Character: Thomas Lang

- Arrogant son of a bitch, huh?
The question is not at. My mom, by the way, adores me.

Somewhere the clock ticked. Pretty quickly. Too quickly, it seemed to me to really count down the seconds. Although it was American territory, so it's possible the Americans once decided that seconds is fucking too slow and it would be good to speed up a minute seconds to, say, twenty? Then we, your mother will be more hours in one fucking day than these ***s-anglichashkami.

Arms crossed on his chest, he leaned back in his chair:
- Bloody hell!
- Sir?
Say, if you long to sit and do nothing, good luck itself will come to you.

He leaned down so that our noses almost touched:
- Hey, you piece of shit...
But then for him to move failed. In response to "shit" I sharply bucked right foot and punched him with his knee in the face.

Of course, there was one, and a very good reason why I wanted to keep in his good graces. Yeah, maybe he's a little crazy, and his daughter - nothing more than a glorified FIFA, turned fur inside. However, I could not deny the obvious fact: this couple definitely had some charm.

Pain is an event. Which happens to you, and deal with whom you need alone - all available to you ways.

Taking out a bottle of "Famous grouse" and a glass I poured myself two fingers and trudged to the kitchen. Diluting whisky with water just enough to partridge from "famous" was "barely familiar"...

But there is a rule: after every battle - no matter you won or lost, again to mentally scroll events, in order to learn a lesson.

Money has only one positive feature, one: they can buy a lot of various things. Otherwise it's incredibly vulgar, vulgar and disgusting thing that I absolutely do not like.

Someone once told me that thinking out loud helps make many things clearer. Remember, I said then: "Even unrefined oil?" - but I was told that, well, no, butter is not a ride, but will work with everything else that disturbs the soul.

You see, in prison I have visited. However, only three weeks and only in prevailance, but when you twice a day you have to play chess with a sullen, fierce supporter of "West ham", whose tattoo "KILL" on one hand and "KILL" to another, and even a set of chess pieces where the missing six pawns, all the rooks and two bishops, - in General, you can not help suddenly you start to appreciate things. For example, such as freedom.

And since we do not thumps on his knees to thank heaven every time when trouble is passing, what's the point to whine and moan when it all catches up with us?

After all, what does it mean to say that things are not going so hot? Not so hot compared to what? You will immediately answer: Yes, at least compared to how they were a few hours ago or a couple of years ago. However, the essence of something is not in it. If you take two cars with no brakes, hurtling directly into a brick wall, and one of them cuts out for a moment before the other, how can you say that the second car had more luck? Trouble and death. Every second of our lives they were hovering over us, trying to get us. For the most part missing. Thousands of miles on the freeway with not a single puncture in the front wheel. Thousands of viruses, ran through our bodies, and no never caught. Thousands of pianos, flying to the pavement in a minute after we passed by. Or a month, whatever.

It's one thing when a salesperson convinces you that the washing machine is a miracle. It's quite another when this broadcasts the Archbishop of Canterbury, saying that it is God's miracle, if the dirt is removed even at low temperatures. In my opinion, the difference is huge.