Fifty three million seven hundred three thousand two hundred nine
On the street heat, the heat under 40 degrees. Looked in the stall to buy ice cream. Behind the counter a cheerful pyshechka just takes product. The driver checks aloud the names of the ice cream: "Sunny", "Bikini", "Pleasure" and so on.
And there's a guy from the queue says:
— What are your names all curvy!
— What kind of seller and this product! — butterball says coyly.
And then the driver with a satisfied smile solemnly gives: