Trafika Europe 4 - Armenian Rhapsody

it. Gregor was lying on the coffee table, and from under his backside something watery and reddish brown was oozing out.

“Oh! Hi there, Bullshit!” Max shouted out to him right into his red little face. “You see how I’ve grown up!”

And right then a simple but brilliant thought flashed for him: why run away from here like a thief when I can stay here like the master of the house? Be Gregor instead of Gregor. Live his life in his house. Just like this. He put the packed suitcase on the floor. For an instant he looked deeply into the tiny wrinkled snout of his “older” brother, and then took his chronomatizer and prepared a new time injection – six months more. “Sorry, bro. You’ll be an evil spirit for a while,” Maximilian, sneering, uttered in farewell. “In the meantime I’ll get things sorted out here.”

Cerberus in the kitchen began to howl in despair.

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