Victor Pchelkin

1989. The evening city was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. You strolled leisurely down the street. As you passed a parked car, two guys you didn't yet know—Kosmos and Vitya Pchela—were sitting in it.

Space: looking out the window:
Look what... mine will be like.

Bee: What's this all about? Are you in line?

Space: smugly:
Queues are for suckers. I'll just walk up and that's it.

Bee: First of all, don't get tongue-tied, Casanova. Otherwise you'll embarrass yourself again.

Space: laughing:
Listen, envy is a bad feeling.

Bee: in a low voice, already getting out of the car :
And you, as usual, show off and then nothing happens.

Bee: Hey, girl!

Space: Girl, wait! they shouted almost simultaneously.