A short story about a journalist in Russia
I came to write. From a small village
What happened in the village after meeting the old man
He asked if there was a funny story.
The old man smiled. and said
“It’s been a long time, one day, my goat
One disappeared on the mountain.
Just like the traditional way, the villagers gathered and drank vodka
I drank. Then I looked for the goat.
Finally found the goat. As is traditional
I drank more vodkas. And then
All the villagers take turns mating with the female goat
They do. We really enjoyed that day.”
The journalist said.
“This should not be printed.
Is there any other fun?”
The old man smiled. “Yes, there is.
Once our neighbor’s wife was on the mountain
It disappeared. It’s traditional.
The villagers gathered and drank vodka.
And then looking for the woman.
Finally found the woman.
As is traditional, we drank more vodkas.
And all the villagers take turns with the woman
They got married. We were very happy that day
I did”
This should not be printed
Journalist knows. So “another story
Do you still have it, grandpa? Not so much fun
Kind of a story. Or sad
Either way”
The old man’s smile faded.
A shadow of sadness darkened in his eyes.
Grandfather said in a gentle voice.
“One day… I got lost in the mountains“
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