Perhaps it's time to slightly dilute our fictional dark stories (real dark stories will also be - fans - don't worry! ) with something cool.

Introduction:
Despite the fact that according to birth certificates and passports - we are citizens of Poltava (we received Kiev registration only in July 2019 - when Margot before her Q-AutFat re-registered her apartments for us) - in fact, if we are not rural, then we are definitely semi-rural. My parents ' farms, summer trips to the village to visit my grandmothers, everything is shorter. So it's understandable why we like some typical rural food. And periodically we run to the market in the block from our house, where grandmothers from the vicinity of Kiev sell various delicious food.

In General, we were once removed by a Female Client for a day, and since there was a lot of alcohol and "weed" (and not only weed ), we were drawn to adventures after we worked. Let's go to your Favorite Swamp. Well, we had a good time, we're going home. And then Marie says: "Listen, I want real country sour milk! That's right now!" And a mixture of benzic, coxic, marijuana and champagne plays in the head-the sea is knee-deep. The campaign is not a question - I make a small detour, go to the bazaar, get out of the car and to our long-familiar grandmother: "Grandma N, do you have any of your brand's sour milk?" And then we notice that all the grandmothers in the bazaar and passing people look at us strangely (to put it mildly). And gradually we understand that this is not even at all surprising: two drunk girls got out of the car in mud from the heels to the tops of their heads inclusive, and even "sparkling with pussy and Tits" and at the same time barefoot but wearing gloves (which is also somewhat strange from the point of view of a "normal" person ) - and buy sour milk. But no one really told us anything. In General, we also bought homemade pickles then.