Auto-translated
It doesn't seem like a rehash. Well, it made me smile :D.
I once fell into a manhole. Not on my own, but with my car. I remember it clearly. It was spring. The weather was awful. So, I decided to stop at a covered gas station. The line at the gas station was moving bumper to bumper, slowly and sadly. And that's why I didn't notice the open manhole that the car in front of me had left to the right. I smoothly drove the right wheel into the manhole and heard:
- Boom!
This boom woke me up from my doze, and I focused on trying to remember the layout of the gas station and what I had driven into. I didn't know yet that I and the manhole were destined to be together for a long time, but this Boom gave me sad thoughts.
The thoughts would have become even sadder if I had known what was ahead. But I didn't know yet, and, dismissing the melancholy, I got out of the car to look and determine the source of the boom. The line at the gas station smoothly flowed around me, and I, feeling an increasing sense of foreboding, walked towards the right front wheel.
- Well, what the heck! - I saw the manhole and the wheel in it. Nearby were some ropes, a couple of tool belts, and... something else that I didn't have time to examine.
- Because from under the wheel, from the dark depths of the well, a pair of eyes looked at me and, in a hoarse voice, asked:
- Well, what the "heck" is going on here? Jumping back in surprise and "bumping" into someone's bumper, I found the courage to ask:
- And who are you? From the tirade that came from the depths of the earth, it followed that I, a person with a non-traditional orientation and poor eyesight, which I acquired from constant blows to the head with a male primary sexual organ, had ropes laid out specifically for people like me. Everyone else remained human, why did I become a male turtle in an interesting position, and now, having entered into an intimate relationship with the wheel, the speaker was left without lunch.
- Hmm, - I squatted down near the hole and lit a cigarette. I was thinking about how to lift the car without damage and whether anything had broken. Lost in thought, I finished my cigarette and threw it into the well. At that moment, a roar came from under the ground, which made the pistol and the driver of the Lada jump, and the orange top of the helmet began to rise rapidly up the ladder.
- Excuse me, - I apologized to the helmet. In response, I heard new details about the hygiene of my mouth, as well as the intimate relationship between a plumber and a cigarette butt. Then came the prospects of the cigarette butt's location on my body.
After the epic opus, the plumber disappeared into the darkness of the underground, and I, angered, kicked the wheel with my foot. I just kicked it. Well, I kicked it, that's all! Well, who knew that a small pebble was held in the tread with glue?!
From the impact, it flew out and merrily flew down. I froze. Together with me, in anticipation of the terrible, Moscow froze. It seemed that everything living had frozen. In this silence of stopped time, the pebble joyfully, increasing its speed, flew towards its intended target. Probably a lot of time passed, and I heard a dull thud. The helmet happily accepted its friend-stone.
- Yeeeeponamath!!
A terrible cry tore through the darkness of the underground and, rushing into the side passages, flew in different directions.
- WHATZOIOOPANAROOO!!! - a new roar reached the Kremlin in a second and made Minin and Pozharsky clench their teeth. The birds flew in different directions.
Below, a helmet convulsively climbed up the ladder, the owner of which clearly intended to have a friendly chat with me. He was angry. So he flew up the ladder, like Romeo to his beloved Juliet. But either he forgot the reason why he got stuck here, or he just didn't have time to reduce his speed, but flying up, he slammed the top of his head into the wheel.
- Ouch! - the man grunted, and the helmet, leaving the highly intellectual head, beautifully tumbled into the darkness. I even heard the helmet cutting through the air as it fell. The deafening roar from below showed me that the plumbers work in pairs. I am a polite person, so I asked:
- Are you okay? My question remained unanswered. The second plumber entered into an intimate relationship with the first, promising to send the first for medical examination with serious injuries as a result of the same act. The first did not remain in debt, but in the end, he clearly explained who was to blame. My mouth went dry, and I took a bottle of water from the side door. The first plumber finished and coughed, it was clearly difficult for him to give speeches with a head injury.
- Would you like a drink? - and I handed the plumber, rubbing his bruised head, an open bottle of mineral water. Well, naturally, with the neck down.
- Shooozahuu//nyaaaaaa! - his timbre would be envied by Tarzan, and King Kong would drown himself. At the same time, the plumber dropped a wrench.
- _____ my bad wings! Fedya, wrench! - the plumber accompanied the explanations of the peaceful flight of the wrench.
- _____ this was the result of the wrench landing. What followed after the wrench hit cannot be expressed in words. The entire vocabulary could put half of the girls with weak minds in bed for a week and argue with the bosun's lexicon. Such a surge of anger could easily stop a typhoon and sink the Kennedy aircraft carrier with a full combat load.
- Hmm! A pair of enraged plumbers is a terrible, and not only physical, force. This is also an outburst of unprecedented intelligence, ingenuity, and agility. Having barked at his partner downstairs that there was another exit to the surface, the curly-haired man without a helmet rushed down the ladder so quickly that military sailors, recognized conquerors of ladders, simply sniffed their noses, looking at this circus performer. All this was observed by four guys who were standing in the next lane and were probably eagerly waiting for the end. - Well, buddy, change your clothes?
- They'll tear you apart so much that no surgeon will be able to sew you back together!
- Yeah! These wolfhounds and an armored train will break through, damn it, without any effort. - one of them joked. Everyone laughed.
I jumped behind the wheel and, with a screech, rushed back. Fortunately, the line had already cleared the way for me. I was almost out when I saw out of the corner of my eye that some speedster, deciding to bypass the entire line and get to the pump first, didn't notice the trap and ______ right into the manhole. He jumped out of the car and, shouting obscenities, began to throw ropes into the manhole. Twenty meters from the gas station, a manhole cover rose, releasing two plumbers.
These were not people. These were two torpedoes, bluntly aimed at carrying out their mission. They were approaching, and the driver-poor fellow, who didn't yet know about his fate, walked past their orientation and mental abilities. The faces of the plumbers turned to stone, and their fists clenched even tighter around the impressive set of plumbing tools. The guys choked with laughter, and muffled grunts were heard from their jeep. The driver was getting more and more agitated. I tried as much as I could to increase the distance. - Is that you? - I barely managed to squeeze out to the driver, covered in shit and piss.
- _____ you're poking! You opened your damn holes, so at least you should have marked them. All right, guys, you're going to fix the car. Even if you sell your helmets and wrenches, it will be enough. You yellow-vested bastards!
The second plumber, listening to this tirade, was boiling. Then, without saying a word, he walked up to the car and began to bring it to the state of scrap metal with a wrench. The first joined him. The driver was generally in a state of prostration. Everything stopped at the gas station. When they were finished, it was impossible to determine not only the make of the car, but also the color.
- That's it! I'm going to work in a library. There are no manholes there, - said the second, and, taking off his vest, went somewhere...