Повесть о непуганных идиотах или как нас чуть...

Tale of neputovanny idiots or how we almost robbed in the Crimea. At the moment, my friends and I are having a rest in one of the resorts on the southern coast of Crimea. True picturesque places, and even I, a skeptical man about all this hysteria around the annexation of the Crimea, are now glad that our country has torn off such a picturesque southern piece of the Earth. My friends arrived 5 days before me. Already settled down and set their own rules. Inspired by the patriotic sentiments, they rated everything with a plus sign. Fascinated by the local beauty, we forgot things like crime and theft. When I arrived, I was assured that it was safe here, and they often left the house open, especially if someone was left to sleep in it. It was the same at night. Our comrade Vova loves to go to the club at night while everyone else is sleeping or indulging in other nightly pleasures. Tonight I went to bed later than anyone. I turned off the light in the whole house and lay down on the bed, where my friend Lena was already sleeping. Then a strong wind arose, and Lena got up to close the slamming windows and take off the laundry from the dryer. When she returned to the room, we began to laugh, that if it were not for her vigilance, my underwear could fly away to surf the Crimea and become a prey to the fetishist. And Lena, in turn, remembered that in Japan, girls donate their worn panties to sex shops, where perverts buy them. At this moment we saw the light from the flashlight and heard the creaking floorboards at the front door. I lifted up on the bed and asked: "Vovinka, is that you?" But still not having finished the phrase, I realized that it was not our friend Vova. On the threshold stood a tall man in black clothes with a flashlight in his hand. Then I calmly continued: "No, this is not Vova, this is a stranger." "Stranger?!" - Lena asked in surprise. Seeing that I was looking at him, the man extinguished the flashlight and hurried to run out of our apartment. I jumped out of bed and ran to lock the door. And as always happens in such situations, the key did not climb into the door well, and I spent another 10 seconds. So our children's illusions about security collapsed. For a few more hours we sat in the kitchen with the lights on and were afraid to tell our friends who were sleeping in the next room the details of our nightly adventure. And in the morning, the owners of the house, in which we rent the entire second floor, told us that the Rostov gang was operating in the area, which was splashing sleeping people with nerve gas and carrying all things from the houses. At the same time, people hear and see everything, but cannot get out of bed due to the action of gas. More door open, we do not leave. Until the thunder clap, man ...