With fatherly tenderness he slapped me on my knee with a large muscled hand, the kind you’d find on a geriatric blacksmith, and looking me straight in the eye, said: “I can see that you boys are stoned, but don’t worry I am not gonna tell your commander about that. No way. But I’ll tell you what, boys, now, right now, right this very second, boys, while your bull-headed Russian minds are learning the Armenian nuance with a little bit of help from ancient Caucasian herb, right this very moment in your life you are better positioned to comprehend the meaning of stars.
Let me, boys, be your guide for the evening. Let me journey you around the Universe, if time permits …
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