Golikov Oleg is an extraordinary person and writes vividly and sweepingly
I'll copy-paste some parts of his "Crimean Joker", those who like it will find the original
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Discussion started by Shpilevoy , on October 27 08:51
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FoxDuhovny, 27.10.2016 23:06
FoxSpiritual
Yes, I have seen this with a jackpot and more than once, though in the Russian Federation the winnings were more modest... There was one guy, a so-so dude, a regular at slot machines, he slept and ate and earned and lost money on them, over and over again... I met him once in the capital in one of the movie theaters where a casino had settled in the lobby, there was a chain of different one-armed machines, all connected to a jackpot board, on it was the inscription 12445.99, the last 4 digits were cleverly wound up in the plus. I sat down at the roulette and usually waited for my turn... waited and killed the bet on number 6 after 25 came up... 6 came up at the cash register, I counted the winnings somewhere around 35 thousand rubles... came back and sat behind the wheel again... a confused guy accidentally met me after a desperate drain in one of the jackpot bandits... he saw a familiar face and his face lit up with a smiling look... Hi Andryukh - he whispered and held out a cigarette. Hi - Vadim, I answered. - You see, here's the thing, he dragged on... I have a rule to never lend to players... but after listening to the obsessed Vadik, I made an exception... - Vad - I continued - I catch zero after 17, the next 20 spins the win is about 20 thousand. If you're right in your sayings about the jackpot, I'll give you all the current winnings, in case of a jackpot, you'll double it and you'll have some left... I must say that Vadim was a man of his word, so I maintained a relationship with him. On the 14th spin, Zero was caught... Vadik received 22 thousand from me and went to the one-armed... Half an hour later, exactly what he'd been waiting for obsessively happened. The two-ruble bandit gave out the jackpot on the mountain... Vadik collapsed on a chair and lit a cigarette - You see, Andryukh, I told you he'd give it!!! - Vadim drawled. From his calm tone I understood that he loaded at least half of it there - and indeed with mine the total bet in the machine was 122 thousand, but he won it all back and got plus 100%. What are you going to do? I asked. I got a foreign passport the other day, I'll go for a ride in Monte Carlo, I saved up 50 thousand bucks here, I've been dreaming of going away for a long time... The last time he called me was in 2006... He hit the jackpot in Monte Carlo, 6 million US dollars, said that he would go to the States, his aunt lives there... Anything can happen in life, if you sincerely believe in it, friends!!!
Shpilevoy, 27.10.2016 21:24
Shpilevoy
…Four months later, in the first-class cabin of a Lufthansa flight from Kyiv to Boston with a layover in Frankfurt, sat a beautiful young woman. Her white, wrinkle-free face was so still that it resembled an alabaster Venetian mask. There was something eerie in those long, dark-coffee eyes with their long eyelashes, standing out sharply against her lifeless, snow-white skin.
A pretty blonde girl of about eight was dozing next to her. The young stewardess serving drinks politely suggested to the pretty lady:
“Take some carrot juice, with pulp… The future baby needs vitamins,” the girl in the blue uniform smiled tenderly, gesturing with her eyes at the passenger’s belly, slightly protruding under her elegant dress.
The strange woman, without changing her expression, nodded indifferently in response and took a glass of juice.
Placing it on a small nickel-plated table next to the chair, she took out a black book with gold letters on the cover from her bag, unfolded it and read:
"...Boris Yuryevich Frolov. Philosophical essay "The Path from the Abyss""
Repeating the title to herself, she tore her eyes away from the page and looked sadly out the porthole.
The plane was flying over Greenland. Somewhere far below, on the endless grey expanse of the ocean, light spots of numerous icebergs were visible, which looked like small drops of melted ice cream in the water. The huge island itself, permeated with permafrost, looked gloomy and unfriendly. From the height of the plane, its poor relief was barely discernible, showing through in small dark bald spots of either high hills or dirty swamps.
The woman sipped the bright drink, briefly fixed her gaze on the jaggedly torn half of a one-dollar bill that served as a bookmark in the black book, and continued reading:
“…Another death – what could be sadder? – I’m looking for new topics.
Enough of our grief over losses and despair at the sight of those around us! Seas of tears have already been shed, and islands of joy await their Robinsons. Let there be nothing more that can darken our eyes.
"Good news," "nirvana" - let's leave all this to the barren cows chewing their age-old cud. And let's rush away from the suffocating crypt of human history.
The time has come to write our history in new fiery letters, and let these inscriptions shine not on the “ruins of the old world” — these fragments stink. I want to see new sacred lines in the clear sky of the dawn that once greeted Zarathustra on distant mountain peaks, where even now one can still hear the unceasing echo:
"And they told me that this road leads to the ocean of Death. And I turned back halfway. And since then, crooked and deaf roundabout paths have stretched before me..."
Marina carefully placed half a dollar bill between the pages, adjusted the pillow under the sleeping girl's head and closed her eyes. She sat like that for several minutes. Then, waking up, she pulled the dark blue filter on the porthole, opened the book and began to read on.
The sun was rising over the Atlantic Ocean…
Shpilevoy, 27.10.2016 21:19
Shpilevoy
Lidiya Petrovna had been waiting for Korablyov in her house for a long time. She had just spoken to Grib on the phone and subtly hinted to him that perhaps the case with the American sucker was going bad before his eyes. Lomakin irritably tried to convince her that not all was lost.
That his guys are now combing through all the hotels in the city and have blocked all possible escape routes, including highways.
"They blocked it, how could they..." Lida thought angrily after finishing the conversation and lit a cigarette, "the sucker was almost in hand, and these Stirlitzes and Müllers are still playing cop ambush! Oh, Borya, how could I have missed you! No, we need to tie things up with Grib. The main thing is that he doesn't rush to the thieves in the heat of the moment. Otherwise, serious showdowns will begin - then we can definitely say goodbye to the money."
After briefly glancing at the CCTV camera screen, she went to open the door for Gleb herself.
Shpilevoy, 27.10.2016 21:11
Shpilevoy
Tibetan sages claim that cooled boiling water that has stood for 24 hours turns into poison.
Never change your first thoughtful decision. A secondary, seemingly deeper analysis is always a "second freshness".
Shpilevoy, 27.10.2016 21:09
Shpilevoy
Arriving at the hall, Karytin was happy. There were far fewer people during the day and the air in the establishment was fresher. Having changed five dollars, he settled down at the five-cent machine and began to play on the third line. Around the tenth spin, three jokers fell out. The maximum. The machine began to buzz and blink discontentedly. Vitka looked at the shield. The winnings amounted to two thousand five hundred coins. That is, one hundred twenty-five bucks.
“Not a bad start,” Rozov’s voice was heard behind him. “You hooked him cleverly…”
A smiling croupier hurried towards them. Having congratulated Victor, he handed him one hundred and twenty-five dollars in cash and quieted the slot machine, which was squealing with frustration.
Karytin looked dumbly at the money. Then at Dima.
- Well, yes. I don't have to play today. But there's nothing much to do in this almshouse. What are you doing, playing cards as usual?
Dima nodded and dragged himself resignedly to the blackjack tables. Victor, having thrown a couple of coins into the empty machine to clear his conscience, called over the waitress and ordered a double whiskey, not forgetting to put a buck in her pocket.
Sipping cheap whiskey, he reluctantly walked around the poker tables. Then he looked at the roulette. But by local standards it was still too early for a real game, and the tables were empty. It was boring to place bets alone. After wandering around the room, Karytin went to a dollar slot machine that stood apart from everyone else, and in two minutes he lost forty bucks.
"What a bastard!" Vitek took offense and ordered another whiskey. Having waited for the drink, he made another circle around the room with the glass and returned to the one-armed bandit who had offended him. Having looked at him ominously at the scoreboard, Karytin threw a dollar into the slot:
- Here, you bastard, choke on it!
The machine cheerfully crunched the coin and continued to calmly wink at Vitka with colored lights. Then Karytin, in some strange frenzy, began to feed the machine with the twenty-dollar bills he had won.
- Eat! Eat, you foreign bastard, my unearned income! - he kept saying, inserting twenty bills into the slot for banknotes and pulling the handle with force. On the sixth bill, something crunched inside the machine. And the machine, as if offended, spat out onto the screen the already familiar combination of three jokers in blue caps and with angry faces. Ding-hark!!
And then the siren on the roof of the one-armed man began to howl quite alarmingly. The machine gun went into a fever.
Some lights on the running line attached above the ill-fated gaming machine started blinking. Vitek was seriously scared. "I think I broke it. Oh my! There's going to be a stench now!"
They were already walking towards him. Not walking, but running, three croupiers! Some other people in uniform were hurrying towards the confused and frightened Karytin. Rozov, throwing down his cards, was rushing to the rescue from the other end of the hall. And all the players, those who were in the casino, jumped up from their seats and rushed towards the enraged slot machine, next to which, his mouth open in horror, stood the dumbfounded Vitka.
“I didn’t mean to,” was all he could whisper to the tall croupier when he started babbling something right in his ear.
Dima, hurrying to help, pushed his way with difficulty through the crowd that had grown around Karytin in two minutes. He listened attentively to the croupier and slapped Vitka on the back of the head:
- Well done, dude! A-a handsome man - nothing to say! Congratulations, you fucking freak!
Why the hell did you just rip off the worst mafia bosses in Las Vegas for... - Dima looked at the frozen numbers on the electronic scoreboard and yelled right in his stunned friend's face, - sixty-seven million dollars?!!!
And then it dawned on Vitka. His temples began to pound, and the room swam a little before his eyes. And he began to curse in a hoarse roar, so much so that the people around him jumped back a little:
- Holy shit!! It's Jackpot! Sweaty Jack! Fucking hell! We made these aliens! Dimon!! Bro!..
And the friends, hugging each other, awkwardly circled around the slot machine.
Everyone around was applauding, shouting something encouraging. But for some reason the happiest seemed to be the croupier and the security. Four security guards, smiling, formed a tight ring around Rozov and Karytin. Dima asked the senior croupier something in English, and he invited them to go into his office.
Vitka remembered the rest poorly. He signed some papers. Someone brought him a glass of champagne. Vitka drank it automatically. Rozov ran to the room for documents and spent a long time filling out some data in numerous forms. All this nonsense took about an hour. In the end, they were given a plastic check for the entire amount of the winnings, and a whole package of documents. Everything was like a dream.
Shpilevoy, 27.10.2016 21:05
Shpilevoy
The friends, tired of the crowd, looked into the MGM casino. The building was constructed on a grand scale. Some show had begun inside, but it was impossible to get in. The crowd, sensing something free, formed a tight ring around the stage.
- Why are they so eager to get there? - Vitek nudged Rozov's elbow. - In any decent pub we have women dancing! Dima shrugged and pointed upward.
- Look, Korito, these are real animals!
Having skeptically examined the sleepy live lions that were located on the glass roof right above the gaming tables, Vitka and Rozov made a couple of bets and won thirty bucks. They also stocked up on free decks of cards, handed out by a pimply, powdered girl with a deep neckline that demonstrated a complete lack of mammary glands. Then they moved on. From time to time they went into a casino and bet on the middle field or on black. Mostly, they won.
Coming out of another establishment, Dima noticed:
- You see, man - it's basically the same thing here. Only in some halls it's cleaner, and there's more advertising, like those poor dead lions. And in others it's just a show-off without any extra panache. Maybe we should go closer to the wine?
- Wait - take a photo of me by that little fountain with lights and music - and we'll take off!
Having walked the entire central street, the tired friends wanted two things more than anything else in the world - a glass of normal booze and a good night's sleep in a cool room. So when they got to their native "Broadbridge", they immediately, without going into the halls, went upstairs.
Having had a drink before going to bed, Dima made a calculation:
- Almost ninety dollars per brother per evening. Karytin added:
- Plus eight decks of ball cards. Twelve pens. And three lighters. These are for me as souvenirs.
And the guys went to bed with a clear conscience.
Shpilevoy, 27.10.2016 21:04
Shpilevoy
The elevator stank terribly. There was a huge ashtray full of cigarette butts and Vitka lit up to get rid of the smell. Dima, who had never smoked in his life, winced:
- Come on, come on! You smoke here some more and I'll die before I get to the roulette! By the way, how much do you intend to lose in this thieves' den?
- Two hundred and fifty dollars. That's all I have.
- Right. Then I'll also be counting on about that amount. Even though I have some, - he added meaningfully.
Vitek put out his cigarette and patted his friend on the shoulder:
- Don't be afraid - we won't lose it! Remember how we smashed a casino in St. Petersburg for four hundred bucks? And here we'll jerk off the bourgeoisie for a couple of hundred Baku ones!
“You’ll jerk them off, of course…” Dimon grumbled, and the elevator doors opened.
The gaming room was full of people. Karytin didn't like it right away: it was noisy and somehow untidy. You couldn't get to the roulette tables. The waitresses serving drinks were scary and fussy. However, he was glad that there were slot machines in the room with a bet of five cents.
“So I can play in them for two whole days,” he smiled. “And what about booze here?”
Dima, taking his wallet out of his pocket, said:
— Actually, it's free. But I warn you — if you don't give the waitress a buck, next time she'll spit in your glass. Or pee — that's the usual thing. And the booze here is the worst and cheapest. So in that regard, not so much... Okay — I'm off to the blackjack! If anything, you and I don't know each other. Just kidding. Bye!
And he went to the card tables.
"Where should I start?" thought Vitek. "Perhaps with roulette." He watched the ball for about five minutes. The stakes were low. The maximum was twenty dollars on odd-even. You could bet from a dollar to five dollars on numbers. A bit boring. When he and Dima were flying from Boston to Los Angeles at the beginning of their trip, Vitek reread Dostoevsky's "The Gambler." And for fun, he copied down all the bets that the lucky hero of the novel made on his lucky night. "Let's look mysticism in the eye...," thought Vitek and made his first move. On a number row from nineteen to thirty-six. Twenty dollars.
True, that guy had some kind of “Friedrichsdor,” a thought flashed through Karytin’s mind.
The ball spun and the number eleven came up. Victor lost. He cursed silently, and then, spitting on the mysticism, threw the sheet of paper with the notes into the ashtray.
"Yeah... It's not for nothing that Fyodor Mikhailovich lived in debt all his life," thought Victor. "In his novels you can only learn to lose." And he began to bet without any system. Mainly on columns, and a couple of chips on numbers or zero. Having suffered like this for about an hour, he still won about sixty dollars.
Giving a dollar chip to the waitress, he ordered himself a red wine. Having received his order, Victor stood up and went to the other end of the room to see how his friend was doing.
- Well, how is it?
Dima, without turning around, answered:
- So-so. I got about fifty kopecks from that asshole, - he smiled politely at the narrow-eyed croupier, who was skillfully dealing the cards. - And you?
- Yeah, I'm also weak for now, but in the pluses. You, you know... don't drink the wine here - it's crap.
- I've already had a drink. I almost threw up. Well, shall we go hang out in this vile little town? Take some photos and stuff...
They came out onto Las Vegas Boulevard, which was colloquially called the Strip. Indeed, it was impossible to push through the people handing out calendars with the phone numbers of naked girls.
After five minutes, Vitek got tired of waving away the scatterings of cheap porn products that were extended to him.
- Damn. It's like in the sea, when there are a lot of jellyfish... Where did so many of them accumulate here?
- They live here... Fuck them. Let's take pictures!
The friends took pictures as they walked through the glittering lights of Las Vegas at night.
Shpilevoy, 27.10.2016 20:59
Shpilevoy
Vitka, getting up from the table with his mouth full, mumbled, finishing chewing:
- So, shall we go and take off the shoes of the local mafia guys?
But Dimon was strict and unforgiving:
— We'll always have time to fuck our granddaddy. First we need to buy some wine — to wash away this shit that they fed us here for only seven bucks a snout.
The friends, mercilessly picking their teeth, went in search of alcohol.
The main street of the most famous gaming city in the world greeted them with thirty-five-degree heat, a crowd of people and dust. Music was playing on all sides, lights were shining, and there were people, people, people everywhere. And although it was already approaching eight in the evening, the stuffiness did not let go of the city, squeezing it in the stone vice of the surrounding desert.
The liquor store was on the other side of Las Vegas Boulevard. After searching for a way across the street filled with cars for about half an hour, the men gave up on the matter and made their way to the treasured doors in short dashes.
After a short search, Dima found on the far shelf, their favorite on the road, red Californian wine. Since no one wanted to run across the wide street with the nightmarish flow of cars for the second time, the friends decided to take three one and a half liter bottles.
- Oh, fuck! - Dimon said loudly, for the whole store to hear, looking at the price tag. - A whole two dollars more expensive than in Angeles! - He looked indignantly at Karytin, who was barely holding back his laughter. - Aren't they faggots?
It is worth noting that Dima Rozov was born and raised in the glorious city of Sevastopol. His grandfather was a high-ranking officer in the Black Sea Navy. His father had a PhD and wrote several solid scientific papers in the field of studying the bottom relief of the Black Sea. Dmitry's mother worked as the chief administrator of a prestigious hotel.
It would have been possible to list many more of his close and distant relatives. But this would not have helped a researcher of Rozov's genealogy, if there had been one, to find among his relatives, for example, the thugs from Odessa Privoz. Nor were there such lovers of salty language as the boatswains from a Norwegian whaling ship listed in the tangled branches of Dima's family tree. Thus, his passion for Russian obscenities was completely inexplicable. But no one was going to conduct any research on this matter now. At least, none of those present.
Having accepted the bottle of wine from Rozov’s hands, Victor indignantly shook his fist in the direction of the cash register and exclaimed:
— Shaggy-faced misers, profiting off of hard workers! It's not enough for them to make money in their stinking casinos, now they're ripping people off with booze!
And the two hard workers, bitterly complaining about the high prices, headed to their room with a heavy bag. Having reached the coveted coolness, the friends immediately poured themselves a glass of vinidl.
- Well? To our victory over the local bigwigs of the gaming business! - proclaimed Vitka.
- Fuck them all, right down to the apricots! - finished Dimon - and drank a full glass in one gulp.
After pouring another round, Rozov lay down on the bed and asked:
- Listen, Korito... What happened at American customs? I waited for you for two whole hours, after the last passenger of your plane had crawled out.
"It's a long story," Vitek waved it off. He looked out the window at the stunning light advertisements and quietly blew cigarette smoke out the window.
- Then we'll have time to play some more. Tell me more... And anyway - how did you get here? We've been hanging around America for almost a month - and just when you're about to report on the flight, we fall asleep.
- Okay, - Vitka deftly tipped the contents of the glass into his mouth, - pour us another half! It all started back in Kyiv…
Shpilevoy, 27.10.2016 20:58
Shpilevoy
Rozov turned his head with his right hand towards the big city emerging from the air trembling from the heat.
- And there's Las Vegas! Look ahead, you idiot!
Karytin looked.
Far ahead, in the whitish haze, the spire of Las Vegas, with a knob on the end, familiar from Hollywood films, loomed.
- Dimasty, what the hell is that sticking out? Is that their airport?
- Oh, the village... This is the most delicious hotel. But we will live in a slightly more modest one. Although all of them, which are in the center, are tricked out to the point of ugliness.
They drove slowly into the city. Dima often leaned over the car navigator so as not to miss the necessary turn. Vitka looked around with all his eyes. Although there was nothing much to look at yet. The suburbs of Las Vegas were completely ordinary. Such outskirts often surrounded small American cities, which Victor had seen enough of during his long car ride through the southern part of America. Some endless warehouses on the edge of railroad tracks. Condominiums, gray from dust... True, the outdoor advertising called, pulled, forced to immediately turn into this or that hot spot - and place your bets!
"We have a buffet for seven dollars 24 hours a day!", "Every evening we raffle off a sports car!", "Don't miss your chance!" - the signs screamed. And it was terribly hot, damn... Stuffy...
- Look! Buffets are already five bucks! Dimych!
- Yes... Everything is getting cheaper before our eyes.
Karytin continued to turn his head:
— And don't they feed you for free?
- Only a sucker would take it for free, - Rozov chuckled. - What freebie? Have you ever seen a freebie in America?
Vitek thought about it seriously. Then he pulled a blue baseball cap with the number "five hundred and five" embroidered on it onto his head and answered:
— I saw it. Free bags in supermarkets. And remember when we stopped by the Budweiser brewery? They gave us two glasses of beer for free. And pretzels were free, too…
- So the bags are probably included in the cost of the products. And you saw this stinking beer yourself - half of America goes there to drink. And some of them several times, - Dima checked the navigator again - Aha, here is the main street. This is our hotel.
They passed a huge fountain, behind which was the majestic building of the Mirage Hotel. Thanks to the American films he had watched, Victor seemed to have found himself in familiar places. The small Eiffel Tower and the copy of the Egyptian pyramid - everything was somehow familiar, like the scenery of an old cartoon.
Dima carefully parked the car near the entrance to the Broadbridge Hotel. Having given the car keys to the valet, the friends headed to the lobby. There was a refreshing coolness there.
Having perked up with a few choice curse words about the heat outside, the cheerful couple approached the reception desk.
“Does our room at least have air conditioning?” Karytin asked in an anxious whisper.
Dima, without turning around, hissed:
- No, fuck - with the heater! Quiet - don't fuss. We'll figure it out now...
Having quickly filled out simple guest cards, the guys headed to their room.
- Wow! They smoke in the elevators here too! - Victor was surprised, knowing how difficult it is to stop smoking in America.
“They shit and piss,” Dimon added in his favorite manner.
The room was really simple. The TV, as it turned out, had no remote control. Apparently, someone had printed it as a souvenir. There was a small refrigerator and two semi-double beds. But the main thing was that the room was cool.
The friends began to unpack their things.
It was already getting dark outside when, after a short nap, it was time to go out into the world. The famous lights of the endless advertisements of Las Vegas casinos shimmered enticingly outside the window.
- Well? When shall we start? - asked Karytin, rubbing his hands contentedly.
Dimych, yawning, looked at the price list with a dissatisfied look. Having made sure that calls from the room would cost them a pretty penny, he turned and looked up at his friend:
— You were hungry, weren't you? Or did you see the one-armed bandits downstairs and forget everything? No, let's check out the buffet here first. It wouldn't hurt to wash up, though...
And, having quickly rinsed off, the friends went in search of food.
Shpilevoy, 27.10.2016 20:57
Shpilevoy
The landscape around was classic Hollywood. Heat and haze enveloped the endless Arizona desert. Cacti of various sizes and shapes, like fairytale sentries, stood guard over the scorching highway, running away under the wheels like a wide gray snake with bright yellow markings in the middle. The road was quite deserted. Occasionally, the two strange travelers came across huge auto trailers, painted in bright advertising colors. Washed and polished beyond belief, they blinded the eyes with their nickel-plated tanks and huge mirrors.
Vitka Karytin nevertheless turned down the volume slightly. Turning his head around, he reported:
- Listen, Dimych... And I thought they were lying in American movies. That there are no cars in the desert. But here it really is, practically, a void.
- What the hell are they doing here? - Dima responded. - That's what a desert is for...
The trough stretched with a crunch and asked:
- I'm taking a nap, dude. Be a friend - don't play the music too loud! And raise the roof - the wind is getting on my nerves!
Having settled himself more comfortably, he closed his eyes. Rozov, having pressed a button, raised the folding roof and it immediately became dark in the car. Lulled by the quiet rustle of the tires, Vitka thought sweetly and lazily:
"It's mind-blowing - Dimas and I are heading to Las Vegas! Across the desert. But it's strange - it doesn't really get me going... It's not that I can't believe it - it's just that everything is as if it should be...
I guess I’ve gotten used to life already…”
Shpilevoy, 27.10.2016 20:51
Shpilevoy
Afanasyeva had been a gambler all her life. But not a card player or a money changer. She was a top-notch swindler. True, after the naive girl Lida served time in 1959 for her first scam with counterfeit train tickets, she carried out each of her new scams herself from start to finish.
Paying off random assistants after they had performed this or that role, Lida preferred to collect nectar only for her hive at the end of the process. This innocent habit provided her with a second stint in prison, this time for a more serious article - currency fraud.
Then the girl Lida grew up by five years, and firmly decided not to visit places of detention anymore. As before, her brain perfectly tracked holes in people's psychology, from where it was possible to quietly but surely extract so-called "unearned income". But now everything was always done by other people's hands.
She always had two permanent assistants who directly supervised various operations. A scheme was developed. People were hired through assistants.
Sometimes they are actors from provincial theatres, and sometimes they are just homeless people.
For example, it was Lidiya Petrovna Afanasyeva, and no one else, who came up with the idea of psychological pressure on businessmen who refused to pay tribute to the capital’s bandits.
To solve the problem, the dirty tramp from the station was brought to a respectable appearance in the best hairdresser. Then he was dressed in the highest class, then together with the obstinate dealer who did not want to pay tribute, he was taken to the forest. And there, before the eyes of the nouveau riche, mad with fear, the tramp, in whom the debtor saw his fellow in misfortune, had some limb cut off with a chainsaw. Some of the more "frostbitten" bandits, for greater effect, preferred to chop off the head of the fake tramp. Having seen this, a real businessman was ready to meekly pay his "protector" for the rest of his days.
There were many different productions during the years of perestroika. Some of the tricks invented by Lida later became classics in the world of scammers. But she followed one rule firmly - if the matter is serious, do nothing with your own hands. Do not even dial a phone number.
If you bet on red in a casino and you're stubbornly unlucky, try betting on red!