I grinned at him. – Anyway, the party in the sewers ended with a sudden friendship with a goblin. He even showed us

secret passages and told us about his problems with rats

stealing his carrion. And in the morning I was woken up by a

call from the police – it turns out that one of the neighbors heard screams from the manhole and called the squad. So I

had to explain to the officers that we were just celebrating a birthday with a goblin. Of course, they didn't believe it. But after paying the fine, we were released.

17.

Ignat laughed. – Wow, you've outdone yourself!

Friendship with a goblin from the sewers is something new!

"Yeah, Ignat. Now I'm wondering if it's worth celebrating a birthday at all. I'm afraid that next time I'll meet aliens or summon demons from hell. It's better to just sit at home and watch TV.

–Well, well, don't swear," Ignat smiled. "Maybe next time you'll be able to make friends with a unicorn." Or at least with an Internet troll.

–Unicorns and trolls… I'm afraid to even imagine what it might lead to,– I muttered, finishing my orange juice. Each time the stories became more absurd, I seriously considered consulting with a specialist. – Anyway, after that sewer, I decided to give up alcohol and crazy parties. At least for a while.

A week after…

18.

Ignat, as always, listened with a half-smile. "So you've really become a good guy?"

–Well, almost. I tried. I signed up for meditation classes, started running in the mornings, and even tried

vegetarianism. However, he didn't last long – the bacon

won. You should know how delicious it smells after a week of abstinence," I confessed. – But in general, I was on the path to enlightenment. Until fate intervened in the person of my new neighbor.

Ignat raised an eyebrow. "A neighbor?" And what, he turned out to be some kind of supervillain?

– No, it's worse. He turned out to be… a drummer," I whispered, as if uttering a terrible curse. – And not just a drummer, but a death metal drummer. At three o'clock in the morning. Every day.

Ignat nodded sympathetically. – It sounds like a personal hell.

"Exactly. I tried to talk to him, asking him to moderate his enthusiasm at least a little. But he only replied that

"music is his life" and "art requires sacrifice." My complaints to the police also led to nothing – the noise was within the acceptable level.

19.

I sighed. – Anyway, I decided that I need a plan. An ingenious plan that will allow me to get rid of this drum hell. And then I remembered my new friend. Ignat grinned. "A goblin from the sewers?"

–A goblin from the sewers." And anyway, he has a name,

Breivor, I hope I pronounced it correctly. I thought that he probably had connections in the criminal world of the

Underworld. And who better than goblins to deal with a noisy neighbor? I explained. – I went down to the sewer and told about my problem. He listened to me sympathetically and promised to help.

"And what did he come up with?" Ignat asked, without losing his enthusiasm.

– Breivor said that he knows a rat band. Rats, he says, are very musical animals, especially if they are properly

motivated. And then one night, when the neighbor drummer was particularly upset, I heard… music. No, not death metal. It was a cacophony of squeaks, screeches, and screeching. A rat band performing jazz improvisation on trash cans," I said.

"Rat jazz?" It sounds like the apocalypse," Ignat commented.

20.

– That was the case with my neighbor. The rats surrounded his house and staged a real concert. The drummer ran out

into the street in a rage and tried to disperse them. But the