Crazy Detective. Funny detective. StaVl Zosimov Premudroslovsky

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Crazy Detective. Funny detective - StaVl Zosimov Premudroslovsky

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are you? We must do everything according to the charter and justice.

      – And he yells at me in fairness?

      – He is the director. He knows better. And he himself will be justified before God.

      – Is that the one hanging on the wall in the office?

      – Nearly. There hangs Iron Felix, his deputy. Okay, go do your homework.

      – I did. Mom, can I go for a walk on the river?

      – Go, but remember, puppy: drown, don’t come home. I’ll kill you… Got it?

      – Yes. – Izzy shouted and disappeared behind the door…

      – Uuh, – the controller, a native of some Latvian collective farm, shook her head, letting visitors through. – There is no conscience, it’s obvious that the face is not Russian, and the general’s uniform pulled on.

      – And there is an administrative punishment for it.. – explained Sergeant Golytko, a native of Lviv.

      – And here is my passport, with a screech, Harutun Karapetovich and handed him a penta. – Russian. I am Russian, mine!

      – Like me, – added a pent

      – And I. – bulging out her eyes, the controller added.

      – Well, you’re all right. – The leaf passport pronounced the pent, – although for a second, – looked from under the foreheads, – are you an artist? – into the multi-colored eyes, after which he lowered his studying look at the ears, – or zoophile?

      Ottila’s eyes hatched and he neighed like a gelding, looking at Intsefalopat. The corporal reddened.

      – Well, stitch, with which cattle depot you, or at home culture? – the attendant handed the passport to Harutun.

      – What kind of artist am I? I am not a full-time assistant to the local village of Sokolov Stream, Leningrad Region.

      – Oh, gored, get out of here. – the duty officer suggested.

      – This is my identification.

      – Corporal, you say? – the sergeant scratched his cheek and put a seed in his mouth. – well, you’re free, and this one will come with me.

      – What does it mean, “come with me”? – the Bedbug was indignant. – Let me call my boss now? He will set your brains…

      – You call, you call there, in my office, and in the beginning I’ll test you for a search, maybe you are a Chechen terrorist or you escaped from your parents. Come on, let’s go. the servant scolded and simply shoved him: either with the butt or with the barrel, Ottil was entrusted to him with an assault rifle in the railway guard duty room train station. Ancephalopath followed him and even wanted to go on fire with his Ottila, as it seemed to Klop, immediately disappeared behind the column and pretended not to know Klop.

      – Harutun, call Isolde, let him bring the documents! – shouted Klop.

      “And quicker,” added the sergeant, “otherwise he will stay with us for a long time.”

      – And when will it be released? asked Harutun.

      – How to establish a person…

      – Three days? – the old man smiled.

      – Or maybe three years. – answered the attendant. – if he will not resist the authorities. – and slammed the door from the inside.

      Incephalopath, with the fingers of his left hand, hugged his thin chin and, meowing under his nose, decided to carry out the assignment, which suited him and his Boss. He quickly walked out of the station into the street and immediately stopped.

      – Where am I going? Harutun asked himself.

      – To Isolde, you fool. – answered sarcastically an inner voice.

      – So there is no money? What will I go to?

      – And you, for the sake of your beloved, steal, over there, from that fat-faced man sitting in a black jeep.

      – Her, she’ll beat her face. And not supposed to, I’m a pent?!

      And while Harutun consulted with his inner voice, Klop, having given his data, modestly dozed off while sitting in a monkey.

      – Hey bum, good fart! – Shouted the attendant. Ottila flinched and opened her bulging eyes. He mopped his mouth and, feeling a slush in his mouth, tried to collect his saliva with his tongue, but there was not enough dampness in his mouth and he asked for a toilet.

      – Colleague, can I use the toilet?

      “It is possible,” the elders answered good-naturedly, “but if you wash it.”

      – Why? – Ottila was indignant, – I’m a detainee, but you have a cleaning lady in your state and she needs to wash the floor.

      – Should but not be obliged to wash dolnyak after such stinking homeless people. Well, so how?

      – I will not wash a point! – Generally Bedbug said categorically.

      – Well then shit in your pants. And if something hits the floor, then you will fagot the entire compartment.

      – It is against the law; you must provide me with a toilet and a telephone.

      – And what else do I owe? Ahh? – the sergeant arrived.

      Ottila said nothing. And having felt that he was about to grow up, he all the same agreed. Moreover, no one sees.

      – Ok, I agree.

      – Okay. the sergeant rejoiced and led Klop to the toilet. – a rag, powder there, under the sink. And for the technicals I get. The crisis, hahaha.

      – And where is the bucket and toilet paper?

      – Rinse the rag in the sink, and wipe your ass with your finger. – the sergeant was mistaken.

      – Like this? – surprised Klop.

      – How do you learn, I basically have sandpaper, I can offer, and with plain paper we have a lot of stress. The crisis in the country. Moreover, we are state employees.

      Ottila made sour on his face and, taking the proposed paper, climbed onto the toilet. There was a loud drizzle, Pent turned and went outside, closing the post. And Ottila relaxed, looked between his legs and wrinkled his face. Not only did the stink of sour eyes hurt, but all the trousers from the outside were riddled with a small, nasty in color, smelly drysnyak. There was no question of the toilet. Even drops of diarrhea flickered on the wall.

      Incephalopath stood at the column and, seeing the sergeant who had left the post, quickly ran to him.

      – Hello! apchi,

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