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Hey. The story happened a week ago.

I have a friend who earns additionally the distribution of all garbage to the addresses.
And it so happened that on Wednesday his hand inadvertently twitched and he began to swell. Therefore, the next day, soberly sober, asked me to become his personal driver. So what. Friends are known in trouble, so I did not refuse my friend. Especially all 2 evening addresses close to each other. We arrived at the first – the client, bastard, does not pick up the phone. Even then I thought “not bad, not bad, the evening ceases to be languid.” For the second, everything grew together, comrade uneven gait entered the staircase, I sit in the car and stick the Incubator, at the same time thinking about my purpose in this absurd world and what drink to choose for the evening. 5 minutes thinking. 10. Half an hour already thinking, and I can not decide. I called this aidezdala, asking to help me in self-determination and at the same time find out what the fuck he was for so long!
SchA, he says, I go out.

It takes some time, during which I have time to decide on all that is possible and impossible.
-che? what dick?
-raise without talking! Floor apartment. Quickly!

Your balalaika! Ok, I'm getting up. And what would you think? Well, what can delay a drunk person in an outside hut?
Fucked up, comrades! 6! Six women and one of them has a fucking birthday !! Aunts are all pretty good; a birthday girl – come in, say, take off your clothes …
Normal turn ?!

But further, boys, quite an abnormal turn. The birthday girl, apparently, is a little divorced, because she has a teenage son, and he is the only man in this celebrating babas gang. And here it is asked, was it possible to leave the boy in this den? What should he do with older aunts drinking? Well, was it possible to give it to grandmothers, grandfathers, dad, friends, or to the hostel, to the hostel, to the hostel for a day! But on the table not only juices, but also vodka, brandy and shampoo! The question is because this pizdyuk, coming out from around the corner, put an ultimatum to my mother in a strict but teenage voice: “no, mother. Either me or them!”

The end of the story, colleagues. There was nothing left for us except under the disappointed look of a pretty birthday girl to get dressed and get out of this heavenly place.

I accept condolences. Well, so be it, gloating too

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