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My body senses that this story has no humorous overtones at all, because certain parts of my body begin to tighten treacherously, causing me to step from foot to foot in order to regain some comfort.

– Margo told me that if I hurt her beloved little sister, she would nail my junk to the floor. Every nail. There were a dozen or two of them, K’Rraig, and believe me, she wasn’t kidding and she wasn’t exaggerating. Imagine what she’d do for the safety of fifty little assholes from the orphanage.

I shuffled from foot to foot one more time, but I still felt as if Margarita Sheremetjeva was already standing behind me. With nails and a fucking hammer.

What the hell is wrong with this woman?

– It doesn’t hurt at all, does it? – I blow on Julie’s scraped knee, and again and again I put a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic on the wound. – There, you see, everything is already fine.

The little girl sniffed her nose incredulously, shuddering mixed with restrained sobs, and dares to look at her knee.