And Here All Has Converged, As It Is

And here all has converged, as it is impossible is worse: with a loud roar has come running to me on kitchen to complain: "And that it forces me? The hand is ill me, I cannot get on a ladder! And it me as the slave unfortunate torments!" And a roar in all throat, with the present bitter tears. There was it just on the eve of "event", better to say, mine leakings. In general long since knowing behind itself the raised sensitivity these days, I tried to hold in a fist. But here, after a recent shake-up-meeting with the two-metre Sashej-racketeer, after Nikolay's "visit", which in semimeter from me a knife in blood the body (and could spread instantly on sparkling sharpening and me, and could strike in a back and Egor when that passed by it), after all it and before approached monthly I have broken. Also has broken ugly! I have begun to wipe the wet person of the boy an apron: - do not shout! Anybody does not force you. What the hand is ill you? - This, is not present this, both are ill! Having appeared on a kitchen threshold, Egor derisively use mounted: it is good that at us only two hands, and that would be ill all four.