Here people walk, any woman will go, will stumble at you in the darkness, will be scared!” I decide not to argue, I am going to leave. “Where have you gathered? Come to my house!“”

I enter the apartment. In the hall there is a woman and two young children (a boy and a girl aged five to seven). The woman does not ask a single question. I dress up and go to the shower. I get a clean towel. Then they sit at the table and we and the Armenian eat a tight dinner, drink a bunch of vodka. While we were eating, the woman laid me on the floor. I lay down, awakened by the alarm: the master's time to work. They quietly got up, ate breakfast, went out. Five minutes went together, he told me that he had a vegetable cane. Then I said goodbye and went back to the road. Soon he was already sitting in a cozy fur and drove to the sea. This is the Caucasian hospitality.

Literally a couple of minutes ago, I was called from an unknown number, I picked up the phone and usually spoke.

(I am I; C is the interlocutor)

I – Listen

C - Somebody there Rinat, can I tell you about our company?

I – Listen

I can tell you, can I?

I am listening, right?

Talk about the company, right?

I listen, I listen

Thirty seconds of silence.

After the interlocutor dropped the phone.

I don’t know what it was, probably some sort of divorce; I didn’t say “yes” just by chance...

I am sitting at work, a call from the Russian Post, a small package came to your name. On my question: one or several, the operator said that he would call everyone. I was called 8 times in 20 minutes.

It is optimization!

My parents live on the third floor. On the 1st floor below is the bank. The first and second floors are a meter wider than the others. Under the balcony of my parents is the shifter roof of the balcony of the 2nd floor.

Summer night, heat, the balcony door is open, only the frame with mosquito grid is closed. The parents are sleeping. Suddenly the father wakes up and sees a man stealing from the balcony through the room. The father waited for the man to go out into the hallway, took the scissors from the table, quietly followed the man into the hallway (the man has already gone to the entrance door and is trying to open it) and quickly closed the room door until the mother woke up.

The man turns around, and the father recognizes the neighbor by the staircase cage. The dialogue is whispering. The neighbor:

“Oh my, Valery, I’m sorry, I wanted to go here.

Are you fooled? ! to Why is? ? to

- Yeah, I went to the store in the evening, met the root, it all, they drank, one sat down. Then I look at two o’clock at night. He went home, and lost the keys of the tambour somewhere. I'm afraid to call: my whole night will bite me, and I'm tired. So I walked onto the bottom roof, looking at your balcony is open. I think the stitch quietly through your apartment into the tambour, you will not wake up. Sorry if you...

That same summer, parents finally enclosed the balcony.

It was in 2003. I was 12 years old.

The May holidays in the working Ural town were always celebrated with bitterness and these were no exception. My father invited me to go with him and his chickens on a spring fishing trip to the Pacific Bay of a beautiful Tajik river. How could I refuse?

Taiga has just taken off its winter chains and blossomed under the hot May sun. It was very warm and good. We walked the path, the men joked, told each other something, and I went and listened.

By the way, such a company we went fishing very often and nothing predicted trouble. When we arrived, the fishing began. I was given a whip and I went to catch the oak. I will not be describing the events in the middle of the day. By the time I came to the fire, my father and the men were already in shape. I knew with my childhood brain that the way back would take a long time and told my father that it was time for us to go home. To my surprise, he agreed and we left. But not the path that came, but decided to throw the "direction".

The "direction" was long and painful. The whole taiga was swollen by the melting snow and in some places cold streams had to be forced by spring water. We managed this and went out to the edge of the forest, where apparently the Batty forces left. He said he would rest a little. He lay down on the grass, put his backpack under his head and... fell asleep!

I turned around him like a whale trying to awaken a relative. But it was all in vain. The mind is obscured by the sameon, and the head is burnt with the May sun. He slept sweet.

Since I, like any probably boy, had a fist in the ass since birth, I just couldn’t sit next to my sleeping father. I had to go home. I pulled out of the valve of my backpack a piece of berry wrapped in a pipe and scratched it with a knife: “Dad, I’ve gone home.”  I put it in his hand. Having moved a little on the spot, I still decided to go home oriented towards the river, because I knew that my house was below the river.

In May, the river naturally poured all the shores, it had to go holding to the edge of the floodwater. A couple of times in my way flooded groves arose, one of them I successfully bypassed, and the other - the largest forced in short rubber boots. Naturally, I was all dirty and dirty. At seven o’clock in the evening, I finally got home. He opened the apartment, cooked peelings and sat down to dinner.

At 8 p.m. my mother came from work and asked where my father was. I had to tell her everything from the beginning. She arrived in a light shore (sorry for the mat, but I can't describe it differently) and said that when he came, he was over. At twelve o’clock the father came, sober and in a fierce shock. When he saw me, he said, “Yes, you’re home! I’m in the garage to live” and without waiting for my mom’s rugi went into the garage. He lived there for about a week.

This is a true family folklore. We often remember and laugh. And my father is very proud that I guessed to leave a note on the barrel.

We went on a taxi on 31.12.2018 in the evening to visit, we go with our wife talking, and upon arrival to the place decided to make a taxi driver a gift. And then he turns around with the words, “Yes, thank you, I’ve already drank,” and sets us out at sunset!! to

I remembered how on my five-year-old we went to the "Children's World" for a gift, my parents wished that I would choose what the soul would like.

Dad proudly led me to the shelf with the dolls and began to praise the doll-in-law, then the doll-stewardess in turn: apparently then began conversations with me about career orientation, about life choices and interests.

I chose a huge insured macaca with a long brown tail and a wooden head, saying:

This is Shurik! He will live with us!



Dad knew it would happen someday, but he hoped there would be 15 years left! He breathed and agreed to Shurika.

Because of the laziness, a person does his job quickly and qualitatively, so as not to rework.

Vladimir Bortko told me.
The movie “The Dog’s Heart” was finished. Preobražensky, of course, was Evstygneev. The beard asked me to let go, it’s not makeup. The money is allocated, the actors are at a low start. But there is no shark! All the files were broken, even Kolya Karatenov asked. Not that.
I say to the assistants, “Do what you want, but I need a dog!”
I went to the studio in the morning. I have the girls: “They came from Alma-Ata! The Tolokonnikov name. A local actress, of course, but look at it at least.”
I open the door to the office and immediately close it. There is a dog in a jacket sitting on the chair.