Don't ask

Once, when I was serving in the army, an ensign who was suffering from a hangover asked to borrow some money for his “recovery of health.” Anyone who has served knows what uniform warrant officers usually “ask” conscripts for. I had to empty my pockets and give him a bubble. Of course, I thought to myself: “I hope you die.” And so it happened. The ensign ran for a bottle, locked himself in his private room and “corrected” hishealth to such an extent that the next morning he was found dead. I didn’t think about what happened then - the “lieutenant general” died, that’s where he belongs, no one has ever felt warm feelings for warrant officers. But after demobilization, the situation repeated itself several times, and this seriously began to worry me.

In my yard there was plenty of all sorts of shantrap, which was always a couple of rubles short of a bottle. I’m not a fan of borrowing, but some light drinkers (who can’t get enough) will get so attached that they can’t get out of it. The first wasnext door neighbor , Valera. A normal hard-working guy, but from time to time he went into binges. In this state, the meaning of life for him narrowed to the size of a bottleneck. I often watched with a laugh test-antibiotic.com how he clung to everyone in the yard in order to shoot at the bottle. Many gave because it was perhaps the only way to get rid of it. One day he clung to me. I gave him money for a bottle without any problems, since I knew that after coming out of his drinking bout, he honestly repaid all his debts. But, alas, not for me. The next day, returning from work and entering the entrance, the first thing I saw was the lid of the coffin near Valera’s door. He died at night from a stroke.

A few months later, another neighbor from our house, Oleg, asked me for a bottle. This one was not a clinical drunk. I just drank sometimes. Since Oleg was a welder at the housing office, and the plumbing of our area, which was entirely built up with Khrushchev-era buildings, left much to be desired, he had plenty of work, which means they gave him regular work. I don’t know why, but when he met me in the yard, he asked for a bottle, it seemed like he didn’t want to run home for money, and some kind of feast was already going on in the Housing Office workshop. Of course, I borrowed it - he is a welder, after all, his services test-antibiotic.com may be needed. But at the same time the thought flashed through my mind that I was seeing him for the last time. And so it happened. The next day, approaching the house after work and seeing crying neighbors and men unloading a coffin from the back of a Gazelle, I already knew who it was intended for. Oleg followed Valera.

And then I carried out an inhumane experiment - I lent it to another drunk neighbor for a bottle. He was constantly nagging everyone, including me, but I always sent him in a certain direction. Without any pity for this unfortunate man, as if conducting research on a laboratory rat, I gave him a bottle. Returning from work the next day, I had little doubt what I would see in the yard. And so it was. Bustle and preparation for the funeral. The day before, a drunken neighbor , falling, ran into a rebar sticking out of a pile of construction waste in the yard, like a butterfly on a stiletto heel.

Well, now I have a powerful weapon in my hands: I know how to save anyone from drunkenness. I’m just afraid that there will be no one to live in it, test-antibiotic.com unless the Chinese come.