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ArtistAnd he answers back, crosses me, and yells in a foul language: Kolya, where are you, the devil is talking to me in your voice. I go to him with jars of pickles and tomatoes in both hands, and I say: "Vasya, stop drinking, I'll give you more dick, you're losing your mind. And Vasiliy did not stop, ran to the stove, grabbed the poker and came at me. He hit me on the head with the poker with all his might. I grabbed my head in pain and let the cans out of my hands. The cans broke. The contents spilled out on the floor. I grabbed my head and screamed: - What are you doing, you half-assed humanoid? And this blue humanoid, no matter what, he took another swing at me with the poker. I decided to dodge it. I backed away. But it was not there, I slipped on two cucumbers and a tomato, and how I flew into hell, there where the devil Vaska came out. You know, in the cellar. How come I didn't break my neck while I was going headlong down the stairs.
A man with a backpack gazes thoughtfully at illuminated jars, his finger to his lips in a hushed gesture, amidst a warm glowing ambiance.