Pornographer V.S. a road accident

[Pierro]

It smells like tobacco, garlic, a man (V. Nabokov), a shithead, a pussy, an asshole (V. Sorokin).

But no, children. It doesn’t smell like anything anymore. As I said in the last lesson, sulfur oxide has no odor.

H2S+O2=H2O+S2O

Nina Nikolaevna put down the chalk and turned to the class :

- Soloviev, to the board.

Sergei stood up, sighed and walked with an uncertain, timid gait. Nina Nikolaevna wiped her chalk-stained fingers with a handkerchief:

- Write for us the reaction for producing hydrogen sulfide.

Soloviev approached the board.

The class fell silent, looking at the newcomer with interest.

Sergei took the chalk and stared at the equation that Nina Nikolaevna had just written.

Some There was complete silence in the class.

- Were you at the last lesson? - asked Nina Nikolaevna, putting away the scarf and looking at Solovyov’s rapidly reddening ears.

- “I was,” he answered quietly, licking his dry lips.

- Do you remember what I told you?

He nodded.

- Then first list what reagents you can use to get hydrogen sulfide.
n
Soloviev was silent, without taking his eyes off the board.

After waiting a couple more minutes, she walked between the rows, habitually hugging her elbows.

- Okay. Let’s go from the opposite. Tell me, Soloviev, can hydrogen sulfide be isolated from sulfuric acid?

- “It’s possible,” he answered quickly, without turning around.

- And if sulfur ? - she stopped near his desk, took the open notebook, flipped through the page.

- “It’s possible... that is... it’s impossible,” Soloviev muttered.

She looked at him over her glasses, sighed, and put down her notebook.

The bell rang.

The class stirred with relief.

Nina Nikolaevna quickly walked up to her green table, sat down, and bent over the open magazine.

- Deuce, Solovyov. You have everything written down in your notebook. In black and white... But you don’t remember anything.

He still stood, stupidly looking at the board.

The class became noisy: the students were talking , laughed, rustled notebooks.

-Sit down, - said Nina Nikolaevna, - or not... will you help me carry the tripod.

She knocked hand on the table.

- Silence! Calm down! Write down your homework.

Everyone began to open their diaries.

- Paragraph twelve, thirteen, fourteen. The lesson is over. Goodbye.

Everyone reluctantly climbed out from behind their desks.

“Take a tripod and a spirit lamp,” she told Solovyov, taking the magazine and the box with reagents. - Let’s go, Solovyov.

They went out into the corridor, already full of resting students, walked past the buffet and began to climb to the second floor. Solovyov carried a tripod, trying not to hit anyone with it. A piece of sulfur pyrite was shaking in the test tube.

- Why didn’t you repeat anything? - asked Nina Nikolaevna. - Didn’t find time?

Soloviev shrugged his shoulders as he walked.

- Or maybe desires? - Smiling, she shook her head. Soloviev, Soloviev. He just came to us, and already got a bad mark. Bad...

They went up to the second floor and immediately found themselves near two adjacent doors. On the left was written LABORATORY, on the second - REACTIVE.

Having the magazine under her armpit, Nina Nikolaevna took the key from the pocket of her brown jacket and unlocked the right door:

- Learn everything about hydrogen sulfide for the next lesson. How does it turn out, what properties does it have? If you tell it well, in detail, you will correct the deuce.

She opened the door, stood aside, letting him through:

- Come in, put it on the table over there.

Soloviev obediently walked over and placed the tripod along with the alcohol lamp on the edge of a large table that spanned the entire room, completely filled with tripods, flasks, boxes with tubes and test tubes. In a large metal box, alcohol lamps rested in neat rows.

Yellow cabinets filled with jars, flasks, and bottles with chemical reagents were crowded along the walls. In the corner, near the door, there was a sink with a broken mirror. Water was dripping from the old copper tap.

It smelled of burnt alcohol wicks and chemicals.

Nina Nikolaevna opened the cabinet and put the test tube with reagents on the shelf.

Soloviev looked at the intricate glass tube with two taps.

- Interesting? - she asked, closing the closet.

Soloviev nodded.

- This is Zelinsky’s tube. It is used in hydrolysis. Put it in that box over there.

Soloviev hung up, but Nina Nikolaevna waved her hand absentmindedly, looking intently at her feet:

- Or not ... it’s better not like this...

Her face became detached and serious, her lips were whispering something.

After standing, she turned to the table :

- That’s it. Let’s do so. Help me, Solovyov.

She began to quickly remove drawers and cutlery from the table and put them on the floor.

- Take it off, take it off quickly. .. just don’t beat me...

Soloviev began to help.

The table was long and wide, so while they were dismantling it, the bell rang lesson.

- What do you have now? - asked Nina Nikolaevna, removing a heavy box with alcohol lamps.

- Geometry, - said the out of breath Solovyov.

- Well, nothing. If you’re ten minutes late, you’ll tell Viktor Yegorych that I delayed you.

She bent down, opened a small door in the cabinet at the base of the table, pulled out a rolled up black wire with a plug at the end, unwound it and inserted it into socket.

Then, groping under the table top with her hand, she flicked the switch. There was a buzzing sound, the lid trembled, divided in the middle into two parts, which, like doors, began to open slightly. When they parted, it turned out that the entire long cabinet-box, like the table, was filled to the top with earth.

The earth was crushed and had traces of careful loosening on its surface.

- Here... - Nina Nikolaevna said, carefully looking around the flat brown field, - this is all my husband...

Soloviev also looked at the ground.

Nina Nikolaevna quickly kicked off her shoes, lifted her skirt and stepped over the side.

Her narrow ankle-deep leg sank into the ground. Pulling up her other leg, she placed it next to her, then sat down, lowering her pink panties.

- Pull out that drawer over there, take out the climber... - she muttered quietly, vigorously massaging her cheeks with her palms.

Soloviev pulled out a drawer from the nearest cabinet and took out a climber.

- Put it on my back, number down.

He put the climber on her back with a blue number down.

- “Pull the red flap,” she said still quietly and quickly, and a strong stream of her urine hit the ground with a dull rustle. .

Soloviev pulled back the red flap.

Climber came to life and with a soft sound moved up the back of the urinating Nina Nikolaevna.

She trembled and sobbed.

The top crown of the climber opened, and something sparkled in it. The antennae began to bend towards the center, the dazzling underwings crawled to the sides.

A black smoking trail remained on the back.

- Get out of here... - Nina Nikolaevna muttered, looking ahead with wide open eyes.

Soloviev slowly backed away towards the door.

Climber threw up a prominence of layered pink smoke, his pedal fingers They worked with lightning speed.

The smell of burnt hair.

- Get out of here, you bastard! - Nina Nikolaevna croaked, shaking and crying.

Soloviev opened the door and went out.

[Your hand 1999]

Nothing is clear, but very interesting

[Lisa24]

but it’s really good))
I’m waiting for the product

[Pierro]

It’s always nice to remember childhood. We lived in Bykovo. Country places. Pines. Aerodrome. I remember when I saw it when I was three years old, it was scary and it was difficult to make out what was where - where the sky was, where the duralumin planes were shining in the sun. And everything roared, so that the earth shook. And my father held my hand. We lived in a two-story house with a boiler room below, with an attic above, and in the spring it flowed from the roofs, meter-long icicles hung and the residents, tied with ropes, were throwing off snow. The yard was large, but the other five houses were one-story. They have communal apartments. And there were many children. And a lot of interesting space: a garbage dump in one corner of the yard, roofs, sheds, elderberry, and it propped up the sheds, and in the sheds, "sheds are graves of various rubbish" (I. Kholin). That’s right, there was rubbish and chests, jars and rags, and doors, and locks, padlocks, and then vegetable gardens. Vegetable gardens, divided in a fair, popular way, and everything that could grow grew there - carrots, onions, turnips, radishes, tomatoes, flowers, dahlias, gladioli. And in the summer - a hammock between the pines. The pines were tall and creaked, and the ground was soft with pine needles.

So.

And there was one experience at the age of five or six. There, in the other corner of the yard, there was a hole. Or rather - PIT. For drainage of the yard sewer system. Everyone had water closets; everything was easily washed away with water from the roaring tanks and disappeared under the floor. And there, underground, under all our happy childhood, there were pipes. And they converged on the pit. TO THE PIT. There was a hatch there. And so on Mondays a car arrived, a dirty, dark green dusty car with a tank. And a man in a padded jacket, dirty pants and boots came out of the cabin. I unfastened the large ribbed intestine from the side of the car, that is, it is not even a hose, but a pipe, or a rubber-tarpaulin pipe with a diameter of twenty centimeters. And he opened the hatch. He did not open it, but chipped it off with a crowbar. And it opened, that is, it peeled off with a menacing cast-iron sound. And it was clear that the PIT was filled to the very throat with liquid, a mass of indefinite color. And I, a five-year-old boy in short pants with bibs, a white shirt, and a white Panama hat, sat on his haunches not far from the pit and looked with all his eyes. And the man knew me, smiled as if he were an old friend, put on his mittens and tucked the pipe into the hole. She sank with a whooping, squelching sound, the ribbed folds disappearing one after another. And the car began to roar dully. And the slurry sank down. They kept chasing me away from the pit - they said that there was poop in the pit, that, no matter how disgusting it was for me, it would be better to go play in the sandbox or draw, they scared me with a story about a boy who like this how you sat, sat near the pit, and then They searched and searched for him and found him in a hole. Nevertheless, I did not miss a single visit of the vacuum cleaner. No sight attracted me more at that time: the car roared, the hose squelched, the slurry crawled down, and the smell was terrible and attractive, it was not like any other. And this continued from Monday to Monday. And then I made the same hole for myself at home. I took an aluminum can, filled it with water and threw in garbage, bread, bits of wood, paper and everything else I could. And I kept it for several days until everything soured and there was a smell. And I had a toy truck, also green. I put a bottle of something in his back and put a rubber tube on the neck, and so I moved two stools, one of them had a hole in the seat, and I stuck the can in there and made sure that the neck only protruded slightly from seat, and from another stool, pulled up, the car drove up, opened the can lid with which I covered the can, and lowered the hose. And there was a sour smell. And in the cockpit sat a soldier. And then I, sitting on my haunches, began to growl, roar and hum like a machine. And shook the car slightly. And this went on forever. The car approached and drove away. At that time it was the strongest hobby.
INTERPRETATION: It is well known that in prepubertal age the main erotic experience of a child is associated with the act of defecation, hence the increased interest of children in feces as a reason for their pleasure. Children look at their feces with curiosity and talk about it. And they often try it on the tongue. In this case, the pit-storage pit for sewage excited the child as a place for the accumulation of many organs of pleasure. On the other hand, the stories of relatives about a boy drowning in such a hole aroused in the child a subconscious feeling of fear, which, due to the unclear boundaries of the underground storage facility, took on a total character. Being under the influence of two relic forces - eros and thanatos, the child was faced with a difficult task: to follow the first and get rid of the second. And he dealt with it by building a model of the pit and the car. Endlessly approaching, "pumping out" and driving away, he charmed the pit using the principle of homeopathic magic, on the other hand, squatting next to him and groaning, he simulated the act of defecation, which satisfied his erotic experiences.

(c) V. Sorokin from the book Road Accident, to the delight of perverts)

[The passage]

Nothing is clear, but very interesting

What didn’t you understand? The teacher urinates in front of the student. Our main pedobrests. One wrote, the other is delighted.

Sent after 27 minutes 1 second:

it’s really good))
I’m waiting for the sale

He set you up.

[Serg_A]

Nothing is clear, but very interesting

What didn’t you understand? The teacher urinates in front of the student. Our main pedobrests. One wrote, the other is delighted.

The author has two topics in chemistry, he knows something, but the equation is not correct.

[Lisa24]

He set you up.

really? and for what?
You shouldn’t pull an owl onto a globe and wishful thinking))

[Your hand 1999]

One wrote, the other is delighted.

So the topic already makes sense)

[The passage]

One wrote, the other is delighted.

So the topic already makes sense)

What’s the point? Pedophiles pretend to be pedophiles?

[Your hand 1999]

Pedophiles pretend to be pedophiles?

I will say this: their screams have no effect on anything here at all. Therefore, I can only laugh at those topics that were actively created by such "fighters"