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Let’s talk about the boys.
When there are a lot of boys in the city, they gather in flocks.
Like stray dogs.

No not like this.
Not so rude.
Like abandoned puppies.
And choose a leader.
And from him, the leader, it depends on what this flock will be.
Spiteful, wild, that drunken “cleans”, old women have the last pennies knocked down, from other flocks of boys blizzard, with a cigarette in his teeth and with a glass in his hand.
Or vice versa, in museums and libraries, in trips, and tourist centers.
In the forest with tents, on the river in a kayak.
It all depends on the leader.
There was such a flock in the neighborhood, where Deniska and Dima lived, where their school was located.
The boys in that gaggle called themselves not shobla, not enclo, not a gang.
And in an adult – a brigade.
Brigadier himself appointed seventeen years of age, awaiting conscription.
And as the neighbors waited for this call, the parents prayed as if they were at the military commissar.
But so far, Sergey Voitenko, Seryoga, Gray, was formally listed as a vocational school, and sometimes he even went there to remember.

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And all day wandering around the area, in search of adventure.

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In the evenings, he and the “brigade” were gathered in the basement of the old five-story building, built among the first houses, even under the Soviet Union, thirty years ago.
They managed to equip a basement in the form of a gym-rocking chair, their connections with the team leader, their parents helped.
Let the son even be engaged in sports, if only he did not go to the colony.
In the “brigade” was exactly twelve people, and he, the thirteenth.
Associations may arise among the most educated readers, but of course there was nothing similar in the “brigade”.
Serega had everything pumped up.
Arms, legs, neck, shoulders.
Everything except the brain.
The brain was small, like a shadow ball.
But I thought quickly.
On his account, Seregin, there were two banks, six shops, twenty-nine stalls, no car account.
At least that was how it came out of his stories.
And the boys listened to him, mouths open and ears hanging.
They strolled through the streets of their neighborhood, sometimes wandering into foreign territory, knocking over trifles at the gaping boys.
It was such a company that met Deniska when he, without breaking the road, was rushing away from Dimka the traitor.
And he hit his head right into the soft belly of the Bush.
The thick, thick, clumsy bastard grunted in surprise, and held Denis with a hefty lazy paw.
– What is this miracle? – Squared in Lenin’s Gray.
– Who are you, bitch? Denis sniffed, looked blankly, but said nothing.
– You are asked, well! What are you attacking people? Knock down the civilian population.
– This is Denis, from the eighth grade, I know.
– obligingly reported on Garik, puny eyegirl. 3gp sex online.

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