Saturday morning, the long-awaited day off. The sun gently and timidly looks out the window, the neighbors forgot about the drills and quietly snuffle into the pillow. Silence and grace...

Only one indefatigable fortune teller can not sleep, and he is banging on my door!

— Eight in the morning! - I was indignant right into Ivan's swarthy physiognomy.

He was also lucky that his parents, as always, were at the theater weekend. Otherwise, dad would have said the same thing to the fortuneteller, only in his ear and in falsetto. And my mother threw a tantrum that the guest was in the house, but she was not at the...