Chilled with my droogs from the Yowelli crew a few days back, drinking the old moloko plus knives, rode a tiny bit, doing trooky (stunts that is) on the ol' chetvert of pipe, a real horrorshow like. We malchiki took turns riding out malenkiyi bicycles up and down the ramp, right right right, most fun times.
My tovarish Greg showed up with his real horrorshow vicious and noviy Ducati Monster, most beautiful motozikl that I, your humble and noble Narrator, ever put my glaza on, and I got to sit on the sedlo real nice like and rev it up a quite bit, twisting the ol' handle real good like with my rooka, creating very gromkoy sound for zhiteley in the delicate neighborhood of plywood and plastic, making me want one like 8 milliard times more, except all my pedal velocipeds would be wicked zli at me, Bog knows it. Maybe I won't tell them, but I know they will uznayut one way or another, the savage beasts they are, O my fair brothers.
Oh yea, I'm reading A Clockwork Orange by the way.