It is said that greed is the second happiness, and fools are always lucky.
In general, the case was in 2001. In my hometown, shooting in the streets from grenades then ceased to be fashionable - but serious guys in sports trousers were still riding beeches (which nobody had thought of calling "boomers"). And I was a young green fool who worked in a small computer company. The clients were different, not everyone confessed the principle of "duty - a matter of honor". But somehow they managed to negotiate with them without bringing them to extremes.
These are some inconsistent ones. They don’t want to pay for the work they do – and that’s all. They cheer with their roughness, participation in a single “social-political union”. In other words, natural...
I just decided to resign and move to the capital. And here the boss, when I came to him for a calculation, just said:
Their client? The Thy. Do they owe us? A hundred pounds. So go and pay off the debt as you want. If you bring a baby, I’ll pay you as much as I need, but I’m not sorry.
I looked at myself in the mirror... The ugly glasses-botan. The costume is cheap, with a collar colorful in the fashion of the time. Who is not afraid of me and will take it seriously? But nothing to do... I sat down in my broken box and went to the debtor’s office. And they lived on the outskirts, next to the factories. I come, go to the reception to the main, I am interested in the subject of his presence. Not there, they say. Okay, I’ll answer, I’ll wait for him on the street, in the car.
I go out and I realize I don’t even know how he looks. Only the name was given to me. But to come back, to ask, is inappropriate somehow. He went to his coffin. I sit and wait. An hour, two or three. In order not to miss - I picked up the book, read it, and periodically look at the booklet - a photo of my beautiful girlfriend.
The car was placed in front of the entrance to the building. My calculation - as a cool limousine approaches - so I'll go straight to him and approach. No one, except the director of theirs in such transport can move.
Until the evening, no limousines arrived. In general, somehow empty on the parking lot, and no one enters or exits the building. Only the curtain at the reception window sometimes rolls.
At 8 o’clock it was dark, so I think there’s no point in waiting. The area is not the most quiet again - I have nothing to do here at night. I went home without bread.
The next day is exactly the same. He came - asked - was sent - went into the car - sat down until evening. There is still silence, only the birds whisper.
And on the third day, in the morning, our boss caught me. brought to the office. The envelope is dirty. I re-calculated, there was, besides what I expected, a bigger sum. I raise my eyes at him with a silent question.
They paid, he said. The money fell on the account today.
“And yet,” he says, “their chief called me on the trumpet early in the morning: “You didn’t understand us that way, we don’t want war. We don’t need to send a wheelchair.”
The Waltz is a killer, if anyone did not know.
"I immediately painted it: a scratch in the glasses, under the student cuts. The car is clearly stolen, sits, pretends to read the book - and passes the entrance, and with the photo is checked. The nerves, of course, have ropes: it looks so beautiful, does not hide, does not fear that it will be removed. Mother of the Beast, short.
I took the envelope, pulled the boss's hand - and went to the first seat with my wife.

And what of the story above, and what was - you decide for yourself.

Al-Qaeda has taken responsibility for forming a new Russian government.

Long ago, in the 90s, my aunt had a small store business and, in connection with this, very often wandered to Moscow from our small town - Onega, the Archangelsk region. Driving a day. It’s to the fact that she did everything herself: the clothes were so huge that I was scared to imagine how she was always pulling it by herself. I was small)

But especially stories, how someone helped her there in Moscow I did not hear, but she always tried to help, as she could: then in the train to give the Gypsies food, then in the subway to someone to pass.

And she understood that not all beggars were sincere and honest, but she was always a man with such a good heart that once again, when she heard how the soldier couldn’t get home, she asked, “You’re not lying exactly? Are you asking for a ticket? »

The guy, of course, replied, “Yes, I didn’t have enough money for the ticket. My mother is waiting at home.

Aunt says to him, “Well, look, I hope you don’t lie. Write down my address. When you come home, write a letter that everything is fine, that you have gotten.”

My aunt gave him a ticket. He ran for his affairs.

I forgot about it when I got home.

And I just went to visit her, I see aunt Masha sitting, with tears in her eyes, and a letter in her hands...

And this boy actually came home and wrote a letter of thanks with his mother.

Worked in the market, the teen jackets of the N-firm were in huge demand, there was no such thing as a day less than 10 units were not sold, and what they were good is that they had a lot of different color variations, but the price they had was not small. On the horizon appeared grandmother (B) and grabbed the red jacket with a business look, begins a dialogue:

B - Oh, how nice, I need to take my grandson, I don't regret the money for him at all, how much! ? to

I am 3500

B - Oh, and you have a size of 38 is not sorry, or would have taken straight now

I - how do I not get out of the counter, here

B - Oh, and the color does not go red, here would be blue, I would immediately buy

I have a blue jacket (I have a blue jacket)

B – No, too pale, he needs bright... oh, how sorry...

I - and brightly blue is (again I get)

B - And the inserts on the shoulders are white, and if it were grey, I would buy it.

I - So this is yours, day, my good... well what I pack! ? to

B - Yes, you sent us... Y, the goat - and with a proud look goes away



What it was! ? to And this grandmothers often had nothing to do, so they came to us and went for a walk, and with us "targashas" to talk.

Electronic document circulation in Russia is when you print documents to sign and scan again.

I was 17th in autumn. In the garden in 1992. A girl called me.

She liked me. But we were known from childhood and no chances.

He calls and asks for a cigarette. I quit smoking a week earlier.

You are not smoking, I am not smoking!

And it was me, I wanted it. I understood the clue.

This is a hint!

I ran into the tent and bought the most expensive cigarettes imported.

I ran to her. She let in. I went to the kitchen.

There is a cloud sitting there.

This is Volodya! Get to know.

And then I sat down and watched how this Volodya mourned, smoking my cigarettes.

This is such treachery.

The director at the age of 53 decided to engage in MMA (mixed combat). I found a club where this craft is taught by the older generation. The next day after the first workout he appeared in the office with a huge bleeding under his eye and a broken knee.

Immediately the questioning began. Women were even surprised, as it is generally said, at the first training of such barbarism. Even young people do not do that.

The director reassured everyone. It turns out that at the training, he just climbed on the tatami (fighting carpet) and fell the plasma.

I decided that MMA was not for him and should hang his gloves on the nail.

My relationship to the sausage can be divided into two types:



1st Why is a kg of sausage cheaper than a kg of meat?

I won’t buy this sausage.



2nd Why so expensive? Buying meat cheaper.

I won’t buy this sausage.

When I was in the last class of school (Oh, long ago, the USSR was still almost alive), I liked one girl - from a parallel class. I seemed to like her too. But there were a few nuances – we were really overwhelmed with studying and her dad was a puppet at our school. Therefore, our communication was mainly reduced to communication at shifts and school discos and other extracurricular events (which were a lot if honest). All of the attempts to organize a meeting over the weekend came across “an unrealistic amount of lessons” and “blind, we live in different parts of the city” (both were true, but the hormones told me that this was a false statement and we need to fight). On the one hand, I tried to hold myself in my hands, and on the other hand, I continued to show persistence. At school discos, we were all closer to each other, not eating pioneering decency (of course if her dad wasn’t on duty). When we met, we not only talked, but also held our hands. On the electives after 7-8 lessons, solving any archaeological difficult problem in physics, we sat down together and exchanged views and smiles - which for students of different classes is not achievable during the course of the school day... In short, platonic relationships developed gradually, and some parts of the body insisted on recommending the brain to come up with how to organize sexual life. And the brain plagued with hormones. So I got my first kiss. And now, at the school discotheque, rough hands climb where pioneers and komsomolists are not.

...And at this moment her look becomes thoughtful-dreamingly determined. And she slightly stood away for a long time and stared me in the eyes. He said, “We have to do one thing. Are you not afraid?”

And although at this moment I was overwhelmed with contradictory emotions - enthusiasm, fear, anticipation, fear, licking away and a lot more, my dry throat presses out: "Yes, in the sense of no, in the sense of what I should be afraid."



And she takes my hand and persistently pulls me somewhere. And in front of my blurred gaze, in addition to her slim figure in front of me, the pictures seen in the illegally mined magazines flash... When my eyes gain focus, I suddenly see before me a zavocha – the father of my girlfriend. And I hear her confident voice: “Dad. I can’t continue like this, I don’t want to hide anything from you. I like Vitaly. I want to meet him. I want to spend time with him on the weekend, not at home locked up for lessons and preparation for the university! And after school, I also don’t always want to run home as a sprinter to report for every minute between school and home!”



When she finished, I understood from whom the artist took the image of Mr. Pomidor for a children’s book. No, he must be honored, he did not explode and did not raise his voice. He clearly impressed only a few words: “No. The point. Finish the university. You will eat. Do what you want. Before that you are my child. Vitaly is free. You are home.”

Everything was convincing and tough. The evening was over. But it was not the end. The end came for me in the morning. When I approached her on a shift and tried to hold my hand and I heard, “No Vital, not now. All in vain and useless... I need to be alone and think... If your father has such a reaction to you, then present him with my boyfriend - a secondary student is not even real. It will kill. I have to think about it...” And I went to my lesson.



Before getting acquainted with the term "friendship" there were some 15-20 years...And the dominant thought in the head: "And when did you just have time?"

I spoke recently with a neighbor (C) at the house:

C - Asked here at Kolka the perforator is powerful to break the foundation in the bath, and that pledge for him asked - suddenly I break, and he is worth 30 pieces. He did not give in the end, the goat, stuck.

I - well so right, the thing is not cheap, the foundation to break it is not a couple of holes in the wall to drill, suddenly what. Rent it at the end.

He is angry and greeting through his lips. I am also a goat.

June in Russia is a free summer demo, in order to connect the "warm" function, you need to hike and buy a trip to the south.

On the weekend, I go by car on the regional track, not on the main, multi-band, where disconnectors, cutting, and removals, but on the usual two-line (on the strip in each direction), but the road is good, there are few cars. The sun shines, the appearance is excellent, the mood is great, the posture is relaxed, in the car one, the music is louder, the Tokata and Fuga of Bach play in the string processing of the Silesium trio, they make covers not only of famous classics, but also of famous rock groups, such as Metallica and Nirvana, yes, and violins with a violin, yes, and melodies familiar from childhood, and on good equipment - up to mushrooms on joints. What a wonderful thing, beautiful girls.

Suddenly, because of the almost approaching fur, going in front of me, flew on me in the forehead, some beech of thick years, and it rolled out very decently and fur began to bypass the course - I was not noticed by the driver (the sun shone in front of him), or the next lamb frozen... He jumped on me at about 35-40 meters, and the road was making a smooth turn, and I did not see the BMW until the last moment. What a wonder, on what kind of reflexes I was able to leave, I did not even understand. I flew out on the sidelines, fortunate that dry and relatively flat, still took off, the brake, of course, did not press, only adding a little gas, the car aligned, (front drive), and almost immediately jumped back on the asphalt. The hands and feet did everything right themselves, the mind already turned on much later. Fu-u, it passed... I was driving a little bit for a hundred and I was flying at least 140, in the sum of 250 km / h, it will be exactly.
The frontal blow at such speeds is a guaranteed death, no belts and pillows will help, and it turns out that for some micron temporary shares he broke up in space with the old lady...

I went on and thought, because it happens, you live so relaxed, with confidence in tomorrow, you build plans, and the stallion has already gone to meet you - flying, rushing... Yes, I owe today to God or the guardian angel, or maybe they gave me the old debt? I have never thought about this before, but I immediately remembered an old story that happened almost twenty years ago, which I have already forgotten.

I lived then in another city, the neighbors on the site were a young couple, and their boys were twins (not twins), with my younger about the same age. The children were not sure for three years. Well, as it goes - friends with families, especially women, still "entertaining" in the decree. The doors of the apartments were opposite, never closed at all, and a crowd of children, connecting a neighbor from above and my elder, not much older, with screams, whispers and screams was carried from one apartment to another.
The boys were different, both in appearance and character, but together they represented a crazy, explosive mixture. What they did not produce. Then Olga on the balcony in the winter in one coat will be closed, and daddy, as it was, went to work without keys, then into our oven, with the cooked chicken, their plastic will be, their mother without supervision and for a second was afraid to leave, again something to do. Then I called them Sasha Sereja.

Once Olga, cooking something in the kitchen, literally distracted for a moment, so they wrapped in the hall a paper bag with flour, a kilogram for three or five, and she did not notice. During those few minutes, until she caught up, and why they so suspiciously silenced, they made the whole room, from floor to ceiling and all the furniture, and themselves stumbled from legs to head, all the clothes, and the face, and the hair. When I met her, in the semi-dark corridor, two completely white humans jumped out, she stumbled so frightened that I heard probably the whole quarter, my wife was sure, although there were no common walls, and the windows on the different sides of the house came out, well, and, accordingly, broke out to help. Olga opened her already bending in half from laughter, and the two are standing and rearing, letting the trails of tears on white cheeks.

On an ordinary day, I went home in the afternoon for some need. Suddenly in the door, frequent intermittent calls, strikes, like feet and hands at once, and wild Olgin screams. I quickly discovered, Olga is in an unsuspecting hysteric, can say nothing consistently, I only understood that Sakha does not breathe. We run there, and he lies on the couch, with his eyes closed, all white with a blue outflow and some sinking, small. I will immediately explain that I am not a doctor, and I am not even close to a nurse. How much time has passed is unclear, from Olga no sense, cries, voices, almost screams. So, calmly, stop throwing yourself, take yourself in your hands... - it's already me, I once gave a practical account on the military on this topic. The wife will call an ambulance, but until he comes... Okay, let’s consider that I still have a minute, children’s brains don’t die so quickly and you have to try to do something. Standing on his knees near the couch, so, we look at the pulse on his neck. Not immediately, but the weak felt - Ura!, although there were a few dull seconds with rising panic, well how to do such a little indirect heart massage? Now breathing: Nothing in the mouth, put a finger in the throat, shit, what all small and gentle, would not hurt, in the throat too nothing and already straight skin I feel as seconds run. I need to do artificial breathing, but I doubted, and if suddenly something was stuck at the beginning of the trachea, and I would foolishly blow the air even further. Pulled his nose and through his mouth pulled the air into himself, first slowly, the second breath stronger, then he was going to swallow, in counterattack compressing his chest from the sides of his hands (not to be overstated), but Sascha, somehow shaken, or sneezed, or coughed, several times swallowed and took a deep breath, a little coughed, still laying down, already breathing normally, only a couple of times coughed, and suddenly sharply opened his eyes, seriously and with astonishment looking at me. And Serega turns around, a little quiet, no longer crying, only asking:
Are you, uncle, going to be kissed by the Sanka?

The ambulance arrived ten or fifteen minutes later, when Sascha was already walking around the apartment with cries:
Serena, where is my pet? - and my brooded Olga with a strange mixture of valerian with champagne (nothing else was at hand). The doctor, a normal man with a sense of humor, listening to me, said that his professional services no longer seem to be needed. Anyway, with my help, after capturing Sasha, I examined and listened to him - everything is okay, but I said that the signs of asphyxia from foreign objects in the respiratory tract are not observed at all and recommended that I contact a neurologist, nevertheless, I did everything right and actually pulled the guy out of that side. Also, he offered Olga a soothing injection, but then with doubts said:
- Yes, no, it seems not necessary, her mixture is better, more effective will be... - smiled, and looking me in the eyes, tightly held his hand, also saying goodbye to the others.

In the future, life has shattered us, divided us and somehow all contacts have been lost... How are you there now Sasha and Sereshka live?
This story was not remembered for fifteen years exactly, and today, suddenly emerged itself, after an accident on the road. Well, of course, the debt was given - the hint understood - we should now be more careful...

What did you do with the Ministry of Construction? Have you seen his dacha? And the house? He knows how to build!

I wonder, and a woman florist is happy when she gives her flowers on March 8th?

“With a good word and a gun you can much more than just a good word.”
I work at a shooting camp in Costa Rica. A client came yesterday. When he found out that he was Russian, he asked: Do I know Alexander? The unknown, I say. You are CHO! He is a local legend.
Alexander Saltykov is known in San José as "Ruso Loko" - the choked Russian. He came from Russia in 1998 and opened a supermarket in the suburbs. And this supermarket worked 24 hours a day, which is not typical for San Jose. They steal though. Especially at night. The suburbs of Desapmarados are considered unfortunate.
Mr. Saltikov did not hope and took care of the weapons. He was wearing a Smith-Wesson 45 caliber rifle. During the first six years of trade, he shot five robbers and handed over two more to the police. The criminal here, having met resistance, does not climb.
There was a trial for each body. All the bodies were recognized as the result of necessary self-defense. The supermarket gained widespread popularity, and the Hanuriki stopped entering it. As they say, “under fear.”
If not to be confused, in 2007, visiting journalists filmed a story about Saltikov for Russian "Vest", the video is on YouTube.
Once Alexander was driving on a gas station when it was robbed by four. He entered a shooting, wounded two, but he got three (!) bullets in the corps. Bullets of the 22nd caliber, "little", serious damage to the hero did not cause.
Saltikov opened two more supermarkets, forced personnel to arm, paid staff for training and training. Although attacking his "points" - there were no more fools.
He died of a heart attack at the age of 63 in September 2015, according to the Costa Rican newspaper "Nacion".

Vladimir Vladimirovich, I am 70 years old and I have to pay for the major repair of the house, which will begin after my death. Now the question. Tell me, how much can you tolerate this ruthlessness from NATO generals in the southern provinces of Syria?

I stand in the pharmacy, a slightly excited man approaches the neighboring box office, then the dialogue between him (M) and the pharmacist (F)



M: I have a pregnancy test

F (flegmatic) : take two

M: Why two?

F: Because if “no,” she’ll want to do another one, and if “yes,” she’ll want to do another one too.

I came to buy a shepherd. There are five puppies and a mother. He put food in his hand, bowed and called. My mother looked at me, the others jumped. He took the one who ran last.

Because he is like me.

I work at a shooting camp in Costa Rica. A client came yesterday. When he found out that he was Russian, he asked: Do I know Alexander? The unknown, I say. You are CHO! He is a local legend.

Alexander Saltykov is known in San José as "Ruso Loko" - the choked Russian. He came from Russia in 1998 and opened a supermarket in the suburbs. And this supermarket worked 24 hours a day, which is not typical for San Jose. They steal though. Especially at night. The suburbs of Desapmarados are considered unfortunate.

Mr. Saltikov did not hope and took care of the weapons. He was wearing a Smith-Wesson 45 caliber rifle. During the first six years of trade, he shot five robbers and handed over two more to the police. The criminal here, having met resistance, does not climb.

There was a trial for each body. All the bodies were recognized as the result of necessary self-defense. The supermarket gained widespread popularity, and the Hanuriki stopped entering it. As they say, “under fear.”

If not to be confused, in 2007, visiting journalists filmed a story about Saltikov for Russian "Vest", the video is on YouTube.

Once Alexander was driving on a gas station when it was robbed by four. He entered a shooting, wounded two, but he got three! bullets in the corps. Bullets of the 22nd caliber, "little", serious damage to the hero did not cause.

Saltikov opened two more supermarkets, forced personnel to arm, paid staff for training and training. Although attacking his "points" - there were no more fools.

He died of a heart attack at the age of 63 in September 2015, according to the Costa Rican newspaper "Nacion".

I was 18 years old, my first job as a waitress. The internship was supposed to be free, but I was paid to say I worked well. They paid at the end of the working day, and not bad money for that time. On the fourth day of work, she forgot her home keys, and on that day her parents went to the village, which was 30 minutes from the city. The owners, wife and husband, themselves took out the workers, and here I was the last when I said that I forgot the keys, they said that they would take me to the village, and if the households fell asleep, I would sleep with them) the parents just didn't sleep and opened the door. Such are good employers. But now I am ashamed that I made them go with me.