apchi. – asked the corporal.
– Smell your hand and make a sanitary and epidemiological conclusion of the composition of the substance applied to the skin. Got it?
Incephalopath waved his head in agreement and walked reluctantly to the kid and squeamishly brought his hand to his nose. I sniffed the vapors that evaporated from the palm of my hand and shook the tip of the nose, then the bridge of the nose, then by inertia the wave passed to the necks, forehead and lips, and it was clear how he swallowed it all. The hat and fingers of Idot’s palm clenched sharply, clutching Arutun’s very long nose and pulled to him.
Harutun grabbed his fist with both hands, wrinkled his face and tried to tear it from his nose, but the kid had previously relaxed his fingers and abruptly removed it. Incephalopath jerked his head to the ass and almost fell on his ass. He recovered and gave a slap to Idot. He, who had received such a thing more than once, evaded and Harutun, having missed, followed by hand inertia and fell into a flower bed.
– Well, does it stink? asked Klop and handed his little hand to a colleague so that he could get up.
– Mdaa, apchi. – Arutun stood up himself, rejecting Klop’s offers.
– What is “Mdaa”?
– I didn’t make out, Apchi, – stuttering and holding by the nose, Harutun went through.
– Did you check his documents?
– Yes, this is a visitor, apchi, from Kazakhstan, where there is a chuyka.
– What a scent?
– Well, apchi, Chuiskaya valley, hemp grows there.
– And what did Che come here? – asked Idota Klop.
– And what did you come here? – answered Idot.
– What are you, a greyhound? I was born here.
– Doesn’t look like, why did he come here? – Pointed a finger at the Intsephalopath Patzan.
– And in the forehead? apchi. – shook his nose and splashed elephants in the Caucasian Harutun.
– I asked, what came here?
– Rodaki moved. I did not live sickly there either. – bored teenager.
– And why, you can’t forget Anasha? Rushing?
– I do not understand what you mean? I say, shit and wiped his ass with his palm…
– Why are you so vulgar? Not the Kents, all the same with you, and the deadline… Ten shines.. Che do not laugh?
– At least apchi. – added Harutun. – Plus – resistance to the authorities.
The kid blushed.
– And what, in Kazakhstan, they don’t put for anasha? – Ottila changed her tone.
– Well, as a matter of fact they plant it, – Idot rubbed his nose. – but I worked legally.
– What, legally? apchi. – surprised Harutun.
– Hemp collected? Ay! – Ottila again hit the same finger with a hammer.
– Like this? Something you, apchi, you drive nonsense, schmuck. – Arutun hit.
– Where did you catch him? – bug Klop. – far away from here?
– No, through the house, in the trash. Apchi, and most importantly, it grows there evenly, like in a garden.. You planted, apchi, a dog?
– Wait, Harutun,.. come on here syudy? – ordered Klop.
Idot reluctantly approached.
– Sit down. Ottila pointed to a nearby bucket and turned it over, but it was without a bottom. Idot sat down.
– Extend your hands to me, palms down… Here. Now, Harutun, bring the newspaper.
– Where from? apchi.
– Ask your wife..
– Pisyunya, give me a newspaper! apchi.
– Who? Pisyunya?
– Apchi, apchi, apchi … – Harutun turned red
Idot chuckled.
– What are you laughing at? – Ottila turned to the porch. “Izolda, bring the paper here!”
– Take it yourself! Not stepmother grew up! Isolda snarled.
– Go get it. – in a low voice sent corporal Klop. Harutun brought the newspaper in half an hour, Ottila had already managed to align a hundred nails.
– What the fuck did you go for death? Come here.
Ottila took the newspaper and spread it on the anvil.
– Three. – ordered the bug
– Four. – Idot answered in bewilderment.
– What, four?
– Well, three – four – five…
– Are you kidding me? spit in your hands and three, three to holes. Erase all your shit from your hands.
– What for?
– Do you want to demonstrate this in the district police department laboratory?
– No.
– Then three here and fast.
The kid quickly rubbed a ball with a pea and handed it to Klop.
– In? Wow! – surprised Klop.
– Immediately felt, apchi, the hand of a professional.
Ottila pea wrapped in gold from a cigarette under a piece of paper up. And set fire to a lighter. The paper burned and dried the pea. Ottila unfolded and pounded a pea with a hammer. Loosened up with tobacco gutted from a cigarette and scored back. Sealed and completed at the end. I put a twisted piece of cardboard from under the matchbox into the filter place. And with his tongue he moistened the top of the cigarette and lit it. The jamb crunched and the retraction directly sucked to the precinct’s lungs and he remembered Africa. Its open spaces and the jungle. Dancing underneath there with the papuascas stinking out of my mouth. Olivier from the brains of a black man from a neighboring tribe who came for salt. First sex with a hippo and more. In the end, he, pouting like a bubble, held his breath, gradually letting out the gin’s winged smoke in gusts. His blood was enriched with cheerful oxygen and he felt as if he had flown in zero gravity. Everything around was bright and buzzing. Ottila’s childhood came and everything around began to please. The dog climbed out of the booth and, seeing the stupid gaze of the owner, danced and wagged his tail.
– Nothing
