I arrived in October to visit my brother. It is worth noting that his brother lives in a small provincial town in a private house. On Sunday they decided to fry shish kebabs in his yard. I began to burn the firewood in the grill, while my brother in the kitchen was engaged in meat and seasonings.
A neighbor appeared. He was hanging on crutches and stood in front of me. Acquainted. It turned out that he became disabled after he was hit by a car. The legs partly moved, but without crutches, he could not walk anywhere. Briefly, his wife is a bastard, and the children are those ungrateful scum. And nobody needs it. I promised him tasty shish kebabs and beer in the evening. He did not refuse, but asked me to bring him to him. On that and parted. Well, that is, I stayed, and he disappeared.
The coals turned out excellent. At this time a brother with skewers appeared. Briefly told him the story. I began to be interested in my neighbor, to which my brother just waved his hand: "He is a simulator, he really broke his spine, he walks quite normally, but only when no one sees him." He loves to be pitied and grumbling.
I did not really believe in the history of my brother, because I saw the dystrophic legs of a disabled person, and I really would not lie in that voice. Although not so: I was 95% likely to feel a lie, but that person did not exactly lie.
An hour later I brought the promised beer and barbecue.
The next day (Monday) his wife went to work, taking with her kids. I had nowhere to hurry, for the holiday was just beginning. I noticed a disabled person. He walked pretty confidently about his plot without crutches. He took something in the shed, got out of it, squatted down and lit a cigarette, stood up briskly and walked into the house with some kind of package.
That's what makes shish kebab life-giving. I knew that meat gives people energy, but so ...