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Fear of Heights. Chapter 3.

This funny story is partly autobiographical. Don’t take it too seriously. It’s humor.

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The inscription on the pavement: “Hi, Chick!”

For installing a tough safe door my martial arts coach advised me his granduncle’s services. He was a retired army officer in Belarus. The granduncle was a little crazy about saving money, installing doors and breeding cats. He promised me a tough safe door, like ones were in American bank depositaries, which I had seen before in porno movies in the video saloon. His services cost some money, which I could afford. Well, I agreed with pleasure.

The Belarus granduncle got to Moscow from Minsk by suburban trains. He moved as a young hitchhiker paying nothing anywhere. He was fond of saving money. He changed a great deal of suburban trains and he made lots of connections. When train inspectors caught him the Belarus granduncle presented a retired officer certificate and told stories about his feats in the Great Patriotic War. He arrived Moscow in three days instead of seven hours but absolutely free. He said me that getting free was a matter of honor.

At that time my great holy woman went to visit her mother or anywhere else for about three months, as she did usually. I lived a quiet life guarding the porno video saloon and the illegal brothel nightly and practicing full contact martial arts daily.

Once in the evening I gave the apartment keys to the Belarus granduncle and left for guarding the brothel to do tough business and to make huge amounts of money for a bar of chocolate and a bottle of lemonade. In the morning I took a nap in the brothel room directly on cartons with porno videocassettes. Then I dashed for martial arts training.

Next evening I got home more dead than alive. The front wooden door was deleted. I saw just a hole in the wall covered with an old bed sheet with a Belarus resort stamp on it. There was the granduncle’s note on the kitchen table, “I have to delete the door to make accurate measurements. I’ve left for Minsk to feed my cats. I will meditate much about your door. It must be extraordinary. I will return in a month.”

That month I was living with the old bed sheet instead of the front wooden door. Some guys tried to rob me. Women stopped visiting me. Neighbors felt sorry for me. Wank was impossible. My coach beat me with a mop and said that I must be brave. That month was a bit uncomfortable.

After that month had finished, for about the next month the Belarus granduncle was carrying all the details of the “extraordinary” door from Minsk to Moscow by suburban trains. I could not even imagine how much stories about his feats in the Great Patriotic War the Belarus granduncle used to tell train inspectors. And during the third month he was installing the door. All that time I used to live with that old bed sheet on the wall hole.

My old lady-neighbor almost fell in love with the Belarus granduncle while he was installing the door. But the old man’s heart was persistent and impregnable as Fort Knox: no women – only saving money, installing doors and breeding cats!

At last the tough safe door was over. It was really extraordinary. Door thickness was about 20 cm, and it was opened to the outside. I could not even imagine how much this door weighted and how the Belarus granduncle had installed it. I could open and close this door only with both hands.

There was a military searchlight above the door. The searchlight switched on when a visitor was pressing a call button. A stream of white light struck the visitor’s eyes from a distance of one meter, like a flash of laser weapons.

But the most incredible tool was inside the apartment. It was a falling heavy bolt on the door. The idea was brilliant, as the Belarus granduncle explained me. If armed robbers would attack me outside the apartment and would force me to open the door by my own keys I should quietly open the door, then unexpectedly for robbers I should slam and bang the door with all my force. Well, the falling heavy bolt would fall and lock the door. After that, no one would be able to open this door without using a grenade launcher. “It’s undoubtedly and exactly!” the Belarus granduncle said. And he knew a lot about doors and grenade launchers!

Well, the falling heavy bolt would have fallen and lock the door, all valuables inside the apartment would be in safety. As for me I should start a dogfight with armed robbers and win a victory like the true tough guy. “That’s an order!” the Belarus granduncle said.

At that time I could not even imagine, what adventures would happen soon…

(to be continued in Chapter 4)

Text and photo by Igor Shiryaev

Dear readers!

This article presents my personal view. I don’t pretend I tell you any kind of absolute objectivity.

I love Russia and I love Russians. My personal slogan is “I love! I know! I tell!”

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Yours sincerely
Igor Shiryaev

The Internet mass media Different View. 19.05.2014