The Blog

"They say women shouldn’t at all, it affects the baby."

"What baby? It’s just a delay by me!"

"Come on, cool off… I'm simply so… well… just…"

"Oh, yeah, the simplest simpleton ever, I’ve guessed it by now."

Two opaque jets of white draw a pair of slightly parting oblique lines sprung from the rounded nostrils, yet the drawing grew blurred and fuzzy around the splendid domes.

"And what of that funny tattoo you have here?"

"This? UF-3? Well, because I'm Aramis, you know."

"Damn! Some box of tricks you are, Inokenty!"

"Hey, May, do you happen to have a programmer relative?"

"Programmer is who announces programs on TV?"

"Kidding aside, huh? He’s in software programming, see? Games and… well… all sorts of widgets."

"You’re such a crank. A normal person can get it only 50% of your gibberish.

I too, by the way, have picked a hell of a lot of knobby words at that nutjob store. Now, tell me how surrealistic pics are different from non-sur ones?"

"Well, I'm serious. The word of mouth have it they’ve rolled out a game branded with, like, your last name."

"I don't have any relatives. Once, there was an uncle before he slipped through the iron curtain, yet he hardly knew what writing is about. A complete wino, by him any day was the Friday night."

"An alky went overseas? They have enough bums of their own."

"I swear on a stack of Bibles. He hacked a form or card, or something and left. It had some horse hue in its name, the card."

"See? Your uncle was a hacker! But a hacker and alcoholism are miles apart! Things incompatible! Though… on the second thought…

And what’s his name?"

"Yegor. Waringov Yegor. And that of your game?"

"Warring Maya."

"Screw him! He used my name! But I thought they need a crowbar or at least a tire iron for hacking."

He laced the digits of his left hand with those of the right, put the produced binding under his invariably unfortunate sufferer—back of the head—and fell silent with his stare pushed, thoughtfully, up into the ceiling.

The stare, on the way, got wrapped with fluffy, indolent stir of the whitish gossamer veil pricked, here and there, far and wide in between, with scintillant sparky studs which pierced the shimmer of an indistinct nature, at certain spots in their irregular dispensation—

[…Ministry of Health warns! One drop of nicotine drops a horse dead on the spot!…

…Anonymous Equestrian Society awards $500,000 for MoH’s head…

…Download our newly pirated app PIZDETZ-TO-ADZZ free, without registration!… ]

Maya uplifted the ashtray (enlarged 1:2 replica of a leaf of Betula of Betulacea family in a spread-eagle position) so as to somewhat sadly squish her cigarette butt against the nebulous stains in the nicotine-yellowed veins bulging in the utensil's receptaculum.

…Protect the nature, your mother! Protect her loving lap! Protect it, effin' effers! You! Mother focal point disturbers!..

With a brief glance at Inokenty's sedate thoughtfulness, she unwrapped herself from the covering sheet and climbed over his introspective carcass so as to rise from the coach.

In the process, her shaggy pubis inadvertently rubbed, just so fleetingly, the quadriceps muscle in his left thigh under the layers of with his skin and her bed sheet, in turn, from inside out.

Awakening from a meditation that was not entirely clear even to Inokenty himself, he said:

"Eh?"

His stare, somehow of its own accord, clung to the nakedness, forthright and explicit, of the young form (rear view) approaching the door to the balcony with the deliberate steps of a stalking panther.

Her arms shot up as if mimicking the top of X and rested in the upper part of the frame around the glass as if to support her slender figure bent slightly forward onto the balcony door.

The entering light of the end of day softly outlined the ideally perfect circumference of her behind (well, almost perfect and pretty ideal, to some extent).

"Ah! Half-kingdom for a male!" sounded an unexpectedly deep in such a young creature soprano.

"A male? Fuck! No!" responded an unexpectedly hoarse (even to himself) whiskey voice from the coach. "You, unappeasable Fraulein Anhalt-Zerbskaya, would wear to tatters a company of grenadiers, I bet!"

"Shut up! Uncombed!" exclaimed she giving him a cheeky look over her perfectly perfect left shoulder and, in conclusion, yelled:

"Kenty’s a fool! Kenty’s a fool!"

"That’s your final twit, birdie! You’re for a load now in your catapult fork!"

"I’ll call young naturalists for help!"

He hopped up out from under the sheet with his synchronously jumped up dick (ha-ha! I'm the first! I'm the first! baa! bah!) stuck up in an arrogantly uptight sway as if it had just twirled or is about to start spinning some invisible mini hoop.

She squealed mischievously.

The the door bell buzzed.

"Who could that be?"

"I… I don’t know."

She pulled on jeans grabbed up from the floor, looked around for her T-shirt.

The bell buzzed again. More demanding, longer.

Maya went into the hallway, opened the door: