so that the entire corral just crumbled into a mass of chips. Fresh manure sprinkled from under his feet and covered up a couple of chicken muzzles, knocking them off a crow, which curiously stared at what was happening. The comrade was already rushing towards the garden, through the economic babkin’s yard.
The mammoth pig I am fighting, quickly caught up with the offender, dispersing all living things that had a residence permit in this yard. Grandma stuck to the window, flattening her snub nose. I huddled to the side, just petrified.
Having run out of the courtyard, a comrade, maneuvering in a zigzag, began to overcome the garden plantations, smashing greenhouses and hotbeds to pieces, and the Mammoth Pig I was fighting, he strove to bite him on the heel, only the handle of an eighteenth-century mini-sword sticking out of a nickel interfered with matchless grip. The distance was short and the comrade was already screaming for help and only sharp turns, helped him dodge and escape, which were indicated by a crowd of Asiatic-Gypsies and folk onlookers-neighbors who stared outside the fence. Tajik and gypsy mothers pulled the kids off the fence, but they did not detach, wanting to watch a live thriller called: “revenge and execution of the mammoth pig Borusi over a fighter of the Russian army.” And it would be tragic if it were not for the salvage pile of manure at the end of the garden, but in it there are salvage sticking pitchforks with which the inhabitants of Russian villages are hiding hay in stacks. They grabbed them, deftly, a fellow fighter, and in an instant everything happened differently or vice versa: the mammoth pig Fighting was running away, and a fellow fighter poked her greasy sides, according to the stalk, and so professionally quickly and tactfully, as if he was on a tactical exam, holds not forks, but a Kalashnikov assault rifle, with a bayonet-knife. And even the audience supported the fighter with applause, praising and applauding the coming victory of homo sapiens, ordinary Russian troops – over nature, reason over the mind, and as a result the pig could not stand the attack and collapsed dead, right in front of the door to the house, on the threshold of which there was a shaggy holding a scarf in one hand and throwing a second behind her lower back, the teary grandmother of Yad-Vig. The comrade made the last tyk into the corpse of a pig and pitchfork, piercing the lifeless body of the animal, swaying like a string of double bass, rattling.
– — Well, grandma, comrade Spartak began heroically. – done, pour and set the table!!!
Grandma pulled a rolling pin from behind her, which rolls dough for dumplings and pizza, and with a mat slammed him across the skull. There was a dull ringing, and the two of us barely ran away from her. She also cobblestones, ten to five kilograms, threw at us. And all the onlookers went over to her side and set out to catch up with us, but did not catch up, but the back from the stones hurt. Grandma Yad-Vig, and then wrote a complaint to the regiment commander, for which they gave me ten days, and Comrade – they slapped a disciplinary battalion for two years, where he rang from bell to bell, cleaned the shit in the local pigsty, manually…
3 note
Toilet snoring
It was like this: behind the metro station of the great commander, Saint and just Sashka, in the penny zone of harmful alimony, there was a bio toilet of three booths connected by one chain, constrained by one purpose, two of them served as a working toilet, where the residents of St. Petersburg, and the third was the office of the operator and the cashier, in one person who collected money for the service of providing a collection of shit.
People stood in line, running out in anticipation of all the starting places. And in the interval between visitors, I rubbed for money, and soldered for her money a fat aunt, who occupies the position of operator and cashier of these bio toilets, Claudia Filippovna Undershram, the hereditary Leningrad in the fifth generation. She did not immediately succumb to my grossly criminal swearing persuasion, I want to note that I did not express myself with obscenity then, and I spoke to him. But the result was on the face. The face doubled. It was, in kind, evening. And already the people decreased in quantity. I, not thinking about the stamina of my aunt’s body, decided to cast in a small way. Moreover, I had free use immunity. And as I went into a free biosort, I felt the same as Aunt. Eaten food put me on the toilet. After that, I became dizzy, then conversations with aliens followed, and further, the eruption of the remnants of the gastric tract on the walls, through my mouth and sleep, a sweet dream without dreams. At this time, Claudia Filippovna Undershram woke up from alcoholic intoxication, expressed in a dry mouth and throat sensation, that is, thirsty, sipped liquid something and, in a hurry and afraid of twilight, as a reason for being late home. She abruptly got up and closed, with padlocks, all dry closets and me sleeping inside, including running away…
Then there was a night full of grunts of grasshoppers and gentlemen of different walks of life who had not reached the subway, sleeping on benches. Observing vigilance, three law enforcement officers in uniform, on a company car, of the Zhiguli brand with blue numbers and an inscription on the sides of MILITION, the police had not yet been invented in Russia, they drove up to inspect the dark side. After making sure that everything is in accordance with the law and no one can take left money, they installed their vehicles parallel to each other, around real estate, which included biosorti… Two with machine guns, batons, gas canisters, boots and caps came out and headed towards the stalls of Asian traders of “shawarma”, under the control of citizens of the Russian Federation, with a nationality of Moroccans, who did not even understand mostly Russian, but were citizens, and it was to the kiosk with the inscription “GAY SHAURMA FOR PUTIN AND TRUMP”. Why such a name was, probably, the translators were probably with humor. The driver with a gun, stayed in the car at the helm and suddenly?!
I, a law-abiding non-citizen of the Russian Federation, am Russian by nationality. Arrived from the USSR, the Republic of Kazakhstan, where they beat me all my childhood because I was just Russian. However, when I grew up, I already beat them. But this is a different story, and now back to the plot: I, a law-abiding non-citizen of the Russian Federation, by nationality – Russian, honored convict, FSB major, pensioner, disabled person and all this in combination, especially since I knew all this in absentia, neither where he had not been, he suddenly woke up from a harrowing snoring from a neighboring booth and, to be more precise, I could feel the closed, night, square room around me, and the ceiling above. I felt everything and did not remember or did not understand where I am?! The walls crushed my mind like that. I decided to get on the “mini stage”, where I was sitting before, and my leg fell into the hole, and there everything is like in a bay. I screamed and woke up, with rhythmic snoring, dreaming of the general’s daughter, comrade sergeant, and part-time driver. He was frightened and even startled, like a gypsy, crushing his chest, but at once he appreciated the situation, but he did not believe in the ghost. I, not up to the skill, cursed for help, trying to break out at least some hole in the surrounding one of the walls, but my labors were useless, and the snoring did not stop.
At that time, on the other side of the toilet, a fellow driver of a police chariot, the sergeant had already called for reinforcements, and two, not expecting Arab food from dough and chicken, cats and dogs bought for nothing, were already running to the aid of a colleague and co-fellow.
I heard voices on the other side of the booth, but that did not help reduce the headache of a hangover.
– -Who is there? – one of them asked.
– — Here I am, and who are you? I asked.
– -I AM? now you know…
– — Break the castle!! – I asked the other one and it was not difficult to do this with the barrel of an assault rifle. Door opened. In front of me stood three astonished minors, one, by the way, cross-eyed, in a uniform similar to the cop one. Then they took me to the nearest police station, and the toilet snoring never subsided.
The guard thought for a long time how to state the reason for the detention on duty in the report. And stated as follows:
“… Detained, while trying to rob the contents of the bio toilet