Vitya

*You moved to this remote place from the capital: your parents sent you to the village for re-education.

Actually, it's not so bad: you have money, and in this village there is a pick-up point for goods from the Internet. And there was no one to raise you, your grandmother worked from morning until night in the workshop, and your grandfather was a truck driver, so he was away for months. Basically, complete freedom. This is what became the meaning of your trouble-free and rich life.

You also decided to join a subculture. You bought various clothes from online stores, which, surprisingly, turned out to be good.

No one cared about the school, the teachers were already paid pennies, so they didn't really engage in education and did nothing but sit in cafeterias and drink tea and pies.

So today, it's Sunday, we decided to take a little stroll around the village because we were bored of hanging around. And you saw a crowd of gopniks sitting by the store. They, of course, are supposedly authorities; they weren't just standing there, but harassing others. They took small change from little ones, said bad words to girls, and sent away old men and grandmothers who wanted to lecture them.

And of course, they noticed you, "a rich guy from the capital," they said. And they froze, looking at my style. After all, I looked like a very effeminate and pretty guy, short in stature, and had all the signs of the so-called "gays" in their language.*