483
Shoes. © Bespyatkin
They were daubed Indians GDRovskogo production and wholesale and smoked piece. For Slava was not typical. Such whores result in casual company objectives inexpressive and lots of booze. In this case, the table having a great Armenian cognac, tight mouth-watering fruits and candies "Variety" for 350 rubles a vyebyvaetsya to these club nymphet - a sign of inferiority brain and inner misery. But, nevertheless, we ceremoniously fashioned glasses on a slice of lemon and talked about the paintings Kuindzhi. These two flirtatious confused with the movie "Jumanji" and incredibly fun.
- Slav, in which port you met these ladies? - I asked seriously, when we came out onto the balcony.
- In "The Seagull." There's such a good fucking much - cheerfully answered my partner.
- A more serious was nothing?
- Not only are these. Yes you noesh blasphemy? Bring in your life a little paint! - He slapped me on the shoulder.
- Do not paint Doha?
At this time, the room sounded like a cat voice:
- Boys and Cho there so long you smoke? Come to us!
We threw down "bullheads" in the sky and marched to the palaces.
Anya and Olya (can not remember who is who) have already poured the brandy into the glasses and onto the carpet. Damn, this carpet to the mother-in-law bought us a wedding anniversary ... And now it "bulls" and some shiny things.
- And for the meeting and in spring garbage? - Slavka shouted, waving his glass.
- Garbage, garbage! - Screamed the girl.
We huynuli. Then he included some "acid" and entered into a sexual relationship at almost Teschin carpet. Well, that such dancing. Bends there any metaphysical touch as the ball Natasha Rostova, overtures, shit ... The girls were frisky as LSD. We have tried to keep up, it is still lagging behind.
I stopped, walked over to the table and wrote AP Chekhov, drank beer in accordance time. And while it was still early. My relatives, including his wife, mother-in-law and schnauzer Fil, probably even before the "ring" is not reached. In the country today, strawberries and chicken smoked. But I, as a man burdened with the works and life of the device, was released from a picnic in the family council.
Therefore, we had to vacate the harvest festival. And as the still lifes painted by Claude Monet prostitutes were no longer expressionism and the usual Russian realism. They fit into the harmony of debauchery with every sip of brandy or beer. Music booze and gnashed in a modern way, without the melodic lines and glissandos. Stupidly as nails dug into his head glamorous club masterpieces of modern rhythms.
And we also, "Kulnev" and progressively wandered from room to room for fucked in the rhythm of trance. Shoes Oli (or ANI) flew to the side mirror, dress and rhinestone darted over to the nightstand, my T-shirt and trunks - on a chair ... and then raced a song about the "uniform" of the "Elusive Avengers". We rode on horseback, jumped from the train, flying in an airplane, were cut in the pool and were questioning Petlurites. Windows, despite the warm weather, foggy in some movies with icebergs.
- Why are you there, eating a watermelon or something? - I heard a voice behind the door Slavka.
Just at that moment, I recoiled from the vampire Oli (or Anna) both on a lathe at the end of the shift. And we laughed for some unclear reason.
- Let's go thump, and there is already sharyat - I said dance partner.
She said nothing, and just throwing my shirt in the style of gown, rushed into the hall.
And there already ate "Variety" and rang the Czech glass. Slavka in shorts and sneakers lounged in his chair and pinched the ass for Anya (or Olga), crouched on the arm. She nonchalantly as Turgenev children chattered and kicked tsedila remnants of cognac with lemon. We just have a beer with pistachios. Well, that's always the case.
- I'll have someone to throw for grub and booze - I said firmly.
- We will not go, we do not wear - the girls began to ache.
- Damn, there seems to rain begins ... let not, - said Slava.
- Okay, let's go have a smoke - I agreed.
We went out onto the balcony, although smoking in the house was not forbidden, and this use our "colored smileys." Just on the balcony could be pulled about their experiences and to debate abstract.
Actually, talking about fucking take several seconds to type "How?", "Yeah fucking." But on the cars so we are seriously talking. Rare sudden drops of rain beat against the glass like flies, and the room hushed singing Nastya Kamensky and some Potap.
- B-5 a good machine, but still X-5 - a gesture - languidly pulled Slavka.
- That gesture and a show-off price - it is for the elite - I waved.
We have tried to address the subject of "Volvo", but this time in the yard, sparkling droplets drove black "Volkswagen" B-5.
- How do you - tired and noticed with envy Slavka.
- Yes, like ... - I said, remembering the monthly installments.
At this point in the sky ebanulsya Hollywood lightning. He struck the same Hollywood thunder, and we realized that there was a fucked up! Cigarette butts thrown down like a suicide, but my companion and I rushed into the room.
Our guests were drinking beer from the necks and bulling about some bags. Seeing our faces, they jumped from his chair and knocked in a handful of scared, like sparrows. Perhaps they decided that now their bodies are dismembered and scattered in different parts of the city. Perhaps in their place I would have thought the same thing.
- So, fuck! Get dressed fast, girls, very quickly and run away! - Slavka voice yelled Zhirinovsky.
- A Cho for garbage? It is not polite! - Squeaked Olia (or Anya).
- Now, come to us, guests who shoot before they say "stand" - said Slava.
- Bandits? - Enthusiastically asked Anya (or Olga).
- Worse. His relatives there with his wife, mother-in sirloin and a dog - he pointed at me.
At that time I was collecting clues and hints of impropriety. There were many, and we lived on the ninth floor.
It was in some computer game. I ran with a big bag and brought down to the bottle, candy, fruit, cigarette butts and pistachio shells. Slavka conducted basic training. Prostitutes dressed headlong and unreliable. In such an outfit they could flaunt only in an empty hallway, holding underwear and lighters.
When we pushed them out of the apartment, I heard from the bottom up eerily creaky elevator. It was like the approach of the date of payment of the loan for the car. It frightens and does not focus.
But we had to open the balcony door, a few seconds poshurovat vacuum and wash the dishes not numerous. The bag with the objects of the offense flew chute toward the elevator. Somewhere in the same point they are likely to meet, but it is physics, but here the death of Pompeii and the French Revolution in one bottle ...
Of course the smell of corruption and tobacco, brandy fumes and the overall situation did not hide, but rather flaunt our event with Slava. It remained only hope lies in the masterly, bordering on fiction Roger Zelazny.
When the door opened, my companion and I sat in front of the TV like in the movie "Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears", drank the remaining beer, smoked and stared insolently "Hour of the court».
Surprised getting up from his chair, we encountered unexpected guests relatively calm looks and the words: "And we're, like, here's a beer and watch TV drink ...»
And the hour of judgment has come. For some reason, most of all got Slava because he is such a well-mannered and positive in all respects, a Russian citizen, was contacted with the vicious and petty creature like me. My wife was crying on the sofa, and mother-in-law uttered indictment. Pleased just what we were accused of drinking and smoking in the room. And the fact that people did not have time to get out of the apartment, but here is the booze, which may result in some obscene continuation of such unlicensed visitors from the street and stabbing. This advantageous for us to channel it flowed Tiffany and poddakivaniya wife. And only shrewd in-law (I began to respect him after that) as if by chance, toe, quietly rolled his cigarette butt with lipstick under televizornuyu nightstand. I looked down in the temple and read something similar to a psalm. Slavka lied in response to the mother-as a gladiator.
He pressed on hard times, stress accumulation and the sheer fatigue.
- A man donated the most expensive in the world - chicken smoked for a short rest before the difficult constructive day for the family and life! - Selflessly he orated, shaking the chandelier.
- Might and nature with the family to relax, and, by the way, you're invited! But no: it was in secret, in the absence of his beloved wife to eat this smelly beer! - Retorted mother-in-law.
- It's just a coincidence ... I'm sorry, in general ... I came out of the blue and beer brought - humbling myself Slavka.
The debate lasted, in fact, did not last long. They were interrupted by the insistent doorbell. As in this horror film. Pause, like death, and the mass exodus of people in the hallway.
The door opened in-law ...
At the opening, in the light of semi 75-watt bulb was Olia (or Anya). She was indecently dressed and in his right hand holding a thin, like a magic wand cigarette. Beauty mess on his face gave it a slight tinge of surrealism. The same shade and consistent position, and, in fact, the situation. The last stroke enchanting Raphael was a short, but capacious as a fable, the phrase:
- Zdrasssste. Sorry, pazhallsta ... I've forgotten your shoe. There, in a room ...
And her shaky finger pointed somewhere in the bedroom.
© Bespyatkin
Source:
- Slav, in which port you met these ladies? - I asked seriously, when we came out onto the balcony.
- In "The Seagull." There's such a good fucking much - cheerfully answered my partner.
- A more serious was nothing?
- Not only are these. Yes you noesh blasphemy? Bring in your life a little paint! - He slapped me on the shoulder.
- Do not paint Doha?
At this time, the room sounded like a cat voice:
- Boys and Cho there so long you smoke? Come to us!
We threw down "bullheads" in the sky and marched to the palaces.
Anya and Olya (can not remember who is who) have already poured the brandy into the glasses and onto the carpet. Damn, this carpet to the mother-in-law bought us a wedding anniversary ... And now it "bulls" and some shiny things.
- And for the meeting and in spring garbage? - Slavka shouted, waving his glass.
- Garbage, garbage! - Screamed the girl.
We huynuli. Then he included some "acid" and entered into a sexual relationship at almost Teschin carpet. Well, that such dancing. Bends there any metaphysical touch as the ball Natasha Rostova, overtures, shit ... The girls were frisky as LSD. We have tried to keep up, it is still lagging behind.
I stopped, walked over to the table and wrote AP Chekhov, drank beer in accordance time. And while it was still early. My relatives, including his wife, mother-in-law and schnauzer Fil, probably even before the "ring" is not reached. In the country today, strawberries and chicken smoked. But I, as a man burdened with the works and life of the device, was released from a picnic in the family council.
Therefore, we had to vacate the harvest festival. And as the still lifes painted by Claude Monet prostitutes were no longer expressionism and the usual Russian realism. They fit into the harmony of debauchery with every sip of brandy or beer. Music booze and gnashed in a modern way, without the melodic lines and glissandos. Stupidly as nails dug into his head glamorous club masterpieces of modern rhythms.
And we also, "Kulnev" and progressively wandered from room to room for fucked in the rhythm of trance. Shoes Oli (or ANI) flew to the side mirror, dress and rhinestone darted over to the nightstand, my T-shirt and trunks - on a chair ... and then raced a song about the "uniform" of the "Elusive Avengers". We rode on horseback, jumped from the train, flying in an airplane, were cut in the pool and were questioning Petlurites. Windows, despite the warm weather, foggy in some movies with icebergs.
- Why are you there, eating a watermelon or something? - I heard a voice behind the door Slavka.
Just at that moment, I recoiled from the vampire Oli (or Anna) both on a lathe at the end of the shift. And we laughed for some unclear reason.
- Let's go thump, and there is already sharyat - I said dance partner.
She said nothing, and just throwing my shirt in the style of gown, rushed into the hall.
And there already ate "Variety" and rang the Czech glass. Slavka in shorts and sneakers lounged in his chair and pinched the ass for Anya (or Olga), crouched on the arm. She nonchalantly as Turgenev children chattered and kicked tsedila remnants of cognac with lemon. We just have a beer with pistachios. Well, that's always the case.
- I'll have someone to throw for grub and booze - I said firmly.
- We will not go, we do not wear - the girls began to ache.
- Damn, there seems to rain begins ... let not, - said Slava.
- Okay, let's go have a smoke - I agreed.
We went out onto the balcony, although smoking in the house was not forbidden, and this use our "colored smileys." Just on the balcony could be pulled about their experiences and to debate abstract.
Actually, talking about fucking take several seconds to type "How?", "Yeah fucking." But on the cars so we are seriously talking. Rare sudden drops of rain beat against the glass like flies, and the room hushed singing Nastya Kamensky and some Potap.
- B-5 a good machine, but still X-5 - a gesture - languidly pulled Slavka.
- That gesture and a show-off price - it is for the elite - I waved.
We have tried to address the subject of "Volvo", but this time in the yard, sparkling droplets drove black "Volkswagen" B-5.
- How do you - tired and noticed with envy Slavka.
- Yes, like ... - I said, remembering the monthly installments.
At this point in the sky ebanulsya Hollywood lightning. He struck the same Hollywood thunder, and we realized that there was a fucked up! Cigarette butts thrown down like a suicide, but my companion and I rushed into the room.
Our guests were drinking beer from the necks and bulling about some bags. Seeing our faces, they jumped from his chair and knocked in a handful of scared, like sparrows. Perhaps they decided that now their bodies are dismembered and scattered in different parts of the city. Perhaps in their place I would have thought the same thing.
- So, fuck! Get dressed fast, girls, very quickly and run away! - Slavka voice yelled Zhirinovsky.
- A Cho for garbage? It is not polite! - Squeaked Olia (or Anya).
- Now, come to us, guests who shoot before they say "stand" - said Slava.
- Bandits? - Enthusiastically asked Anya (or Olga).
- Worse. His relatives there with his wife, mother-in sirloin and a dog - he pointed at me.
At that time I was collecting clues and hints of impropriety. There were many, and we lived on the ninth floor.
It was in some computer game. I ran with a big bag and brought down to the bottle, candy, fruit, cigarette butts and pistachio shells. Slavka conducted basic training. Prostitutes dressed headlong and unreliable. In such an outfit they could flaunt only in an empty hallway, holding underwear and lighters.
When we pushed them out of the apartment, I heard from the bottom up eerily creaky elevator. It was like the approach of the date of payment of the loan for the car. It frightens and does not focus.
But we had to open the balcony door, a few seconds poshurovat vacuum and wash the dishes not numerous. The bag with the objects of the offense flew chute toward the elevator. Somewhere in the same point they are likely to meet, but it is physics, but here the death of Pompeii and the French Revolution in one bottle ...
Of course the smell of corruption and tobacco, brandy fumes and the overall situation did not hide, but rather flaunt our event with Slava. It remained only hope lies in the masterly, bordering on fiction Roger Zelazny.
When the door opened, my companion and I sat in front of the TV like in the movie "Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears", drank the remaining beer, smoked and stared insolently "Hour of the court».
Surprised getting up from his chair, we encountered unexpected guests relatively calm looks and the words: "And we're, like, here's a beer and watch TV drink ...»
And the hour of judgment has come. For some reason, most of all got Slava because he is such a well-mannered and positive in all respects, a Russian citizen, was contacted with the vicious and petty creature like me. My wife was crying on the sofa, and mother-in-law uttered indictment. Pleased just what we were accused of drinking and smoking in the room. And the fact that people did not have time to get out of the apartment, but here is the booze, which may result in some obscene continuation of such unlicensed visitors from the street and stabbing. This advantageous for us to channel it flowed Tiffany and poddakivaniya wife. And only shrewd in-law (I began to respect him after that) as if by chance, toe, quietly rolled his cigarette butt with lipstick under televizornuyu nightstand. I looked down in the temple and read something similar to a psalm. Slavka lied in response to the mother-as a gladiator.
He pressed on hard times, stress accumulation and the sheer fatigue.
- A man donated the most expensive in the world - chicken smoked for a short rest before the difficult constructive day for the family and life! - Selflessly he orated, shaking the chandelier.
- Might and nature with the family to relax, and, by the way, you're invited! But no: it was in secret, in the absence of his beloved wife to eat this smelly beer! - Retorted mother-in-law.
- It's just a coincidence ... I'm sorry, in general ... I came out of the blue and beer brought - humbling myself Slavka.
The debate lasted, in fact, did not last long. They were interrupted by the insistent doorbell. As in this horror film. Pause, like death, and the mass exodus of people in the hallway.
The door opened in-law ...
At the opening, in the light of semi 75-watt bulb was Olia (or Anya). She was indecently dressed and in his right hand holding a thin, like a magic wand cigarette. Beauty mess on his face gave it a slight tinge of surrealism. The same shade and consistent position, and, in fact, the situation. The last stroke enchanting Raphael was a short, but capacious as a fable, the phrase:
- Zdrasssste. Sorry, pazhallsta ... I've forgotten your shoe. There, in a room ...
And her shaky finger pointed somewhere in the bedroom.
© Bespyatkin
Source:
