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In short, he was even afraid of himself.
Dick was like corn.
And they drove a couple of chicks.
Well, zabuhali, fuck my, let’s say.
Those let’s break, menzhevalis-menzhevalis, in general bro in one room, and this in another.
And Slavik, in the sense of my sidekick, he has already spun up his rat, he has just started, as he hears: in the next room a woman will scream like a scream.
BUT! BUT! This chick sat on treason, shouting: “What happened?” And she screams, already straight howls.
Well, they look to the door, they look in the holes: and the woman is dragged like an ostrich across the steppe, I understand.
In general, everything is normal there, the next day they themselves, count, come, say: “Let’s go, they say, take a walk.”
And how this chick stuck, because she will never be able to with others.
Cool, they say sharotera.
And with renewed vigor, rustling rags.
Here Pupkin and listened to such tales, and began to sharpen his balls almost with the size of a pigeon egg.
He shabby in the evenings, all in sweet dreams.
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You are a fool, clever people told him, you better beat the balls in your head, you miss them.
And I do not know how Pupkin would have acted with these balls if he had not witnessed one incident.
Balls were driven, of course, in the Lenin’s room at night.
The day-to-day was warned, the skinny young sailor stood on a stirrup, and the interested persons penetrated the shrine with important and purposeful physiognomies.
There was an operating table made of good quality wood.
The gloomy, stooped Maslopup, who is also a national surgeon, has already conducted five successful operations.
The patient was a stocky Belarusian, noticeably worried.
Pupkin in the group of observers eagerly looked at the fascinating action.
The assistant unwrapped a clean towel, where the balls and a tablespoon were; He took a Bambi bottle of cologne out of his pocket and poured it into the surgeon’s hands.
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