Interesting and Humour - page 4705
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:)) Nice! I love Vysotsky. I've never been drunk as hell before ))
:)) Nice! I love Vysotsky. I've never been drunk out of my mind ))
Two drunkards, one pushes the other with his elbow to the side and pokes him on the edge of the table:
- look, a devil :)
- where?!?!
- there he is, can't you see him?
- No...
- you're drunk... you can't even see the devil...
Two people drunk, one pushes the other with his elbow to the side and pokes him on the edge of the table:
- look, a devil :)
- where?!?!
- There he is, can't you see him?
- No...
- You're drunk... you can't even see the devil...
By the way, I just remembered, to continue my first story.
I once lived in the village of another grandmother.
And there was a rumour in the village that sometimes they see a woman with a pram on one of the central crossroads. You mean a ghost. But of course, not many people believed it.
So it was a kind of horror story and at the same time it was a joke, how people talked nonsense, they joked -Yeah, go to the crossroads at night ))
So then how come on the occasion, an old granny told us that in some hairy years at this intersection hit a woman with a baby to death.
A horse in a horse-drawn carriage got mad and went straight at her and the baby and ran her over. And like Granny said, that's where she stayed, and that's why they see her there.
That's the way it is.
Just describing what I've seen unusual with my own eyes in my life.
That's something to remember for the rest of your life ))
But humour accepted ))
or maybe it was not a window, but Windows ?
;)
then it fits
or maybe it was not vindov, but Windows ?
Rena, what was Windows in the early 80s in the Soviet Union?)
When I was a young student, a friend of mine used to work as a janitor at a boarding school. I used to drop in on him at night, play cards, tell jokes, and work out in the well-equipped gym in the basement.
At 8 p.m. every day the cleaning lady would come and wash the floors all over the huge, old and very gloomy building of the boarding school with its high ceilings. Any rustling, creaking of the floorboards, echoed through the deserted corridors. The cleaning lady's 4-year-old daughter was running up and down the wide, oak-railed staircases as usual, unafraid of the darkness.... The sound of children's feet stomping on the stone floors was so audible that we could hear what she was doing, but then suddenly the sound of children's sandals on the stone floors faded, and we could hear the girl talking to someone.
After a couple of minutes she came down to us from the top floor to the ground floor, to our cubicle, and joyfully, confusedly blurted out: "I met Grandpa, he's very nice, he only has one leg, he said his name is Fedor!" ....
And then the girl's mother and my friend looked at each other, they knew who the girl had seen, it was the same watchman, Grandpa Fyodor, who had died six months before and who had been replaced at work by my friend.
When I was a young student, a friend of mine used to work as a janitor at a boarding school. I used to drop in on him at night, play cards, tell jokes, and work out in the well-equipped gymnasium in the basement.
At 8 p.m. every day the cleaning lady would come and wash the floors all over the huge, old and very gloomy building of the boarding school with its high ceilings. Any rustling, creaking of the floorboards, echoed through the deserted corridors. The cleaning lady's four-year-old daughter was running up and down the wide, oak-railed staircases as usual, unafraid of the darkness.... The sound of children's feet stomping on the stone floors was so audible that we could hear what she was doing, but then suddenly the sound of children's sandals on the stone floors faded, and we could hear the girl talking to someone.
After a couple of minutes she came down to us from the top floor to the ground floor, to our cubicle, and joyfully, confusedly blurted out: "I met Grandpa, he's very nice, he only has one leg, he said his name is Fedor!" ....
And then the girl's mother and my friend looked at each other, they knew who the girl had seen, it was the same watchman, Grandpa Fyodor, who had died six months before and who had been replaced at work by my friend.
There is a theoretical possibility of another grandfather with one leg, who is also called Fedor. And he came by mistake, having got lost in the city streets).
You're not getting the atmosphere, Petya! Every creak and rustle can be heard perfectly well, and here's a one-legged grandfather (who had a wooden prosthesis when he was alive) somehow sneaking through closed windows and doors and silently walking around the floors in the dark... well)))))
yeah i immediately snapped and ran to check who the girl saw! - no one.
Funny.... the forum has substituted a link to my story, which it turns out I already told 10 years ago.... it's a little different, but still, my memory's not the same anymore...
https://www.mql5.com/ru/forum/107559/page390#comment_3025142