Winter is coming and I already had a hole in my old sneakers so that I could put two fingers in, so after a month of sacrifices thanks to which I saved money, yesterday I went to the shopping mall to buy decent winter shoes.
In the CCC store I found solid workmanship, affordable price, fashionable look - I didn't think long. I came home with my shoes, I walked around the room wearing them, I looked at myself in the mirror and it felt good. I also impregnated them solidly so that they would not let water in and would not deteriorate.
Today I went to university in my new shoes. Thanks to them I felt more self-confident, when I was sitting in the corridor, I stretched my legs far out so that people could see better what my elegant shoes are.
After class, at the bus stop in Krakowskie Przedmieście, I wait for a bus and here a well-known Catholic traveler Wojciech comes out of the cafe.
Cejrowski. Elegantly dressed, not in some Hawaiian shirt, with exotic motifs, he only had a yerba mate cup in his hand.
He looked at me, at my shoes and comes up and asks if these shoes are the ones from CCC for PLN 139.00.
I am glad to tell him that yes, Mr. Wojtek, exactly the same, and that it is nice that you noticed.
Cejrowski only said that
- Rubbish
My jaw dropped and I don't know what's going on. Cejrowski asks, whose words I do not understand "garbage" or "garbage". Well, I say that I understand both of them, but I don't know why he says that. Cejrowski says it's because only trash can wear such f ** k, poor shoes. That he would go to wild countries and there the UN and the Red Cross sent such shoes to poor people for free, and even they did not want to wear them, but threw them away. And that even there was a special meeting of the UNICEF committee that you are not allowed to give hungry children such shitty shoes, so they stopped shipping only to stores in Poland.
People at the bus stop are laughing under their noses and looking at my shoes, I already have a lump in my throat and I try to hide one by one but it doesn't help. However, I thought that I would not let a famous man push myself around with myself and I shouted at Wojciech that he himself walks barefoot through the world, so he has no right to shit my shoes.
Cejrowski laughs and says that he walks barefoot in elegant foreign countries, not in Poland, where every 5 meters you can enter a dog's shit or some HIV syringe, and that in Poland he walks in decent shoes and shows me his shoes with with some frendzles, stripes, dolce & gabana and that they even have such a button that when an avalanche buries him in those shoes, he presses the button and then it can be found under the snow.
I do not give up and shout that he is a zealous believer and that the Lord Jesus walked barefoot or in some crumbling sandals, so why does he insult me? Cejrowski said that with these sandals of Jesus it was the leftist propaganda of the Second Vatican Council and Jesus chose his shoes very carefully, and if now he would come down to earth again and see me in such shoes, he would burn me in the face.
I'm all red, I don't know what to say, people are roaring with laughter and Wojtek Cejrowski tells me to behave like a white man of honor and take off these shoes and drink them. Well, I take off these shoes, I'm all already roaring because I feel sorry for them and put them in the trash can at the bus stop delicately, because I wanted to take them out when Cejrowski goes.
I'm standing in the snow in only socks, my legs are burning with cold, the bus is slowly coming, I wanted to quickly grab my shoes and jump inside, but when I threw myself into the trash, Wojciech blocked my way and told me to have some dignity. I got on the bus barefoot, passed one stop, got out and ran back to pick up my shoes. I rummage in the garbage can, I throw everything out of it, but the shoes are gone. I ask people who were standing at the bus stop, if the shoes were not taken from the garbage can and they say that the famous traveler Wojciech Cejrowski was here and took his shoes and said that he was going on a risky trip to Nepal and he would have elegant and reliable shoes .
And I'll be drinking all winter in my old sneakers.
Anonki, a few days ago, I told you how the traveler Wojciech Cejrowski, by trickery, deprived me of my shoes, which he caught his eye. Every morning, when I left the house, cold wind, snow and other weather phenomena falling into my adidas through a hole reminded me of this unpleasant situation. My anger grew with the progressive drop in the perceived temperature and today the measuring cup has changed because a piece of frozen dog shit fell into my shoe through the hole and it started to melt and smell like I was sitting at the lecture. I smelled the stench and discreetly looked at the soles, but they were clean, so I was convinced someone else had stepped on. People kept walking away from me all day and it wasn't until I got home that I noticed that my sock was completely dirty. The hell hit me so much that I thought they would normally take me straight to Kobierzyn, but as it is quite far from Warsaw, they didn't drive me away, but I decided to go to the police and report the crime to Cejrowski.
I took the shoe receipt and even the box full of them and the CCC catalog so that the policemen would not have a problem with making a memory portrait of my shoes and I went to my district police station.
There were quite a few people in the line for the duty room and each had a very long story to discuss. One old woman reported the missing dog and the policewoman tells her that it has to be done elsewhere because they are dealing with criminal cases, so grandma says that at least they would hang posters and on the TV after the news they showed a picture of the dog because maybe someone saw it, and the policewoman says that the animals are missing they do not only deal with the dog if someone stole it, so they could start the investigation, to which the old woman says that she remembers that the dog did not escape her during a walk, only three men pulled him into the car and drove away with a screech of tires and then the policewoman sent her to some room on the second floor.
Then there was a woman who asked them to release her son, who arrested him in the morning, because he would never beat anyone badly because he is a very good boy and he even went to his first communion once and shows this photo of his son from communion and asks if this policewoman thinks such a cute boy could beat someone so badly and steal a cell phone. The policewoman says that from being judged it is a court and they only catch people and the son was wanted for three months by an arrest warrant and they caught him. This mother says that he did not know that he was wanted, because he does not read the newspapers, he does not watch TV, but only sits with his nose in the books all day, this is a diligent student and if he knew, he would report himself to the police station and explain the matter culturally as his father, who is now in prison as wanted for robbery attacks. The duty officer sent her away with the receipt and it was finally my turn.
Well, I say that my elegant Italian Gino Lanetti shoes from CCC were stolen and I know the perpetrator, so I solved the whole matter for them, only you have to go to the thief and take his shoes from him and I do not know where he lives and I am afraid. I show the policewoman a CCC newspaper and a receipt and a box, and she tells me that, first of all, I am surprised that I care so much about these shoes because an hour ago they had a delinquent, to whom they brought such shoes from the welfare, because the United Nations sent 10 containers of them to Poland If he wanted him for the winter, he didn't like these shoes so much that he threw them at the social worker and his temple was cut open.
Secondly, the shoes cost PLN 139.00, so it will only be a misdemeanor, not a crime, because the crime is stolen for more than PLN 250, so no one will want to look for it and the case will probably be discontinued. I say that I am categorically demanding justice and he asks who stole these shoes from me, so I say that Wojciech Cejrowski, son of Marian, born in Elbląg. People in the queue are laughing and the policewoman is also laughing and she wants to dismiss me, and then suddenly an old policeman who was just passing by says that he wanted to assault this son of Cejrowski's son for a long time because he served the People's Republic of Poland for many years and even when they shot a series about lieutenant Borewicz, they followed his example and Cejrowski challenges all former militiamen against traitors and does not want to fuck off the general.
He told me to come tomorrow because he is finishing work now, I tell him that there is no time to lose here because Cejrowski may at any time go on a trip and escape to some exotic country that does not have an extradition agreement signed with Poland and himself he will sit there for the rest of his life in my shoes and look for the wind in the field. The old policeman says that if so, so that I would just check where Cejrowski lives and we'll go right away. He also took a gun, truncheon, handcuffs, pepper spray, a stun gun and other equipment to make Wojciech suffer during his arrest and we went to Konstancin near Warsaw, where, according to the documents, Cejrowski is registered. We get to the address given and there is a huge villa, it was almost like a primary school I attended. The prototype of Borewicz calls the gate and Cejrowski says thanks to the loudspeaker that he is thankful, but he already has both a modern vacuum cleaner and ecological bedding, to which the policeman, as in the movies, yells that the police should open the door. Cejrowski leaves the house wearing only panties, a Hawaiian shirt and my shoes and opens the gate. I shout that these are my shoes and that he should give them back and the policeman shouts that he will show him what he is doing with the counter-revolutionaries, and Wojtek Cejrowski only smiles and says that gentlemen, take it easy, I invite you inside, we will explain everything. Well, we go inside and I keep looking at his legs all the time, so that he doesn't do anything with these shoes and that it doesn't turn out that he is barefoot and doesn't know anything about any shoes. Inside, there is a huge splendor, all lined with marble, on the walls hang heads of wild animals such as hippos and rhinoceros. We went to some room and Cejrowski seated us at such a table made of an elephant leg cut off and tells the policeman that he reminds him a bit of lieutenant Borewicz, then the policeman smiled a bit and says that he reminds him well because lieutenant Borewicz was modeled on him, and that he was a good policeman all his life, he defended order and does not understand why Cejrowski insults them still. Cejrowski started to laugh to his heart and says that this insult is a game to channel anti-communist sentiment and extract money, and he himself respected the people's authority from a small age and was with her for his brother that he reported to UB against Solidaruchów and, for example, against Grzesiek Przemyk, he himself reported that the policemen would catch him after he drank after graduation, and that, as he otherwise imagines, he would get permission to travel abroad at that time. Cejrowski flew to another room and immediately returns with his hands full of various papers and shows: my first loyka, my first denunciation, written thanks from general Kiszczak, etc.
The policeman tells him that he very nicely and appreciates everything, but why after 1989 he sold himself so much to what Wojciech says that it is all planned in such a way as to draw money from these travel and journalistic programs and he donates almost all of this money to the Ordynacka Association only for himself he left to have this house, because he would not live like an animal in some mycelial cubicle like solidaruchy. And it was all an idea of Jurek Urban, who lives here over the fence and is about to drop by to drink his toddler for old times, and in fact, when Cejrowski said it through the window, I saw that Jerzy Urban was going out into the garden next door, climbing a tree by the fence , crosses the branch over this fence and jumps. He could go down the street, but that was clearly his fantasy. I was scared that he would break because it was high, but he bowed his head down and his ears fluttered and it slowed him down so much that he landed like Captain Crow Tadeusz. The policeman saw Urban and happily says that he has always wanted to meet him, and Cejrowski immediately takes a bottle and a glass out of the cupboard. They poured water on me too, I drank in shock, and Urban asks if they remember how they pacified the furniture factory in Sieradz in 1981. They all laugh and start shouting over what who remembers, when they beat a worker with a stick on the balls and he squealed funny and laughed . They tell some anecdotes to each other, and I sit quietly and look at my shoes on Cejrowski's feet and finally I say to the policeman that here there is a laughable gadu chatter and we have come to retrieve my shoes, and the policeman is indignant that I have to stop slandering comrade Wojciech and fuck him in jumping up. I say that without my shoes I'm not going anywhere, he sprayed pepper spray in my face, that I lost my breath and my eyes were watering, he grabbed my collar, led me to the porch and kicked my ass until I fell down. Cejrowski immediately opened the garage door with the remote control and three tropical hyenas jumped out of there and straight to me. I ran behind the fence, slammed the gate and they barked. Cejrowski, the policeman and Urban were just staring out the window and laughing at me and I had to go home by suburban bus in leaky sneakers. Now the scoop has changed and I will definitely not leave it like this and somehow get my shoes back.
PART 2, 3, 4
Ananias you already know the shocking story of Wojciech Cejrowski taking my shoes off me and the unsuccessful attempt to recover them through the police and court, due to post-communist collisions. After Friday's humiliation at Cejrowski's house in Konstancin, I only thought about revenge and getting my shoes back. I was even considering breaking into Wojciech's mansion, but firstly I can't break in, and secondly, hyenas. Fate, however, gave me a great opportunity to retaliate much faster than I thought.
I work two days a week on this famous junk contract at this famous call center. I put satellite TV on some poor people from Poland B. It is not good for me, so I earn very little, but there is enough for my modest needs. Three weeks ago, all employees were invited to a company Christmas Eve at a club in the Palace of Culture and Science, which was to take place this Saturday, i.e. yesterday. At first I didn't give a shit but then I thought it might be worth trying out to people, especially since it was supposed to be free food, drink and all inclusive. In addition, it is a good opportunity to watch the gilts at work. I was planning to stand around the ladies' room with free food and watch what was happening inside when someone opens the door to leave or enter. In this way, you can see a woman, for example, correct her makeup or clothes, and if you are lucky, you can even see the legs of a pissing woman at the bottom of the cabin and immediately bend them hard. Well, I dressed as nicely as I could last night, splashed my dad's aftershave with water to smell nice, and left. When entering the club, it turned out that I forgot the invitation and the security guards did not want to let me in and no one from the company recognized me because I always sit quietly and I am not recognizable. The directors from my work, which organized the event and stood at the entrance, say that my supervisor is this Adam and he can confirm that I am me. The headmistress asked someone to call Adam and he comes after a while, slightly drunk, in a pink shirt and with gel on his hair, and says:
-Yes, he works for me, he's Szczurek hehe.
The proud nickname Szczurek was assigned to me at the very beginning of my work by Adam. The people in the line, which has grown quite large by the confusion with my invitation, are laughing and I quickly jumped in to leave the humiliation behind me. The event is kicking off and the assemblers are already facing the sellers - there is such a tradition in our company that fitters and sellers hate each other as fans of two different football teams and at every corporate event there are skirmishes against this background. Conflict is as old as the company and every longer working fitter or salesman has some reckoning with previous company games. In the spring we had a party to celebrate the company's 10th anniversary and one seller broke a glass on his head in the heat of battle so that the fitter now has a scar halfway down his head, so it was certain that the fitters would now want to avenge their companion. At one point, the president of the board entered the stage and gave a speech in which he thanked all of us for good work, etc., and then he announced the star's surprise performance and Wojtek Cejrowski jumped on stage in his own thief and in my shoes. I escaped from my mouth:
-MOTHER####ER.
Some woman from the HR department next to me said that the company paid Cejrowski 15,000 for the performance, so I better like it because otherwise she will talk to my supervisor, or we will have Maryla Rodowicz at every event, as it was so far. Wojciech was telling some travel jokes and I only thought about how to take his shoes from him. At one point, for example, he took some Mirek from the audience to the stage and asks him a trick question whether he was at the opening. Mirek asks what, and Cejrowski out loud:
- UMBRELLA IN THE DESERT MURZYŃSKA CHAT.
The whole hall roars with laughter. After an hour, Wojtek finished his performance on the stage and walks with a glass of wine among people and talked (they probably paid him for it) and I had to be very careful not to notice me because he would immediately become very vigilant and take care of his shoes. In the meantime, I had a great idea to drug Cejrowski with Zolpidem, which a doctor once assigned me for winning deficiency and social phobia, and which I carry with me all the time to be sure, even though I don't use it. I crushed 4 tablets, wrapped the powder in a tissue and wait for the right moment. After a few minutes, some fitter or seller landed in the fountain after a blow from another employee and everyone, including Cejrowski, was looking in that direction, so I took the opportunity to quickly approach Wojtek and poured Zolpidem into his wine. Fortunately for me, there was not enough wine so Cejrowski drank it in one gulp, grimaced and ordered coots. I was watching him all the time and after about 20 minutes he was already stunned as if he had drunk wine with Zolpidem, and he started to stagger towards the toilet so I followed him. I entered the bathroom and saw that Cejrowski had locked himself in one of the cabins and was lying on the ground and some Mirki were laughing:
-Hehe, no, Mr. Wojtek did it today.
I couldn't find my shoes with them, so I go to Mirków and say that I am the son of Wojciech Cejrowski and I came to take him home and I can't find him, so they say that he is in the cabin and if they can have my personal autograph as a son of a famous man. I scribbled some signature on the toilet paper and asked for help and one Mirek jumped into the cabin with the top and opened the door and the others picked up Cejrowski so that I could put his hand on my shoulder. I leave the club with Wojciech on my shoulder, everyone goes out of my way and looks respectfully that I am so close to a famous person. When I left the club, I threw the unconscious Cejrowski into coniferous bushes under the Palace of Culture, took off my shoes and went, stating that he would freeze for my injury. However, when I was going home, my conscience moved me and I called 112 and said that there was a man in the bushes by Emilia Plater and that it was probably Wojciech Cejrowski because he was barefoot.
After retrieving my shoes, I thought my adventures were over. However, this was not to happen. My mother is a strong believer and practitioner, as well as socially and politically involved as the secretary of the local Klub Gazeta Polska. He is also involved in all possible church initiatives, such as tuning altars for a Corpus Christi procession, a week of prayer for Poles in the East, etc. I'm lurking so I do what he tells me and, for example, I take some flowers from the warehouse to the church.
On Saturday, my mother announced that on Sunday we would be serving hot meals for the homeless people who were hungry and hungry in front of our church. In addition, a prominent PiS politician was to come, who had already visited this Smolensk club several times about my mother and wanted to show off what a handsome bachelor son he has (21 lvl 21, I never held a hand, interests: fap and games, achievements : 3rd place in the spelling competition in 2nd class of gymnastics. Super bachelor of ** o.)
At first I was sad because I had ambitious plans for Sunday to watch the pope dancing on the elite forum karabin.org, but then I decided that maybe for doing such a good deed before Christmas, God will forgive me a little slander of John Paul the Blessed and I will miss the torments of hell.
On Sunday, after the sum, I was placed with two Grażyna behind the counter under which there was a large pot of stew and thermos flasks with tea, with plastic dishes and cutlery on it, and a black and white photo of the president and his wife who fell from the bicycle, decorated with a black ribbon, which she placed there my mother to "spread patriotism and truth among the poorest." A long line of homeless people has already gathered, but the mother and the chairman of this club of Gazeta Polska told us that we are waiting to give out food until this MP from PiS arrives because he must have photos of how he helps the poor to warm his image, because the Polish-language media is constantly throwing mud on him. After a dozen or so minutes, an elegant car arrived and Antoni Macierewicz, the conqueror of the Military Information Services and the chairman of the Parliamentary Team for Investigating the Causes of the TU-154 M disaster on 10 April 2010, got out of it.
All the members of my old friend's club rushed to shake his hands and showed their fingers such V signs as Wałęsa did, and then Macierewicz was positioned behind the counter and we started distributing the food.
The first Grażyna served dishes and cutlery, then I poured tea, then Antonii put on the goulash, because the stew was the most photogenic, and then the second Grażyna put in the pockets of the homeless, who had their hands already full, a picture with Saint Krzysztof, the patron of drivers (they were the only ones on presbytery) and an artistic brochure "They were betrayed at dawn" with selected works by Jarosław Marek Rymkiewicz. I suspect that these pictures and magazines were there so that the homeless people knew for whom they were eating and living.
I saw that Macierewicz was sniffing the stew while putting it on and that his mouth water was dripping on it. When almost half of the queue was served and the photographers bought several hundred photos of Antoni and started rolling up the equipment, Macierewicz said that unfortunately the stew is over, so the others can get two cups of tea and two religious-poetic sets. The homeless did not seem happy, but they were not in a very good position to negotiate. Apart from Macierewicz, I was the only person who looked under the counter, because I was taking out thermos flasks with tea from there. I saw that there was still 3/4 full of stew in the pot. When the queue thinned a bit, Macierewicz started to ask me that my mother is a brave woman, where I study, etc. I said that I study journalism and Macierewicz said that it was very good and that in the future, when they won the elections, I would be able to write the truth in newspapers.
After a while, all the homeless people left, because the news spread among them that they do not give stew anymore and Grażynki started wiping the counter. Macierewicz said that he would take the pot home and wash it so that simple people would not be in trouble and that I would help him carry it to the car because it was heavy. I pretended I didn't know about the stew inside and helped put the pot in the trunk. My mother was looking at me from a distance and I saw that she was very proud that I am carrying such a pot with Mr. Antoni himself. After dealing with the vessel, Macierewicz offered to take a piece of me home.
I flew to my mother and I ask if he is coming back home, because Mr. Antonii can give us a lift, but my mother said that she and Father Klops still had to arrange the church for Midnight Mass and that I should go and she would return alone. For the first time, tears of joy fell from her eyes, apparently caused by the fact that I would go in a car with such a great Pole, and when I was leaving she blessed me for the road with the sign of the cross (the last time she did something like my father was going to Germany to collect asparagus in 2002)
I got into an elegant Volvo Macierewicz and we headed off. After a few minutes we were driving along Sobieskiego Street and we were near my apartment on Dolna, but Macierewicz suddenly left the street and said that he had something to do here and, unfortunately, I still have to come back on foot or by bus. Goodbye, he thanked me for helping with the pot, said that I was a good Pole and gave a pen with the inscription "Antonii Macierewicz - your candidate for MP. The truth will prevail! " then got out of the car. A security guard peeked out from the booth behind the gate and opened it for Macierewicz so that he could drive his Volvo. The address plate said - 100 Sobieski.
I was very surprised that Antoni Macierewicz entered this building. Some Warsaw anons may have heard of him, but for those who did not hear some of the information I obtained in the days when I was interested in such things, I read books about Hitler's hidden gold and boastly glued together paper models of submarines:
3 stops away is the Soviet embassy in the Russian sense. During the commune, the employees of the embassy (then still Russian in the Soviet sense) lived in the building at 100 Sobieskiego Street, and the plot itself was legally the territory of the Soviet Union, not Poland. After the collapse of the commune, some serious scams took place in this estate and in the end it has been empty for 20 years, and the legal status of the plot has not been clarified and theoretically it is the territory of Russia. For some time, there was something like a beer garden in the backyard behind the gate, where Russian gangsters and intelligence agents used to hang out. The so-called urban explorers, but it was very risky because it was still closely guarded (too diligently for an empty ruin) and you could get some turbo-baguettes under Russian law, including transport to a labor camp in Siberia, in a cell with Abramovich inclusive.
After two people changing into gas masks and playing Chernobyl entered it, it never came out again, even those urban explorers stopped entering it. The police, of course, could not do anything because it is not Poland on paper. Interesting fact - the famous Kaszpirowski lived there for some time. PS it's true. That is why I was intrigued by what Macierewicz will do there. Every day I am the famous Cossack on the Internet and drunk in the world, but this time my curiosity was so strong that I decided to follow Antoni, so I go to the gate and a security guard pops up and asks if I'm looking for happiness or misfortune. Frightened, I replied that I was just watching and he told me to drink it. I didn't give up and walked to the back of the building, where there was a lake and a lot of bushes. In one place, the tree growing by the fence allowed for a fairly efficient transition to the other side. I figured you live once and jumped over the fence. I thought that because of the place I am in, it is an allegory of Władysław Kozakiewicz's jump over the bar at the 1980 Olympics in Moscow.
From the bushes surrounding the building, I climbed the balcony to the apartment on the ground floor, the window of which was open. There was no furniture in the living room except a Swarzędz wall unit (I have the same one), in the kitchen only cabinets and a Soviet refrigerator the size of a modern electric car or a Polish internal combustion car. I went out through the door into the corridor. The sun was slowly setting and it was getting darker in the building. Debris, broken glass, and some rubbish crunched under my shoes. I didn't know which way to go, but after a while I heard an echo of laughter. I moved about in the direction it was coming from. After a few minutes of wandering through the corridors, I reached the staircase, which was fundamentally different from the rest of the interior - it was lit with light and the marble gleamed like when the Soviets entered Afghanistan. I felt I was on the right track and started up the stairs. After walking a few floors, I saw stew splashed on the marble. I already knew that it was Macierewicz who was hauling a pot looted from the Christmas feeding action, so I followed his greasy trail. At the top of the cage there was a steel door slightly ajar, from behind which the sounds of conversation could be heard, so I approached it quietly on my tiptoes and then gently peeked inside. There was a lot of furniture and some old electronic devices in the square, windowless room. There was a metal mesh suspended from the ceiling and walls. The sense of orientation told me that I was probably in this square block connecting two parts of the building high above the ground, but this sense is not my strongest because I can still get lost in the supermarket and then I have to ask the security guards which way to leave, so I will not cut it. In the middle of the room there were some armchairs and sofas, similar to those that my grandpa had before my grandfather, who had Alzheimer's, fell off his bicycle, dirty them. I discreetly slipped into the room and hid behind some closet-sized machine that looked to be a '70s or' 80s computer. Gently peeking out from behind the device, I watched the figures. Antoni Macierewicz sat with my back to me, whom I recognized by voice and then clockwise: Andrzej Rozenek, spokesman for the Palikota Movement Parliamentary Club, prominent SLD politician Ryszard Kalisz, who has been in the top three in surveys of social trust for many years, Paweł Graś Eugeniusz Kłopotek, spokesman for the government and representing the peasantry, was once honored with the Knight's Cross of the Order of Polonia Restituta for his services to his homeland.
-Come on, boys, I tell you, take out this stew but I won't eat it myself hehe
He encouraged the feast companions (apart from the stew, there were also a few bottles of alcohol on the table). Macierewicz:
-This is not a lustration procedure for everyone to try to be the last.
He added, which made everyone laugh loudly.
-Well, I can fuck half a plate but seriously only half because my cholesterol is jumping, especially when I still drink it.
Rozenek said, whose orange metal marijuana leaf tucked into the lapel of his jacket matched the food well in terms of color.
-Catch Gienek quickly, because when Rysio will get it, you will eat it, not a stew.
He said, laughing, Paweł Graś, and then he filled his and his coalition's plate.
-No, I don't fuck it.
Kalisz laughed and added:
-We're not at some fucking banquet for me to eat with cutlery.
Then he set the entire pot on his lap and began to scoop it full handfuls, stuffing huge amounts of food into his mouth. With his hand movements, he resembled a crawl swimmer, but Kalisz did not take breaks to draw air, but to dig pieces of meat between his chins.
Once the politicians had satisfied the first hunger, they began to wonder what kind of alcohol to open. Kalisz and Rozenek opted for gin, while Macierwicz and Kłopotek opted for Polish vodka. The gentlemen began to raise their voices and called each other "dark-garden" and "salesmen" depending on whether they wanted to drink foreign or homely pure liquor. The brawl was interrupted by Graś by offering a compromise ".
- Gentlemen, let's count the votes.
Vodka won three to two and after a while Macierewicz was reflecting the flask with a combos elbow - hand - forehead.
-When will G be?
Rozenek asked.
- He should have been here for an hour, he probably has a problem with roots again.
Graś replied.-Paweł ku ** and quieter! The walls have ears here!
Macierewicz scolded him.
-You always had the fucking hell with those wiretaps and math agents. Just like in '91 ...
The government spokesman began his argument, but Rozenek did not let him finish:
-C ** i hurt '91, if the old man is gone in 15 minutes, we'll come to him
At the same time, Macierewicz's cell phone rang:
-Hello? Yes, that's how we are. Okay. Yes. I see. Yes. We'll be right back.
Then he hung up.
-G says that we have to come to him because the roots are blowing him ** and he will not get out of bed without a hundred
All those present got up and started getting dressed and then went to the corner of the room. Suddenly, the wall in the corner opened like in this Harry Potter film and I saw an elevator They got in, and Kalisz tried to take a pot of stew with him, but was rebuked by the others, that the elevator had not been maintained for 30 years and he still already exceeds the standard load, so if he takes this gar, it will surely drop in value. Kalisz began to complain that it was a pity that such a good stew would be wasted on what Macierewicz said, that he should come back for this stew and maybe even freeze it for Christmas.
The elevator door closed and I emerged from hiding and wondered what was actually going away. I waited a few minutes then went to the wall, somehow located the button and pressed it.
The elevator did not match the sumptuous style of the staircase. It looked rather technical, which was never intended to carry official visitors. As I wasn't one of those, I didn't feel offended and went inside. There were only two buttons, one for an up arrow and one for a down arrow. The IQ tests were always good for me, so I chose the latter. The labyrinth told me that the elevator was moving at high speed, but it did not stop quickly. I was certainly underground already, as evidenced by the moisture hanging in the air. Eventually the elevator stopped. After opening the door, I saw 3 corridors - diagonally to the left, going straight and going right at an angle of 90 degrees. Once, when there were some elections or something like that, I received a leaflet on the street that every man has a heart on the left and now it somehow stupidly reminded me, and that I had no better idea than to give up when making decisions on archival election materials, I chose the first corridor.
Walking down the corridor for about 10-15 minutes and using my cell phone, I came across an empty vodka bottle lying on the floor. A sign that the objects of my observation passed through here.
After a dozen or so minutes of walking, I finally reached the door. It was not a "military" door, as in the building at 100 Sobieskiego Street, but an ordinary, wooden, quite old door. I crossed the threshold and found myself in the most ordinary cellar in the world, which had shelves full of jars containing pickled cucumbers, mushrooms and other delicacies of retired people, piles of junk and waste paper, and a Jubilat bicycle. I took the stairs leading upstairs to the residential part of the house.
It was not extravagant and it did not strike the eye with its richness, it was a well-kept apartment. All the furniture and items were arranged neatly, as if the house was inhabited by a family with OCD, or simply ordinary Polish pensioners who, due to lack of other activities, spend half of the day cleaning. The sounds of conversation came from behind the glass doors. I knew opening them would be as risky as opening an umbrella in a Negro hut in the desert, so I just stuck my ear to them. I recognized by the voices that the politicians I had tracked were in the room. But there was someone else with them, I guessed the owner of the house.
-And you can't go to some spa or sanatorium with these roots? I was in Krynica on a slimming treatment and I really appreciate myself. They fed well.
He advertised the services of Polish rehabilitation and recreation centers Ryszard Kalisz.
-Do you think I haven't tried? Every time I go somewhere, I meet old friends and I end up drinking and playing cards for a week. On the last trip, with Cześek, I traveled three thousand in macao.
The voice sounded familiar.
-Well right, dip it and play cards then you can stay with us. By the way, maybe after a toddler?
Rysiek suggested, which was met with loud approval of all gathered.
After consumption, the alleged farmer said:
-Okay, end of f ** king. You said there was some important thing.
-Oh yes, listen, this moron Wojtek fucked up again. He barely came out of it alive and somewhat exposed our organization. Fortunately, nobody knows about us, but some guy saw him with Uszatek. In addition, we do not know what he looks like, because Wojtek, as usual, when you do not need to drink a **, take pictures as if ** any and now he did not take any and we only have a memory portrait based on what he and Uszaty said
Macierewicz began to translate:
-One stupid and the other blind.
-Well the fuck really.
Eugeniusz Kłopotek commented
-Hehehe, you've seen this movie, how this boy jumps on a bike and also says so and the other then ...
Rozenek began to laugh.
-Take your mouth shut with your boarding house. Monika taught me something there, but I don't understand shit from it. You have to click something here, type in here, some crosses were flying here, some are fucked up. -Antonia, better say what this Wojtek said and what they did to him.
Said the host-So he claims that some kid lent him shoes and a few days later the police came to his house, tearing up his murder that Wojtek didn't just borrow a job. Fortunately, this policeman turned out to be okay, but Wojtek with that laugh, Uszaty, instead of dung on the spot, fuck when he saw them together, they made fun of him and let him burn. A week later, Wojtek was at some party wearing these shoes, the movie suddenly stopped and he woke up in the sobering-up center barefoot. At first he thought that after he drove something he got drunk and wanted to shoot the program so he had a drink or they stole his shoes from him in the room because they were supposed to be very elegant, but then he talked to the bodyguards from the club and told him that some kid was from there, he took him full, and it was probably the same one that was at his house, and to whom he had put his shoes on. Unfortunately, they had the cameras in the club on that day because the euro connector was broken or something like that.
Macierewicz explained. While listening to this story, all the blood drained from my face because I already knew it was about me. I thought that this unpleasant adventure ended when I left unconscious Cejrowski in the bushes under the Palace of Culture. As you can see, it was supposed to be just the beginning.
-Debil and kleptomaniac from that fucking Wojtek. Fucking trouble with him and no use for it. He has little fucking money to buy shoes? Well, you will have to track the piss off and get there, because it can make us shit. Since he has already raised his hand to the democratic authorities and Wojtek did so, you will have to hold his hand at the elbow.
Mad with terror, I started to retreat towards the front door. After a moment of gripping the lock with shaking hands, I managed to get outside. I ran to the snow-covered Icarus Street, from which, looking back all the time, I got to Królikarnia Park and then through the small streets between allotment gardens to Dolna, to my block. I locked the door with all possible locks and began to think how I could avoid the impending death with slow but sure steps.
After the recent events in the mysterious house on Icarus Street, where I overheard that I had been sentenced to death, I could not recover normally, but I did not sleep at night. I told my mother that I feel sick, I think I am and I will stay in bed this week and she said that it was probably out of emotions that I met Antoni Macierewicz and she understood because when she met him, her stomach was also drilling and she told me to do it. lie down in bed and drink stomach drops and relaxation herbs named after blessed Maksymilian Sopoćko, which was once brought by her father Volodya from Belarus for these intercessory prayers for Poles, which she organized. I was lying in bed for 3 days and only going to the toilet or looking out the window when I heard some suspicious sounds announcing my death, which means every now and then. Today I had to finally go to the university because I had this famous colossus and if I did not go, I would be in serious trouble for the semester and my mother would not forgive me and if I had a condition, she would probably have done all those serial killers who are probably chasing me and me my head blew.
In the morning I put on my shoes, which got me into all this trouble, I wrapped my face in a scarf so that I would not be recognized and I went to the colossus. An additional bonus to self-confidence was still a bit functional, so even for one girl I stood on her feet, probably accidentally, and because I have such large shoes new from CCC.
When the classes ended, I went to the bus stop where the story began and I am waiting for the bus. I was standing far from the basket because unpleasant memories were coming back and I was looking to see if no one was watching me but everything seemed to be fine, i.e. only young girls smiled at me that I have nice shoes, which is a nice change because before this purchase they usually laughed at me . The bus has pulled up so I get on and a middle-aged couple follow me and sit in front of me on the "four". For a moment I was worried why they just sat here because the bus was right empty and if they weren't some spies but they started arguing because the woman said that he was looking at someone's ass and the guy said he was not looking, so normal . Everything was fine, but when we were a bit behind the Trzech Krzyży square, they suddenly ask me where I got such nice shoes or not at CCC by accident. I was scared not to joke that either these killers or the next ones who want to fool me, so I say that I don't know these shoes at all and I just stood at home, I put them on and started to run to the driver. The bus stopped at the traffic lights and I wanted to get out of it as soon as possible and it was still far to the bus stop, so I tell the driver to open the door quickly because I saw a sick pigeon on the street and you need to help him (I couldn't think of anything better while I waited). I hit the jackpot because the driver tells me that he loves pigeons very much because he grew up in the countryside and his grandfather bred pigeons and he had both white-headed and ointment, and even saddled paws, and that he is very happy that there are still decent people in this world and He opened the front door for me. I hops onto the street and I walk like nothing, I look at this couple discreetly from the bus but they only looked at me as if I were an idiot and the bus went on.
I am going towards Plac na Rozdrożu to take the next bus at the nearest stop and I think that maybe my nerves are already so frayed that I am exaggerating with this suspicion because, in fact, those people only asked and it would be hard for them to be surprised if I I didn't have such shoes and if I saw someone, I would also ask because they attract attention and have the right to please. I am already halfway to the stop, at the monument of some soldier, and then suddenly this guy with a woman is running at me from the opposite direction and you can see that they really want something from me, so they got off at Plac na Rozdrożu to catch up with me.
All the rational thoughts that I had a moment ago disappeared immediately and I turned back and with a quick step, like a multiple Olympic medalist Robert Korzeniowski, I run away from them, but so that it would not be visible that I was just running away, maybe I was just walking very fast. Unfortunately, the distance between us was still narrowing and after a few hundred meters of the seemingly chase they were already several meters behind me and shouting hello please wait, and I pretend that I cannot hear and I have death in front of my eyes. Suddenly on the left I see the Swiss embassy and in a fraction of a second I thought to go to this embassy and apply for a shoe asylum like this blonde anonymous man in Great Britain who raped someone and then revealed state secrets on the internet. I did not have time to think about it too long, so a few moments later, under the strong influence of adrenaline, I jumped over the fence, unjustly accused of cooperation with the Lech Wałęsa Security Service.
I did not have time to touch the ground well and already on the ground floor 4 windows opened and from three of them people in three official languages of Switzerland are shouting at me. There was no one in the fourth window because I did not know that apart from Italian, French and German, the Romansh language was also in force since 1996. Out of all these languages, I knew only a few words in German, so I shout that nicht fersztejen sprehen keine dojcz only polnisch und ich wolle schuhe - asylum, one polyglot who knew Polish shouts that I should bake a ** because this is not some Gdańsk Shipyard (apparently he understood the reference to Wałęsa) only a decent embassy and under the snow where I stand, the expensive flowers vegetate and I step on them, and that if I do not leave the area in 3 seconds, I have a scythe under my ribs. All diplomatsthey emphasized the threat by pulling out Swiss pocket knives, and using them to open various blades, saws, scissors, and corkscrews and shook them at me. Having no other option, I went out the gate.
Immediately a woman grabbed me under my left hand and a guy under my right hand, and they said that I should be polite, nothing would happen to me. Fear paralyzed me until my legs were physically numb and the couple had to pull me a bit, but after a dozen or so meters they started to insist that I should walk like a man because no one pays them for pulling people, so I should be a little understanding and not make it difficult, and that I am naturally agreeable and helpful it did not hinder it anymore. We were walking towards Na Rozdrożu Square along the Ujazdowskie Street under our arms and we had to look like parents with a handicapped son because people were sending us sympathetic glances. Right in front of the Ministry of Justice, we suddenly turned right and entered some mansion where there was a restaurant that looked very expensive. I immediately figured out what was going on and breathed a sigh of relief and explain that as for this goulash, I would be happy to give the recipe if I knew it, but it was not me, I only beat one Mrs. Grażyna from the Polish Gazeta Club, so please report to her a I'll be gone now. The guy who pulled me just looked resigned and asked again not to make it difficult because nobody pays him for it, and I even understood him because at my call center bonuses are only for packages sold and for listening to people's complaints and recipes already not. Instead of entering the restaurant, we walked around the building and went through a small gate to the street on the other side and then straight to the first building on the right. I thought that they would take me to some basement and immediately a bullet in the head and my legs paralyzed again, but instead they dragged me to the second floor to some office, threw me into an elegant room and left.
I picked myself up from the floor and there is no one else sitting behind the desk except the author of Poland's accession to NATO and the EU, Aleksander Kwaśniewski. Immediately, I am culturally suggesting that he should rest in an armchair and I cry and say that I will only give my shoes back, let me live. The president laughed and says that no one will take my life or shoes away from me, only many people became very curious about me and wanted to get to know me better. I calmed down a bit but not quite yet and I ask what's going on and he will explain everything in a moment but he is a bit hungry and if I would not want to eat something too, because it is already very lunchtime, and his friend brought a delicious stew and maybe I would like to taste. I thanked me politely because my stomach was cramped and Kwasniewski opened the window, leaned out and shouted ADAAAM ADAAAAAAAM, and Adam shouted COOOOOOO, and Kwasniewski that OOOBIAAAAAAD and after a while the editor-in-chief of the largest daily newspaper in Poland, Adam Michnik, ran into the office.
He greeted me pleasantly, patted me on the shoulder, Aleksander put stew on him and, while eating, they started to ask me what the scandal with these shoes was because they received some disturbing news from various places and there was even a meeting of the National Security Bureau on this matter. Well, I started telling everything from the beginning and they only laughed every now and then and commented that, for example, this Antek Macierewicz is all poetic and patriotic leaflets and they have to reprint every now and then Agora S.A. It is because of this that matrix printing on their machines for free is a loss. When I finished the story with a drink in this house next to Icarus, both of them began to comfort me that no one from there would hurt me for sure and Wojtek Cejrowski may be a raptus and exaggerated with these hyenas, but as I know he was a little drunk and he has a golden heart and iron alloys. That yes, they would prefer me not to spread the word about everything I have seen, but I look like a reasonable boy and there is no need to arrange some dramatic shootings here, but we will get along somehow in a human way. They make me a thick line and forget that I drugged Wojtek in the club and I forget, or at least I do not spread, information about what happened to me. Well, I am relieved to ask if I can keep the shoes because I have become attached to them and they are clear. I was completely satisfied with this arrangement and I wanted to go and they suddenly ask me if I know about the Internet, so I say it's clear that I go around different pages and I know all the best memes like fuuuuuuu, alien from comics, egeszege, rugby fox, kitty that cries and baconlightkoroz * ebany.gif. Kwaśniewski looked very happy, but Michnik still asks if I know the spelling well, I am proud to say that in the 2nd grade of junior high school I had third place in the spelling competition, but why are they asking about it? They say that they need someone to run a fanpage on their Facebook page because the Kwaśniewski foundation has nothing like that, and Wyborcza has it and even a lot of likes, only those editors who keep some mistakes there are all the time and they would need such a trusted young man who knows about these things, and that I would get a total of PLN 5,000 from them for part-time every month, I would have my own office in the new headquarters of this Kwasniewski Foundation somewhere near Warsaw and I would also have a business scooter to get there, because there is a piece of it, and as a bonus, I would get a Multisport card to go to fitness or something. I never dreamed of such money in my call center, so I say right away that it is clear that I agree and I can start even tomorrow as they wish. Michnik says it's great and then tomorrow I would go not to work just to see what the office looks like and meet people because tomorrow will be open, and I ask what because I thought it was the joke that Cejrowski was telling, and Michnik says, that this foundation near Warsaw and all their friends I met will be there - Macierewicz, Rysio Kalisz, Kłopotek, Wojtek Cejrowski and other famous people and the premises will be blessed by the bishop of Kielce Ryczan and tzadik Ozjasz Goldberg. He also said that they would send someone to pick me up in the morning to pick me up in the morning and take me there because it's hard to hit and they haven't bought a scooter for me yet.
Kwaśniewski summarized that then everything is agreed and he asks if he should drop me off somewhere, because he is just going to the radio Tok FM at the invitation of Paradowska Janina, and I say that then I would be grateful because I live in Dolna, so it's on the way. Only I will turn right from Belwederska and he will turn left. Michnik asks Kwasniewski to remember about their contract and that Kwasniewski smashes his forehead and says that he actually forgot and explains to me that he became the ambassador of the WHOLE POLISH RUN action, which is organized by Gazeta Wyborcza because he lost a bet with Michnik and now he must as this the ambassador will run everywhere, and in that case he will only change his shoes and instead of driving the car he will take me on a piggyback and we will be there for a moment. We went out on the street, I jumped on the former president's back and we fly. He held my ankles so that I wouldn't fall off him, and people waved at us every now and then on the way because Aleksander Kwasniewski is the best according to public opinion polls rated president in the history of the Third Polish Republic, so he asked me to wave on his behalf to these people, as I have my hands free. Well, I was waving the citizens and when we were running near the Belweder Palace, even the soldiers saluted us and I felt the frog well. From tomorrow I start a great job and this is how I won my life thanks to an initially unpleasant story. During Christmas, New Year and Fourth Density, I wish you the same anonka!