[5/20] Makarovgrad Will Win!!!

I woke up hard. It was hard and long.
After smashing the rattling
alarm clock into pieces with a sledgehammer, I felt better, but
not one hundred percent. I looked at the mangled CORP's watch. The crooked
hands showed seven hours and
an unknown number of minutes, since
the minute hand was pointing at me.
- It's a shame, it was a good alarm clock, - I thought and threw it into a pile of the same
good ones, crumpled, bent, broken,
flattened, crushed, sawn, broken alarm clocks.
- Soon they will declare war on me, - I
was frightened, but immediately calmed down and shouted
a motto-greeting.
- Makarovgrad will win!!! - swept
through the halls, basements, attics.
The power of the SBM director’s voice was felt.
- Two! - there was an answering cry.
- Shtoza Damn, there are two again?!
- Yes, my lord, today there are only two
glasses, - answered Shtoza.
- Are those days really gone when I
shout broke the windows of my neighbors and why
they called me the Glass Cutter? True, then
I shouted something else... What kind of word is this?
Oh yes, I remembered...
- HOY!!! - a wild scream cut through the dusk.
There was a roar and an eerie ringing
of breaking glass. The glass kept falling, and
falling, and falling...
It took me a long time to wake up. Quickly glancing at my watch, I cried out:
-Eight hours ten minutes! - rang out my very loud voice.
- Yes, my lord, - Shtoza’s voice rang out no less.
- Is the food ready, Damn?
- Always alive, - the servant answered in a standard manner.
I was calm. Walking into the living room, I
had breakfast and headed towards the garage. From
it came the sound of a hammer hitting an anvil and
the sound of breaking bulletproof
glass. Walking into the garage, I called out to
Razdolbaylo.
- Well, where is my car? - I asked calmly.
Razdolbaylo looked at me reproachfully and, taking off his chainmail mittens,
said:
- You didn’t pay me for ten major
repairs and about thirty
maintenance with complete replacement of parts.
- Thank you, Vint, - I thanked
since I knew that I had parked the car at
the tenth repair.
- Yes, you're welcome. As always - the engine
changed, the interior changed, - Vint began
listing the components of a modern
car, removing the white
cover from the Ferrari, - he changed the bridge and the body
changed, and also replaced the rear-view mirror
.
- Excellent job Razdolbaylo! - I began to dissolve in
gratitude.
- Only now...
- Well, thank you, Vint, - I couldn’t calm down.
- Just...
- Come on, Vint, what else do you need,
- I was already starting to get angry.
- Money for gasthere wasn't enough - that's what, - said Vint and hid behind the lathe.
Having carefully hidden himself from me with steel,
the master continued: you, son of bitch! - I cried and,
snatching the Makarov pistol, slammed the entire clip into the lathe, he was offended and
broke. In anger, I sat down on a can of gasoline and warmly asked the master: “Your mother, why are you telling me this now?” Fir trees, how am I going to get to school?
“I can offer you a bicycle,” he looked out from behind the machine and again
disappeared.
- The director of SBM and the arborist to school?!
What are you doing?! - I barked and forcefully kicked the barrel of gasoline, it fell on its side and began to spill its contents across the workshop floor.
Devilishly furious, I got behind the wheel of my trusty Ferrari and drove to school.
Something was wrong. Ninth gear was difficult to engage, and the car stubbornly refused to accelerate to 400 km/h. Only 399.
The ground was washed away by yesterday's rain and it didn't have time to dry yet - we had to reduce
the speed to 398 km/h. Tired of driving so
slowly, I turned onto the path and took
a detour.
Looks like I was a couple of minutes lateto
the beginning of classes, but, not very
upset about this, I abandoned
the car at the entrance and went to algebra.
“Six lessons,” I thought.
“Five,” Irina
Anatolyevna, who is also a prankster, told me.
I remember she composed some
poem, and the girl, who
copied it from a friend, was put on the cross for malicious hooliganism and
distribution of anti-human,
pro-fascist literature. But this is so, by the way, I had to.
- Didn’t you do D.Z. (home
task (translator's note), - the teacher sang directly.
- Yes, I DID NOT do it, - I growled.
Having fallen silent, she began to explain a new
topic, while I started a conversation with
Vask, my friend.
- Well, what? - I asked multitasking.
- No, no, - Vasek also answered multitasking, - yesterday I took out another 16
meters of memory chips.
Vasily immediately began to take out
numerous cubic
centimeters of SIMMs from his pocket. When he finished this
long task, I pushed away the
mountain ridge formed by a certain
number of RAM modules
for various types of
electronic computers with 70
pin slots...
- Septium (official name P7 (
translator's note) added? -I asked Vasily.
- Still at night. He's furious. I installed 5
fans and a steam
cooling system for it. Now we don't need to heat the boiler at home. I turn on the computer and within 5 minutes the flies in the house are dying from the heat,” Vasya, a specialist in iron and
plastics, explained to me.
“Well, guys? - I turned to
the others. Everyone became quiet, expecting
something. Complete silence reigned and all you could hear was the mathematician trying to hammer home knowledge into the careless students and the water dripping. Actually, it was not water, but sweat, and it fell from the forehead of Fatin, a longtime debtor to comrade. Potapova.
- Did you bring me MY 15,000 rubles? - I asked again.
“Well, it’s agreed, right Seva,
come on, that’s it, that’s it,” Irina Anatolyevna entered again, but immediately fell silent under
the gaze of an armada of razor-sharp eyes.
The silence was too complete. The sweat is no longer dripping. And
everyone knows how this pause will end.
- Seva, don’t! Yesterday I painted the walls! - the teacher screamed, but
it was already too late.
The shot was not long in coming.
The hand mortar spat out a shell of
50 mm caliber. Everyone fell to the floor and only two
figures, the victim and her killer, stood opposite each other. The projectile reached its target
and entered the abdominal cavity. Fatin
looked at me knowingly andexploded.
His parts were everywhere, blood covered every
covering, and his brain was thoroughly
spread across the ceiling. I came out of
the shelter clean, as always.
“Continue,” I asked the teacher.
The lesson continued, and there were five of them...
At recess, I went out to clear my head from the
smell of blood that was pursuing me. Having shot him from the TT and at the same time dispersed the smokers, I left a narrow contingent of our class. Suddenly my
radiophone rang.
- I’m listening... - I said.
- Hello, Seva! This is Andrey. Sorry, didn't I leave my knife with you? Do you remember
we threw it at the door at your dacha... -
came the voice of Andrei Chuev, an agent of
SBM, where I was in charge.
- No, you took it along with the door.
By the way, how is my machine gun?
- Normal, only the cartridges
are over, next time I’ll take two
boxes. Come and pick up your
heavy metal product.
- It may be heavy, but good things
should be plentiful and heavy. I remember
I once shot down a Boeing above my villa...
- Okay, Seva, I’m having breakfast...
I turned off the phone. Potapov knew that
if comrade. Chuev is eating, so it’s better not to bother him. Maybe eat it. Just a beast.
Since there was nothing planned, I
gasped up the car and went to the second lesson
algebra.
Solack of fresh air, I ended up in a death chamber.
It’s stuffy. The interrogation has begun.
“Vanin, to the blackboard,” said Irina
Anatolyevna with the intonation “to the wall.”
Kolya walked up to the teacher’s desk and
hovered over the victim. Having forcibly closed the hanging application using Ctrl + Alt + Del followed by pressing Enter, she tried to get out, but in vain.
- What do you need? - Kolya asked sweetly. Otherwise
he didn’t know how to talk, or maybe
he just didn’t want to.
- Nothing... Nothing... - the teacher repeated, running a trembling finger along the lines of the logbook.
- Potapov will answer me...
- Only in the presence of a lawyer, - I snapped.
- Okay, then... Stupnikov
- Maybe at the next...
- No! You won't live to see the next one!
(laughter in class, no comments from anyone)
- Repeat the question, please.
- I won't repeat it, I haven't asked it yet!
Why are you silent?! What are you hiding?!
Talk!
- I don’t know...
- Oh, you don’t know... WHO KNOWS?!!!
Answer, YOU CRIMINAL!!! I WILL ROTT!!! BASTARD,
ANSWER!!!
Stupnikov began to cry. Poor Misha.
- Speak! Who was third on the locomotive?
Where is the tank of iron filings? Who killed
Smurrian agent Lapezia? Where's the milk can? Why doesn't the 8*8 scroll fit into INT
? Why switch pages by
OUT (#FD),A ?
Misha screamed and ran out ofclass.
A muffled shot rang out. The sound
of a falling body woke me up.
Irina Anatolyevna took out a red pen
and, with an evil grin on her face,
crossed out the names of Stupnikov and Fatin from
the eleventh grade journal.
A bell was heard and machine gun fire.
A howitzer barked and a big
change began.
On the way to the car I was stopped by riot police.
They fell behind as soon as they saw
the ID of an SSB employee. I got into
the car and went to the capital of Makarovgrad
to Andrey for a machine gun, information and
money from the Ministry of Finance.
And now to the laboratory!

Regards,
Random
--
Lord of Chaos.
e-mail: ran...@cybermail.net

Concern Chaos WWW HQ: http://www.cybermail.net/~random/