Interesting and Humour - page 1922
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maybe they will reduce ...
Different snippets of events
Loans : 15 yards Vovan has promised to place in OGVZs,
Daddy, where are those birds going? To the south?
- To fuck, son... It's all going to fuckin' hell.
scratching
- Fucking hell, son... It's all going to hell.
Yeah, to them.
http://gorod48.ru/news/209094/
Daddy, where are those birds going? To the south?
- Fuck off, son... It's all going to hell.
Holy shit. Into politics...
The crows flew south,
The birds have stopped pecking shit,
Autumn is here... Fuckin' hell...
scratching
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Denis pushed open the door to his brother's room without knocking. He knew that he did not like it when they burst into his place without warning, but he could not deny himself this little dirty trick. From such dirty tricks on the part of Denis, in fact, their fraternal relations consisted. Not to say that Denis did not feel sorry for Vanka. He pitied, of course, and loved in his own way, but it’s good and noble to feel sorry for people like Vanka a little bit - an hour, two, a day, well - a week ... until these eternal drool, crooked legs, a big head and a fixed, silent look from under a browless forehead.
When Vanka was brought from the maternity hospital ten years ago, where he was dragged out of the other world for almost two months, where he almost went after his and Denis's mother, he first of all looked around those present with this look of his and turned away with a sigh, from which everyone became by oneself. A baby shouldn't sigh like that, he should fuss and grab his toes, wrinkle his nose funny in a speck and burp on a bib.
As he grew older, the consequences of the accident made themselves felt more and more, the doctors, whose thresholds were knocked over by his father with Vanka in his arms, despite the solid prices, increasingly shrugged their shoulders and poured terms, of which Denis remembered only about neural connections and irreversible changes, from - for which Vanka will live, at best, up to twelve years.
By the age of five, Vanka practically stopped walking, sleeping and talking. No, he could talk, he just didn't want to. There was an impression that he simply had nothing to talk about with others. It seemed to Denis that Vanka was simply bored and uninterested with them, but everyone else was sure that he was mentally retarded, hastily made a “goat”, said “what a wonderful booty” and quickly, quickly left.
When he was six, his father began to negotiate with incoming teachers, who, after two or three classes, became outgoing teachers. Everyone, with a bewildered look, explained to his father that they could not sit for two hours under this absolutely expressionless look, especially since the child, unfortunately, did not absorb any information. After a year of executions, home schooling had to be abandoned, and no other was possible. They bought Vanka a laptop, connected the Internet and left him alone.
Denis knew that Vanka was not as simple as it seemed, and because of this, hostility towards him only intensified. Well, my father added a considerable share to this hostility by spoiling Vanka in every possible way and rushing about with him like with a written bag, because he felt indelible guilt for that evening when he got drunk drunk and slept in the bedroom on the floor, instead of to carry aunt Vera from Voronezh to the airport, which is why my mother got behind the wheel in the last month of pregnancy. Denis distinctly remembered how, standing at the window to traditionally wave his hand to his mother, he watched how she squeezed her stomach behind the wheel of a white Mazda, then turned around and smiled with such a forced smile that Denis even wanted to run down to the yard and persuade they did not go, but did not have time. "Mazda" threw a couple of pebbles out from under the wheels and disappeared around the corner.
...for some reason, the automatic barrier did not close, the red lights did not light up, and my mother noticed the train too late. When the neighbors, without waking up their father, for some reason brought Denis to move, he remembered the moment from Back to the Future, where the Delorian was smashed to shreds by a train. The picture was about the same, only there was no blood in the film. Everything was covered with it. A dirty and bandaged aunt from Voronezh walked along the tracks and collected the contents of her trunks in a heap. She refused to go to the hospital, but the doctors did not insist, the aunt was thrown out of the car from the blow and she only got scratched badly, but apparently her mind was damaged a little, because three times in a row she told seven-year-old Denis in detail how his mother was without one leg and with her head rolled back, she lay in the ambulance and gave birth to his brother ... At the same time, the aunt cleaned black clots from the trunks with her hands.
Eighteen thirty. The time of the incident was so often pronounced and written down in various pieces of paper that Denis, during the funeral, even sometimes mentally sang this phrase to some rapper tune: eighteen-thirty, eighteen-thirty... There were tears and tantrums, but the seven-year-old kid really didn’t want to let grief into his carefree childhood for a long time, so in a couple of days he almost moved away from all this hellish hell ...
At first, his father often tried to talk to him, and apologize, and explain himself and try to justify himself, but both understood that this would not change anything, and gradually the father also calmed down, lost weight, began to work more, went on a promotion, and now he has grown to a young pretty secretary, who, of course, did not fail to settle in their house. With her, she dragged a disgusting creature named Madonna. This Madonna was shaking all over, pissed everywhere and barked incessantly so disgustingly and loudly that Denis wondered why there was so much filthy, screeching barking in such a frail body. After some time, this screech became something of a background and no longer bothered anyone, but Denis did not miss the opportunity to kick Madonna in the ass and she flew away, getting tangled in crooked paws and showering curses on him, and this house and her whole filthy life …
Denis grew up, and the older he got, the more he moved away from Vanka. Yes, and he did not particularly make contact, rarely when he mutters something barely audible or looks at point-blank range, which is already goosebumps ... From the age of fifteen, Denis began to bring girls into the house, but somehow they did not linger. Although Vanka was not particularly advertised, his presence was felt in everything, in the atmosphere, in the smell, in behavior. Therefore, girls and boys gradually stopped going to Denis, which did not add warmth to the brothers' relationship.
Vanka was aware that he had little left. No, no one told him about it, but it was clear that he was in the subject. Denis felt that something was hiding under the appearance of a crippled baby, and this something was much higher and deeper than him, Denis, and his father, and in general - everyone. Any attempts to make contact were not successful, Vanka either simply ignored or got off with monosyllabic phrases, carefully confirming the reputation of a mentally retarded person. In the end, Denis began to deliberately anger Vanka and piss him off. But with the same success it was possible to try to piss off the chest of drawers. As a result, Denis, although he was afraid to admit it to himself, began to wish and wait for the end, and by his behavior he did not try to brighten up this end in the least, unlike his father, who, the farther, the more pampered and fulfilled any Vanka's desire, which, by the way, , it was not difficult, because there were exactly three such desires in ten years. The first is the same laptop with the Internet, the second is a large expensive wall clock with a calendar and a countdown, and now the third.
On the eve of his ninth birthday, his father asked what Vanka would like as a gift, and he pointed to the monitor, where on some nostalgic Soviet site there was a photograph of a mind-blowing metal constructor for twenty-five then rubles, with hundreds of parts, magnets, different lengths of plates with drilled holes, wires, relays, switches and motors, and even complete with a small real soldering iron with all the solders and rosin. "Give it to me," said Vanka, pointing with his fingernail.
My father traveled all the flea markets and shoveled all the ebays, but of course he didn’t find such beauty in the kit, but he assembled a huge box for Vanka, everything that could be twisted, soldered and connected to electricity. Vanka looked at this mountain of coils, circuits, details in oiled papers, a soldering kit and an expensive industrial hair dryer for a long time, said “good” and turned away.
For the tenth year of his life, Vanka soldered. He sat for days in clouds of smoke, with little burnt fingers putting together a sequence of details known to him alone. From the outside, it looked like a protracted whim of a fool, and probably it was so, since this lesson did not bring any practical result, and no one expected it. It just worked out for everyone, thank goodness.
Vanka also wrote poetry. Sometimes he silently handed Denis another piece of paper with scribbles arranged as far as possible in columns. Denis read these foolish nursery rhymes and, depending on his mood, praised Vanka, or simply did not say anything. Vanka did not pay any attention to Denis's reaction at all. Sometimes he just held out another piece of paper and said “On”. The poems were the usual poems of a child about mom and dad, about the river, the sun and the bird. If you read these poems and at the same time look at their author, a twisted nine-year-old freak aimlessly soldering another meaningless circuit, then it was difficult to fall asleep later, so Denis read or did not read them in his room. However, I didn’t read more… I didn’t want to feel sorry for my brother once again and thereby stop waiting for what he was waiting for…
What he was waiting for happened today...
... Denis pushed open the door to his brother's room without knocking. He knew that he did not like it when they burst into his place without warning, but he could not deny himself this little dirty trick. Vanka did not even glance in his direction, continuing to wind copper wire around the horseshoe of the magnet and muttering something with each turn.
Denis was in a bad mood, there were problems at school, and the company was already turning away from him, openly. And all because of this little bluff… ..no, he won't say that word yet, even to himself. No. It's too early. Or it's too late.
Denis came up and listened. Vanka diligently, as far as his gnarled fingers allowed, wound the wire round after round, monotonously saying: “The more wire, the more time left ...” His eyes were somewhere inside his forehead, and in general it all looked like some kind of idiotic meditation. Denis forgot why he came and turned to leave. Vanka's monotonous mumbling stopped, and he distinctly and clearly said: "On." Denis stretched out his hand and took another scribbled piece of paper. Vanka again began to chew on his mantra about the wire, Denis mechanically put the paper in his pocket and went out.
Vanka died at night. In the morning he lay in bed already stiff, putting his hand under his cheek. There was order on his desk, a soldering iron and all this permanent electrical mess were put away in drawers.
Since everyone had been ready for this for a long time, no one was especially killed, even the father. Madonna was only locked in a barn, from where she continued to swear at this world. They quickly took me to the morgue, quickly issued the documents, and the next day they quickly buried me next to my mother. They sat down, drank, said a couple of platitudes and dispersed. Madonna was returned to the house, and she continued her endless aria from the second floor. Everything was as always, only there was no smell of rosin. And the sick in the house still smelled. This smell will hang for a while, then disappear.
Suddenly Denis felt a belated sense of guilt. I found a piece of paper that Vanka gave him and decided to read this last rhyme in his room. Stopped in front of the door, sighed and…. knocked. The door blurred in tears that filled his eyes, he gently pushed it and entered.
I cried a little to myself, after all, seventeen years old, a man already ... Sitting at Vanka's table, he mechanically pulled out a drawer. In the interweaving of wires and a heap of bristling resistors with transistors, a button stuck out alone. Vankin's clumsy letters on a torn corner of a piece of paper: "Press."
Some kind of lump crept out of the soles and began to significantly interfere somewhere under the shoulder blade. Such a familiar feeling when you expect something, and only you yourself can take it and do it now. Just right now and immediately. And then the lump will again fall somewhere at the feet and dissolve there ...
By pressing the button, Denis almost knew what was about to happen. Somehow, in an instant, all the last years with Vanka formed into one straight line, like a rail. ...like a rail... ...like a rail...
Abruptly, as if she had been slammed with a sledgehammer, Madonna stopped barking. The smell is gone. The room grew larger, spreading outward through the ceiling and walls. The wallpaper went white, the closet grew like in a cartoon, the table blurred and became twice as big and a hundred times cleaner. Vanka's heaped up wall clocks were replaced by ordinary Chinese ones.
Seven-year-old Denis jumped off his chair, got tangled in his trousers and sleeves and almost fell. There was no surprise, because the surprise remained there. It will catch up later, but now there is no time for it. …no time. ... no time ... "The more wire, the more time left!!!" Well! Baby, how much wire did you have? Denis glanced at his watch - eighteen-twenty. And how is it in this rap? Eighteen-thirty... Eighteen-thirty...
A strange mess was going on in his head, Denis realized that the consciousness and worldview of a seven-year-old boy had returned to him, and he was horrified at the thought that he would not be able to think of anything in those ten minutes. Ten minutes! Ten! You little bastard, couldn't you make me have adult brains? What can I do, sir...
Despair took possession of Denis. Tears splashed into two fountains, he screamed and suddenly stopped crying .... Voice. His voice became that seven-year-old voice that he suddenly remembered very sharply and accepted and got used to.
Upstairs, a drunken father was snoring, and this snoring was also clearly remembered and took its rightful place. Denis rushed into the bedroom, realizing that even by waking up his father he would not achieve anything, because ten minutes is very little to explain to a drunken man who did not wake up that his unborn son had assembled a time machine from parts from coffee grinders and sent him, Denis in the past, so that my mother could give birth, having two legs and a head, looking with living eyes at the white ceiling and screaming with joyful pain with living lips ....
This heap of idiotic thoughts brought Denis to a state of "stop". So. So everything is in order with the brains, sorry, Vanka, for the bastard.
Delay. Just stop mom for half a minute. But it's ten kilometers from here! Vanka-ah!!! Help-ah-ah!!! Well, it’s not in vain that you started all this ... well, don’t wait ten years again, grinding all this in the second round. And you won’t succeed anymore, because I already know and the time will still be different ....
Voice ... my childish voice ... my mother loved it so much when I, a little stammering and burping, read aloud to her about a bull swaying and a bear dropped to the floor ... Lord, what a cretin I am! After all, mom and dad already had mobile phones, heavy as bricks ... upstairs, to the bedroom!
…so where? Well, where did you put it, you drunken bastard... I suppose it’s in your inner pocket... turn it over... well, you were a hog, papachen... these trousers and sleeves are also confused... Watch, where is the watch? God no! Five minutes… five minutes, damn it!!! Five minutes-o-o-o-o, five minutes-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o... Well, why turn off your mobile phone? Now it will be loaded for half an hour ... Lord, give me the strength to just not go crazy. And to hell with it, with the train. Just don't go crazy. What?? What is this, a pin code? Lord, why?? Why do you need a pin code ... although ... so, okay. Must be recorded. Should. The phone is only a week old, I remember how he brought these two boxes and a bunch of papers, contracts, prices ... Incoming - a dollar, outgoing - three ... Notebook ... No! There must be a code in the contract! Contract in a box, box... where??, Where the hell is the box?? ... yes, I'm definitely not a seven-year-old boy ... Antresol. God, I can't reach... a chair, two volumes of an encyclopedia, so, here it is. Papers, papers… damn… here! Here it is, a fucking pin code, a pipe, enter it, four two six eight, squeaked - accepted, so, now find my mother in the notebook, as he called her there, well, not “mother”, is it ... Wife? There is not. Valya, Valentina, Valechka, Valenok? There is not. Lord-and-and-and!! Vanka! Help little... This is ... well ... here! Wow! Mosenka! Mosenka, damn me! Pug dad called mom, and tenderly - Mosenka ...
Everything, the beeps went. Shoot... Damn, she doesn't charge when she's driving! Two minutes. Two. Two minutes... Well, stop and pick up the phone, what if I get sick, I have a high temperature or a drunk dad fell down the stairs and broke his neck and lies like you with your head rolled up ... Pick up the phone, bitch! ..I'm in vain or something here, damn it, pinned down, in this your three fucking fucking time!!! Yes? Mum? ... mommy .. Mommy, I need to tell you something, have you stopped? No, everything is fine, dad is sleeping, are you stopped? Yes, I know that it's expensive, well, did you stop or not ??? No, everything is fine, I'm just afraid of one ... Stopped? Well, wait a bit, and I’ll tell you something interesting now ... Here ... Here I found a piece of paper with poems, now, mommy, no, not at home, at home it’s not interesting, I need it now .... Listen.
Tomorrow will be like yesterday, only you know how
Do not love people as the center of goodness.
Do not love with gifts, but love with a tear,
You became small yesterday, tomorrow you were big.
The stars will fall like powder
Tomorrow will be like yesterday, only better.
Yes? What? Can't hear from the train? Okay, I'll finish it at home! Mom, mom, we are all waiting for you here, mom! What? Well, who, who ... me ... and dad.
TOMORROW WILL BE LIKE YESTERDAY
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