Mikhail Yurievich Kozhukhov. Alien stars over Kabul (№ 426041)

I decided to sit in the hallway of my apartment, relatively safe, in my opinion, and began to count the missiles. When the sixth of them exploded nearby, the phone rang. Moscow. Mummy.
- How are you? Is it very dangerous there?
- What are you, it's in order, amazingly interesting, wonderful fruit.
Ba-bah! The seventh rocket rustled over the roof and spat in the distance.