This week one of our employees came from vacation. Everything was done, everyone brought a gift - to everyone with a hint. To whom a glass of beer, to whom a T-shirt "fishing troops", to whom a statuette of a man with a beer bottle.

Then came the turn of the boss. The guy gets a tape of some painted condoms (they are sold in resorts, with various pictures and inscriptions), and stretches them to the master with the words "it's you, without a hint if anything. I just saw why I remembered you.”

A bit of the investigator’s work.

In almost every change we see death. It is impossible to get used to it, but it is little that can shock. I was surprised today. Accident with the dead. The car was turned, the roof was cut by a fighter, things flew across the road. And here one of the drivers, passing by, stops, comes out of the car, takes the perforator of the deceased and goes...

The driver caught him, the stolen was returned. A history without morality, just about those around us...

Hi to you! This is the Sberbank Security Service. We recorded a suspicious transfer from your card to the name of Sokolov Ivan Sergeevich from Kaluga for 3641 rubles. Did you do this translation?

Yes of course!

Was it exactly done?

I just translated. Is it okay?

Oh... go on fucking!

Who teaches telemarketers in the Kirov colony? Well, how is it: just off the script and the whole dialogue will be filled up immediately!

Yesterday I heard from my wife the phrase that my mother said to my father, I was always wondering why my father agrees to it, because it is so disgusting. I realized that the report of a new stage of our life with our wife began and there is no way back. She opened the refrigerator, saw a potato that stood in the pot for a long time, looked at me and just asked:

“Will you eat or will I throw it away?”

From each department, someone had to be sent to the Society of sobriety.

The manager called me. Next to him was the parth of the faculty.

― Sergey, ― started with the snack carefully, ― You don’t seem to drink?

― I do not drink. ― I agree with you.

This is beautiful. ― The chief and the partorg looked over and breathed relieved, after which the chief continued, ― So you will join the Society of sobriety. You’ll be there... fighting.

― With whom? ― I asked him.

― Well, with whom, with whom...― the chairman and partorg again looked, ― With us.

A familiar Cossacks told how she was all called Alena, even in school. And it was only in the fifth grade that she learned that her real name was Altingul - her brother told me during a quarrel, something like: and you are not even Allena at all!

Yyy: Guli, Alguli, Altinguli This is a job for a witch.

I see this scene. The director of Bilayna enters a sorting in a restaurant. The poor man is running away. He touches the door, and he is operated by the speaker:

If you want a small one, say 1. if you want a large one.

D is alone.

A - We inform you that washing water today with a discount, $5 for 0.5 liters.

D. Open it now.

A - Also, the bonus package includes a refresher after the toilet.

D. I understood it fucking.

The cost of music in the toilet is charged separately.

D: You are fucking fucking!

Toilet paper is not included in the cost of visiting the toilet.

D. I want to go! Open the blade!

Remember, there are discounts in the evening. Now you can open the toilet door.

D. Go on, don’t have to...

O - You have $19 and 80 cents. A pleasant day. Evaluate the work of the operator you can...

I had a uncle and a aunt. His mother's brother is Gena (that is, Gennady) and his wife is Dusya (that is, Evdokia). They lived a little more than a hundred and a half kilometers from us. Despite the distance, we see each other at least once a year. Sometimes they are with us, sometimes we are with them. In general, they communicated not badly, I thought I knew them well. And here at the age of edak at 16-17, I find out that my uncle Genah is not Genah in fact. According to his passport, he is George. Well, he didn’t like his abbreviated name Jora and he decided to be a Genius. I learned about it from Bati, he “delivered” it in a random conversation.

Time goes by, people get older. I came in for Uncle Genoa. Unfortunately, my aunt did not survive too much. This year, he was at the “parent’s” in their town and went to their graves. They lie in a row, George and... Stop! So it turns out, Aunt Duja on the passport was Agrapen! And I only learned it now, and I, for a moment, already forty. She was called Dusai for the same reason: I didn't like the "native" name (that I learned later from my mother). This is the family of encryptors.

If I do a job in half an hour, it’s because I’ve been learning to do it in half an hour for ten years. You pay me for those years, not for 30 minutes.

The rainbow is the wet rays of the sun.

The professionalism is different, I was convinced of it again yesterday. I usually cut my hair on Favorsky and try to get to the same girl. She’s like a hairdresser, and not just. Master of your profile, she will do her job so that you start to relax - you don't have to come up with any shit about this word. Her movements and touches plunge you to the edge of sleep, and by clicking the scissors you can count the number of hair available on your head... After all, to each of them it fits individually.
But yesterday, by the will of fate, I went elsewhere. I stunned an empty bucket to wait, but I risked to look into the room. The master met me with his hands bent on the sides with a kick of his head and a strong phrase - come in! I realized I was late to run.
How to Cut? This is the official phrase of any hairdresser, but not always giving the right to choose.
Short and beautiful! I also answered on duty.
"Well, I doubt, beautifully, you will not deceive nature with a haircut, but in short, let's try," she breathed out and pulled out "Niva" or "Don" from there. Judging by the seizure of the carpet wearing on the machine, I could be mistaken in the name, but not in the manufacturer's firm, well, let's start. She spoke and wrapped the wire in my neck twice so that it didn’t talk on the floor.
At that moment I only thought of one thing – just not to slip, just not to slip! And if it slipped, I’t hold on to the machine... During her several swings of her hands and whispering “Don”, I only noticed that my ears live their own lives or have their own minds. I didn’t control them exactly, but as soon as the shadow of the machine fell on them, they clung to my head. Sometimes I even lost sight of them.
What are straight, straight, straight? The teacher spoke in 20 seconds.
already? – I’m excited – I don’t care, I never thought about it.
- Okay, I will make zigzag-shaped, - thoughtfully said she and captured my astonished look, added - you no difference, and I am funny! She clicked on her scissors several times and named the amount. Probably already included in the tea...
I did not see my head, all the attention was distracted by the ears, they then pressed to the skull, then jumped back. I thought it was a nervous tic, but then I realized that they applauded like passengers on a successful plane landing. I walked home covering myself, my girl was waiting for me at the doorstep.
Where did you shave? Looking closely at me, she asked.
Is it so bad? I spoke, pulling my head into my shoulders.
It is perfect!
I agreed with my ears, I thought and broke to the mirror in the bathroom. Even through the second hand mirror, I could not find a single defect. No “sweepstocks”, no cracks, nothing. Everything is perfect, beautiful and truly perfect. Yes, I’m on the go, not Alain Delon, of course, but...
"So that's why there was no line in the tambour, if people were not lazy to go from the other end of the city, then with its professionalism, it would be unlikely that even so they would be able to create it," I thought.

People no longer understand jokes. They think it’s news.

To my classmate her secret lover decided to make an original gift - put a pigeon in the school closet (the pigeons are her favorite birds). The living. And she just got sick that day and came to school only two weeks later. When she came and saw a dead pigeon in the closet, she cried for a long time and sought the one who so cursed her))))

I get into the plane, and I realize that under the seat in front of me is a backpack.

I speak to the man in front:

Can you remove your backpack under the seat in front of you?

and no. Then he will get under my feet.

- O_O



Fortunately, the dialogue was heard by the conductor and helped solve the problem of the freedom-loving passenger. But the thinking of such characters is not logical.

Spinning left to the lake. He has been there several times. In order to get to the open water, you need to pass through a dry chimney 20 meters. There is a path, everything. Well, I decided to turn a little off the path so that a new place to find a thread. The first thing I heard was a whisper like a whisper. Then someone pushed in the back and a sharp pain in the neck. I didn’t understand Nihon what it was. I took my hands to shake something from my back. But the unknown fool, apparently, perceived it as a challenge, and started to jump on me, like pieces of skin tearing out. It hurts very much. A couple of times it jumped to the ground, and I tried to crush the monster with a spin, but the pale hooks stuck behind the stones and the necklace failed to move. I saw the enemy more or less. The Cat! I am fucking a cat! But healthy fucking and fucking on the whole head and probably even the tail! After 10 seconds of fighting, I realized that I had to be heroic. At first he did not compete and ran (well, as he ran, on the swamp in his boots) to the other side. The swallow already in the naughty just hanged on my back with my nails. When the dirt got deeper, I lost one of my boots. I realized that I was moving toward the water. turned and back. The cat seemed to be tired of heraking me, jumping, and already just mouthed. In short, I slipped out all in the mud mixed with blood, without a booth (I cut my leg on the fist too hard) and without a spin. Later, I was told it was a cat. And I should be proud that I was stunned by the red-booked beast. He scratched me hard, of course. Where the pieces of skin were cut off. Healed for a long time.

I teach the child the account.

We have two apples, how do we share them?

One for you and one for me.

is right. Now we have three apples, how do we share them?

One for you and one for me. This for later.

Now we have four apples, how do we share them?

One for you and one for me. These two for later.

Stupid appearance is often a camouflage of high intelligence.

History is not funny.
I place for comments around and the medical people.
What the councillors say is clear.
Moscow almost disappeared in 1960.

On the eve of the new 1960s, Moscow was under the threat of spreading a deadly disease - measles. In the USSR, the disease was overcome by universal vaccination in 1936. The doctors didn’t even think it could come back and stopped taking it into consideration. 
However, it still happened... 

The Khrushchev meltdown opened the iron curtain, and the USSR began to actively contact with other states. One of the new friends of the country of the Soviets became India. It was there on December 7, 1959, and the two-time Stalin Prize laureate Kokorekin artist Alexei Alekseevich, who specialized in the creation of propaganda posters. During his two-week vacation, he visited the sights of exotic India and even visited the funerals of the Brahman. 

Immediately after returning to Moscow, the artist had a fever and a severe cough. The patient was hospitalized in Botkin Hospital, where he was diagnosed with the "flu". On the body of Kokorekin appeared a rash, which was written off for allergy from drugs. Alexey Alekseevich was placed in the chamber for the flu. On the third day, it became clear that the artist was dying, and relatives were allowed to visit him. 

In order to determine the disease, a famous academic of medicine Nikolai Kraevsky arrived from Leningrad. He did not make a correct diagnosis. One of the nurses timidly noticed that such symptoms are characteristic of measles, but nobody listened to her. The New Year was on the nose, and the Soviet people rushed to celebrate, so the artist was cremated on December 31. 
Two weeks later, in the 1960s, some patients at Botkin Hospital had the same fever, cough and rash as Kokorekin. The material taken from the skin of one of the patients was sent to the research institute of vaccines and serum. On January 15, 1960, the academician Morozov identified in the material the particles of the virus of naturopathy. 
The news was promptly to the top leadership of the country. It became clear that Moscow and the entire Soviet Union are at a step from an epidemic of a disease that is not treated. 
In front of the personnel of the capital police and the KGB set the task in the shortest possible time to identify all with whom the artist contacted, starting from the moment of his landing on the plane to India. The risk group included passengers of the aircraft, its crew, customs officers, colleagues, friends, relatives. The investigation even found that before returning home, Kokorekin spent a day with his mistress. The scale of work was enormous. They found that for several weeks the patient had contacted several thousand people. Identifying them all was almost unrealistic. 
Medical workers focused on two major outbreaks of the epidemic – the Botkin Hospital and the artist’s family. The Moscow hospital, known throughout the USSR, was transferred to a caste position. No one was allowed into it and no one was released from it. At the same time, the staff, the patients and their relatives were not notified about the reasons for such a regime. The authorities tried to avoid panic, and it gave results. 
Thousands of people were in quarantine. In a short period of time, it was determined that nine people from the staff and three patients were infected in the hospital. Among the relatives and friends of Kokorekin identified seven infected: the second wife, as well as the first who infected his husband and son; the artist's insurance agent and several of his friends. In total, Kokorekin infected 19 people, they in turn infected another 23 people, several of whom passed the disease to three people. Of the 46 patients, three died. 
In these critical days, Moscow doctors, KGB personnel and the police performed a feat. They quickly identified potential patients and isolated them from society. Tested fellow students and teachers of the daughter of Alexei Kokorekin, found all 117 patients who were on the reception of the artist therapist who examined. 

More than 9,000 people were placed in quarantine. During conversations with the representatives of the bodies, potential bearers of measles issued the names of lovers and companions. The artist’s wife admitted that she handed over to the commission to resell things her husband brought from India. Because of the shortage of clothes, which could infect people with a deadly disease, went past the box office. The KGB specialists, using their experience and unlimited capabilities, did the impossible and went out to buyers. 
In 1960 all 7 million inhabitants of Moscow were vaccinated. Among them were those who died. Every week, 1.5 million people were injected, and 10 thousand vaccination brigades were vaccinated, which included medical university students in addition to doctors and health care professionals. Within a month, the outbreak of gout was able to be extinguished.

If you come to the church with your candle, put it in silence so that God can see, and the pope can’t.

When I was 6 years old. My brother 17. We were sitting at home with my parents, I was in the Hall (a large room) eating behind a chair, my brother was waiting for friends to go for a walk, my mother was sitting on the side of me facing the corridor, and my father was on the couch with his back to the corridor.

When the door was called, the brother rushed to the door, thinking that friends had come. I looked in the eye, it was closed on the other side. Thinking that it was his friends, he opened the door and immediately got 3 knives in his stomach. The attacker went further into the apartment. Mother saw a man with a knife in the hallway and shouted to her father, "He has a knife! “” Bata jumped out of the couch, with one hand he grabbed the board on which my food was standing (such a Soviet with iron crushing legs), and with the other hand he threw me out on the couch. The attacker washed off with a knife, his father closed his hand, and cut off three fingers (deep but not cut off). After that, he fucked him with a taburet in his hand, he had a knife, his father grabbed his head and fucked him about the squid. He fell unconscious. The father wanted to take a knife and get the bastard, but in time the neighbor with the shepherd ran, the bastard grabbed his hand, the dog said "fass". Rada (trained shepherd) grabbed the bastard by the throat, but did not bite, waiting for the team. At this time, mentions began to arrive in the apartment.

This man has already killed three people in the city.

The brother in a state of affection, why did he go up to the floor above, called the neighbors when they opened and wept, said call the police, and himself went back down and fell to the floor. Three days in a coma, blood transfusions from mom and dad, survived.

The only thing I remember with my memory is a corridor in the blood and, like a mint, they shake me and require me to tell me what my name is. I replied "Maxim" and they calmed down (as Daddy later said he was afraid that I would stop talking out of shock).

All the details from the words, mom, dad, brother.

It was 1992. The bastard was convicted, sentenced to death (then there was a moratorium) in 1993 he was shot, about which we received a notification.