>”Hello Anon!”
“Hello Desya, good day we are having eh?”
>We both chuckle at this, in Russia, good days are rare, and this is not a good day.
>The freezing rain comes down in a soft trickle, landing with patters and splashes around my feet.
”One of these days Desya, we are going to have a beautiful sunshine, and we are going to run around and play in the, eh.. Streets! If thats what we can call them.
>Desya bursts into laughter at that comment, the days may be dreary, but a steady flow of Alcohol and camaraderie make things alright.
>”Goodbye Anon, I will see you later ok? Dont get too drunk while you are out!”
“Im not sure if I can do that, you know me!”
>Slipping and falling all over the place in the soaked “streets” I found one of the true miracles of life.
“Fucking bitch! Look at this shit!”
>I bent down and picked up a true masterpiece of man.
“One fucking Ruble? What the fuck is this shit? I must be god's favorite if im just getting money from the ground.”
>”HOLLA HOLLA GET DOLLA!”
“COME BACK HERE WITH MY MONEY YOU FAT SACK OF SHIT!”
>I dont like fucking running, but then here comes this god damn hoodlum speaking in his Jew words stealing my money.
>”HOLLA HOLLA, HOLLA HOLLA”
“I think it is time to kick this shit into “for real mode.”
>Sprinting after this kid in my drunk state brought me to a dead end alley with his back to the wall.
“Holla holla, my ass. Give me my fucking ruble.”
>Slowly encroaching on the thief's space I backed him into a corner.
“My ruble.”
>The kid handed me my money and I backed off, he sprinted off down the alley and into the street, tripping on his way out.
“Another day, another sack of shit taken care of.”
>Continuing my walk home was uneventful enough, I was done having fun for the day.
>”Hello anon, you have a good day?”
“Too good, I need some rest.”
>”Hehe, alright Anon, go get some couch time.”
“I will, and you should too Borya, the sun is going down.”
>Fumbling around in my pockets I found the normal items of the day.
>A few different types of protection, I had my father's beloved Makarov, my switchblade and my co.. hehe, yeah nevermind that “protection,” that isnt something you really talk about.
>Finally finding my keys in the mass of illegal substances and items flooding my pockets I inserted my keys into the door and opened it.
“Oh you fat sack of shit. You fucking didnt.”
>Sitting at my feet was my favorite pillow, torn to shreds.
“KIRILL!”
>I hear this huge cacophony of shit falling over as my dog bounds around the corner of my living room.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO.”
>Kirill just sits there with this horrible grin, just sitting there like nothing fucking happened.
“You keep up that shitfaced grin and im going to make sure that you eat shit for the rest of your life.”
>I may be quick to words, but I hardly ever stay angry for long. A pillow is a pillow, this may be my fucking favorite pillow but it can be replaced.
“Keep smiling motherfucker, I control your life.”
>After cleaning up the shit that my dog somehow managed to destroy I went into the kitchen to make some food.
“Im sorry to do this to you, but you need to learn to be more careful Kirill, and you arnt learning from your mistakes, so im going to have to start punishing you.
>Normally I would set down a bowl of food for Kirill to eat with me, but today I think he can wait.
>Just laying under your kitchen table Kirill had an eminence of sadness.
“Be happy im even letting you eat after that mess you made.”
>No comment.
>Finishing up my bowl of Easymac and hotdogs I poured out some dry dog food.
“Now you can eat, and now I can sleep.”
>I walked to my room and looked at my bed, no sheets, just a blanket and a pillow.
>I found over my years as an official adult that you really dont need sheets, I always kick them to the bottom of my bed anyway.
>Rolling into bed and pulling the covers over me I drifted to sleep while recalling the day's events.
>Today was a good day, excellent for Russian standards.
 
>Waking up to the international workers anthem.
>”It is time to wake or you will not get paid.”
>Repeating this over and over again, the infernal machine rambles on in its foreign language.
>Throughout your lifetime I have come to understand this one line very well.
>I slammed my hand down on the alarm clock and got out of bed, as to not fall asleep again.
>I spotted Kirill sleeping on the couch as I was walking through the living room to the kitchen.
>I gave him the finger, not through anger but through annoyance of his events to come.
>Like readying your missiles before you are attacked.
>Reaching into the fridge I pull out a bottle full of coffee and pour it into a pot on the stove.
>Turning the burner to high, I go sit down at the kitchen and start on a granola bar from the pantry.
>Chewing on the “Quaker oats” gets your brain running for the rest of the day.