Damn Korneev.

Damn, you need to do the legs. And the faster the better. And I'm not even worried about the reaction of Zvyagina, who can't chew a sausage in any way, I'm worried about my long tongue. He is still a traitor to me when this sms-juice scribbler appears on the horizon.

Therefore, it is better to leave quietly and beautifully. Do not hook on all the chairs along the way, do not turn over any table with food and do not crash out of the blue. Walk around the dining room as if I were wearing an invisibility cloak, and my feet were not ballet flats, but house...