Dear transmission!
|
Almost crying on Saturday
|
the whole Kanatchikova Dacha
|
rushed to the TV.
|
Instead of eating, washing,
|
there it is, prick and forget, -
|
all crazy hospital
|
gathered at the screens.
|
He spoke, wringing his hands,
|
rhetoric and troublemaker:
|
about the impotence of science
|
before the mystery of Bermuda.
|
All brains smashed to pieces
|
braided all the twists,
|
and ropeway authorities
|
give us a second injection.
|
Dear editor!
|
Maybe better about the reactor,
|
there, about your favorite lunar tractor?
|
After all, it’s impossible, a year in a row -
|
That plates scare,
|
they say, vile, fly, -
|
then you have dogs barking,
|
then the ruins speak.
|
We have mastered something -
|
we beat the plates all year round,
|
we already ate a dog on them,
|
if the cook does not lie to us.
|
And piles of medicines -
|
we are in the toilet, who is not a fool.
|
This is life!
|
And suddenly Bermuda.
|
Here are those times.
|
It can't be like that!
|
We did not make a scandal -
|
we were missing a leader.
|
There are few real violent ones -
|
here and there are no leaders.
|
But for machinations and nonsense
|
we have networks and nonsense,
|
and not spoil our lunch
|
evil machinations of enemies!
|
These are their thin devils |
muddy the water in the pond,
|
Churchill came up with this
|
in the eighteenth year.
|
We are talking about explosions, about fires
|
composed a TASS note,
|
but the orderlies rushed
|
and fixed us.
|
Those who were especially fierce,
|
screwed to the backs of the beds,
|
fought in the foam paranoid,
|
like a witcher at a coven:
|
"Untie the towels,
|
infidels, savages,
|
we are heartbroken
|
and Bermuth at heart!
|
Forty souls to fight in shifts,
|
blazed hot.
|
How much to worry
|
triangular cases!
|
Almost everyone went crazy
|
even who was insane,
|
and then the head physician Margulis
|
TV banned.
|
There he is, the snake, looming in the window,
|
behind the back hides the plug.
|
He gave a sign to someone, so
|
paramedic, pull out the wires.
|
And what is left for us, to inject
|
and fall to the bottom of the well
|
and there is an abyss at the bottom of the well,
|
like in Bermuda, forever.
|
Well, tomorrow the children will ask
|
visiting us in the morning:
|
"Dads, what did these
|
doctoral candidates?
|
We will open to our children
|
the truth, they don't care
|
we'll say:
|
"Amazing near,
|
but it is forbidden!”
|
There is a home-based dentist Rudik,
|
Iago has a Grundig receiver, |
he turns it at night,
|
catches, contra, Germany.
|
He was a merchant there
|
and moved his mind
|
and came to us in a terrible excitement,
|
and with a number on the leg.
|
He came running, extremely excited,
|
and shocked us with a message,
|
like our scientific liner
|
stuck in a triangle.
|
Died, having spent fuel,
|
just fell to pieces
|
and our two crazy brothers
|
taken by the fishermen.
|
Those who survived the cataclysm
|
are in pessimism.
|
Their yesterdays in a glass prism
|
they brought us to the hospital.
|
And one of them, a mechanic,
|
told, having escaped from the nannies,
|
that Bermuda polyhedron
|
- unclosed navel of the Earth.
|
“What was there, how did you escape?” |
—
|
Everyone climbed and pestered,
|
but the mechanic was only shaking
|
and chinariki shot.
|
He cried, he laughed,
|
then bristled like a hedgehog.
|
He mocked us.
|
Well, crazy, what will you take!
|
A former alcoholic blew up
|
swindler and seditious:
|
“We need to drink a triangle.
|
For three of him, give!
|
Dispersed, and pours:
|
“The triangle will be drunk.
|
If it's a parallelepiped
|
be it a circle, fucking louse!
|
It hurts our souls |
"Voices" for thousands of miles.
|
We do not silence America in vain,
|
Oh, in vain we do not crush Israel:
|
With all its hostile essence
|
Undermine and harm -
|
Feed, sing us bermoutia
|
About the mysterious square!
|
lecturer from the program
|
Those who somehow
|
Talk about failure
|
And make people nervous
|
Take us, the doomed, -
|
Triangle of you scientists
|
Turns into insane
|
Well, we are the opposite.
|
Let the crazy idea
|
you do not cut in haste!
|
call us soon
|
through the bastard head physician.
|
Yours faithfully. |
Date, signature...
|
Answer us, otherwise
|
if you don't respond
|
we will write to Sportloto. |