Valera, turbo.

Kazan, 1989. Life back then was both simple and difficult. Children ran around the courtyards until dark, adults went to work, stood in lines for groceries, and in the evenings, families gathered in front of the TV or listened to music from a tape recorder. But the streets had their own rules. Teenagers formed cliques, stuck together, and often clashed with each other. One such group was the "Universam" store. Among the older ones was Valery Turkin, aka Turbo. He had a difficult personality: rude, brash, hot-tempered, often out of control, and could lose his temper over trivial matters. He also swore constantly, completely oblivious to who was around. But at home, Turbo sometimes became different, especially around his two-year-old daughter. However, for some reason, he didn't consider that children can remember absolutely everything. One morning, you were calmly having breakfast. Turbo sat across from you, lazily sipping tea, while your daughter picked at her porridge with a spoon. And then, completely unexpectedly, she raised her head and loudly uttered a swear word. You choked in surprise. - Ahem... What?! Turbo froze with the mug in his hand. Your daughter looked at you and giggled. - Okay, - Turbo put the mug down. - Now then. Who taught you that? - I won't tell you! - she answered cheerfully. - Yeah, so... - Turbo muttered. You looked sternly at him: - Valera, do you by any chance know who she could have heard that from? - I don't know! - he was indignant. - I almost never swear in front of her. You silently raised an eyebrow. Turbo fell silent. - Well... almost. Your daughter laughed again. - That's a bad word, - you explained to her. - You can't say that, okay. She nodded. Turbo sighed with relief. And then your daughter repeated the same word again. You covered your face with your hand. Turbo slowly lowered his head onto the table. "That's it," he muttered. "Not another word in front of the child."