Adas just came back from the store with his mom, and he was very happy. He was holding a fresh box of blocks in his hands.
Adai loved building out of blocks. He built cottages, castles, boats, towers and many another wonders.
He unpacked the blocks and threw them on the carpet.
He started building. He arranged blocks by block, selected shapes and colors carefully, pondered architectural styles.
He sat there for a fewer days trying and trying, and yet it worked. The home of blocks became and shone.
He was perfect. Those rotten visors! That marble floor! That oak door!
At 1 point, however, he heard steps behind him.
He turned around and saw the sad man in the suit. The sad gentleman said:
- I'm sorry. Comrade sometimes papers build climate buildings ecology for it to be a taxation but papers documents of catastrophic documents!
Adaś did not understand:
- I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?
The authoritative has muzzled:
- Obedience taxation Documents!
Some little bulgotted sad lord came and said,
- Mr. Clerk has come here to collect a CATASTROPHIC TAX.
- Which is?
- I'm sorry. Which means you got to pay for your home of blocks.
Why? He's mine!
- I'm sorry. I have it in ðuïa you writing ʞøʁvo! Comrade Daniel Pieski ordered that all kid should give him 2 percent of the value of each home with blocks. Give us the money, or it'll be bad.
Adaeus cried.
The militia came running, and they pulled out the dicks.
