Beavis Will Show Them Yet!!!

The absence of one of the main contenders for the Pro series title at Indianapolis set our newsroom buzzing in earnest. Calls to the administration of the town of Mukhosransk yielded no results. At Shtrafbat they told us to go to h…, and the gates of the B&B team garage were bolted shut.

In the end, having tried, as it seemed to us, every possibility, we sent nascardud a letter asking where he had disappeared to and why he had missed round 9 of the Pro series.

You will not believe it and will surely consider his reply a fake. But when we looked into the newsroom's mailbox, that is exactly the letter we found.

Getting ahead of ourselves, let us say: Beavis is fine. The attempts of his championship rivals to do him harm have failed.

* At the insistent request of our supervisor from WRI, we have replaced the obscene expressions with more respectable ones. After all, children might read this article

"I spent the whole day preparing for the race, dialed in a proper setup (0.6 faster than VH), and was planning to destroy everyone.

Around 6 in the evening something clicked in me to go hit the night spots. Decided to unwind for a couple of hours. Went out, bought a Jaguar cocktail (I drink that junk about once a year), flagged down a car and off I went. Headed for the gathering place of all sorts of emo kids and other alternative types. A two-story club, 4 dance floors and all that. Having jumped around there to my heart's content, and boozed up too, I decided to head home. But on stepping out onto the street I abruptly changed my point of view and went to another club. That one draws all kinds of trashy druggies, sheep, electro-chavs, glam kittens. Got there by taxi.

Entry to the second establishment is free from 4 a.m. I went in, wandered around, but something was missing (had not MADE LOVE* for about three years). Had a drink, and then I see two LADIES* bouncing around next to me. I would not say they were terribly attractive, but they did not have the glam-kitten attributes either. Well, I got talking with them, one word led to another, this and that. We sat down on a little couch. Put my arm around one first, then moved over to the other. We HELD POLITE CONVERSATION* about nothing. You know, who had been to which clubs and so on. In clubs, everyone talks about nothing.

And so I am sitting there, arm around one of them on the couch like in those gangsta videos. Two cretins roll up to the second chick and start harassing her in obscene terms. She tells them where to go. The 2 comrades were drunk enough that they understood nothing from her brush-offs. Eventually they wore us all down, and the girl sitting next to me suggested going to their place. I made a show of thinking their offer over, and of course I agreed. We started getting dressed. But here is the snag: those 2 comrades started getting dressed too. My 2 lady friends and I stepped out onto the street, and right behind us out came those same 2 comrades. I flagged down some Volga, and my companions and I climbed in unhurriedly. All that time I paid no attention to those freaks; they did not concern me in the slightest. But when they started trying to get into the car, I, of course, told them where to go. And the three of us drove off to a rather remote district of our city. On arriving, I paid the driver and remembered that I had no means of contraception. I also sized up the building these young ladies lived in. That is when doubt crept over me. The girls did not look at all like residents of this building. A building with a concierge, while they were dressed far too plainly. I somehow begged off — said I would go get a chocolate bar — and left in search of RUBBER PRODUCT No. 2*. I walked around for about 30 minutes; on a Sunday morning all the kiosks were closed. And then I remembered the 24-hour store. The whole walk took me about 45 minutes. At the store I bought 4 bottles of beer, 12! (they did not come in smaller packs) units of RUBBER PRODUCT No. 2*, and a chocolate bar. I walked out, and then such dark thoughts filled my head. 12 units of R.P. No. 2*, 2 tipsy girls. In short, I walked along thinking about what I was going to arrange for them up there. I came up to the entrance, asked the concierge to connect me to the apartment in question, but nobody answered. Just as I decided to call them by phone, a woman walked up to the entrance and opened the door. And she asked me whether I was going to come in. I was just about to answer no when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw those 2 freaks from the club. I sobered up instantly. Showed them the finger and quickly ducked into the building. Rode up in the elevator with that woman (she got off on the 3rd floor, I on the 5th).

Caught my breath.

I had heard that this is how people get set up, but I could never have imagined it would happen to me. I went out onto the connecting balcony and started calling my friends to come and pick me up. We drank beer. Then I decided to call those 2 damsels. Nobody picked up. I stood there for an hour. Finished all the beer, went down and rang the concierge. Found out that those girls do not live in that apartment. And that is the whole story."