Crazy Detective. Funny detective. StaVl Zosimov Premudroslovsky

about to grow up, he all the same agreed. Moreover, no one sees.

      – Ok, I agree.

      – Okay. the sergeant rejoiced and led Klop to the toilet. – a rag, powder there, under the sink. And for the technicals I get. The crisis, hahaha.

      – And where is the bucket and toilet paper?

      – Rinse the rag in the sink, and wipe your ass with your finger. – the sergeant was mistaken.

      – Like this? – surprised Klop.

      – How do you learn, I basically have sandpaper, I can offer, and with plain paper we have a lot of stress. The crisis in the country. Moreover, we are state employees.

      Ottila made sour on his face and, taking the proposed paper, climbed onto the toilet. There was a loud drizzle, Pent turned and went outside, closing the post. And Ottila relaxed, looked between his legs and wrinkled his face. Not only did the stink of sour eyes hurt, but all the trousers from the outside were riddled with a small, nasty in color, smelly drysnyak. There was no question of the toilet. Even drops of diarrhea flickered on the wall.

      Incephalopath stood at the column and, seeing the sergeant who had left the post, quickly ran to him.

      – Hello! apchi, “he flattered.

      – What, are you waiting for a grandson? Penth asked sarcastically.

      – What grandson? Apchi, – stupid Arutun Karapetovich.

      – What are you building grimaces for me here? Or is he your accomplice? What are you planning, guest workers?

      – Who? Apchi, “Harutun was frightened.

      – What are you building a fool? Your friendship is wanted federal. Are you with him

      – BUT? apchi, – shook his cheeks with an Incephalopath. – no. I don’t know him at all. The first time I see.

      – Why are you boiling for him then? Stab, uncle. – Suddenly the sergeant barked. Harutun drew back. – He harnessed for you, as for your own, and you?

      – Ah, apchi, I know him, but it’s very bad, and only thanks to his wife.

      – What? – Pent smiled.

      – I am sleeping with his wife! – confirmed Harutun. The sergeant grinned and went to shoot documents for beer.

      – And when will it be released? – echoed into the lobby.

      – How the toilet is home and the answer will come. So for three days I have the right to fuck him.

      – Can I help him? – suggested Harutun to the whole lobby.

      – Wash the toilet?

      – Yes, to be released faster.

      – No, not supposed to.

      Harutun sadly lowered his head: Mdaa… he got there and there is no money and Klop was lowered.

      – Do you have money? – someone whispered straight into the auricle to corporal. He shuddered with his whole body and turned around. Behind him stood a fat ensign in a police uniform and was chewing a hard burger.

      – Nnnet.

      – Why? Om yum yum.

      – And money, apchi, – Harutun got confused in thoughts and, stretching out his index finger, searching for pupils, he pointed to the door of the police post. – And the money from my, apchi, chef, there, in the monkeyclip from Klop.

      – What a bug? Is that a nickname?

      – No, his last name, apchi, he was detained until his identity was ascertained.

      – Ahhh! Om yum yum., So let’s go, take the money from him, as if to yourself, and give it to me.

      – Ahhh. He has, apchi, a card.

      – Sorry. – And the policeman retired into the depths of the forecourt.

      A week later, Bedbug was released from the 78th police station. This was the fifth branch in a row, starting with the station cops and everywhere he washed toilets. No one before him agreed to this. And he had to wash off the annual dirt.

      Harutun was tired of waiting for him at the station for a week, it was good summer. He contacted the local gopot and the homeless. His clothes turned into a floor rag. His swollen face from the “ice” – a cleaning agent for ethanol glasses drunk by the homeless and the like – turned red like a chimpanzee’s ass.

      His eyes were filled with tears, not only from grief, but also from a terrible hangover. He was sitting in the passage of the Moscow metro station. His hat was upside down and lay on the floor. One could see a dime in it: one, five, and ten coins. He sat on his knees and sobbed slightly. Fingals hardly missed tears.

      – Harutun? Ottila called out, “what is the matter with you?”

      – BUT? Apchi, – the corporal raised his eyes slowly.

      – Get up, are you sitting here? – The bug came up and raised his hat.

      – Do not touch, apchi. – Harutun yelled hysterically and grabbed his hat. Some little thing jumped out onto the marble floor and rang. The ringing was heard by homeless people standing nearby. They looked decent and younger.

      – Hey kid, well, get off the wretch. – shouted one of them

      – Do not bother him to earn bread, schmuck. – scared the second.

      – Vali, Vali. – supported the third, – while alive.

      – Are you telling me young people? – the local detective General Klop opened his eyes in surprise.

      – ABOUT? Yes, this is not a kid at all.

      – Is it a dwarf?!

      – Yes, and the Negro. Heh. – And they began to approach the Bedbug.

      “A cartridge,” Harutun whimpered, kneeling. – run away, boss. I will delay them. All the same, they already beat me and made me beg.

      – Not ssy, I will explain to them in Sarakabalatanayaksoyodbski that you can not offend the elderly. Ottila answered confidently and rolled up his sleeves.

      – Oh, Zyoma, he decided to run into us, – for the bastard, the healthiest of them and the bald one.

      – Gray, drag it to the bucket. – supported thin and in tattoos, pointing to the urn.

      – I say right away, calm down young people, I warn you the last time. – kindly asked Klop, looking into the eyes of a healthy. He took it with his huge brush by the collar and, lifting it, brought it to his eyes. He smiled ehidno and sharply gasped his breath. He opened his eyes, as if with constipation and enlarged his mouth, as if he wanted to put Ilyich’s bulb in his mouth. The goon let go of the brush and bent over, grabbed his groin with both hands.

      – Ahhhhh!!!! – drowned everyone around.

      Ottila landed on his feet and, crouching, inflicted a second blow on the balls, but with his fist.

      He pounded the shot with his fists for a minute, so fast that it was difficult to distinguish between his hands and, in the end, hit the heel in the Adam’s apple with a heel jump. The redneck slowly fell forward and fell on the marble floor with his forehead, crushing everything sticking out to himself. Ottila bounced to one side, missing the fall. His homies are blown away by the wind. And in general, the transition was cleared of all kinds of freeloaders – drunks.

      Ancephalopath stood up, leaning on the chef’s shoulder.

      – Thank you, apchi, patron. I thought, apchi, I’ll die here.

      – How did you get to this? They closed me for a week? And you have already sunk so.

      “And