Some military humor: I have a military friend. A polite and law-abiding person. One day I decided to hunt ducks and as expected I went to get a gun certificate.
The latter was a psychiatrist.
The doctor turned out to be strict.
- Were there any head injuries?
- were
- Did you lose consciousness?
- I lost it.
The doctor prescribed something.
- Have you ever owned a weapon in the past?
I held him.
— Did they target people?
- Direction.
The doctor's hand stopped.
- Did they shoot?
- shot.
- into people?!
- Well, yes.
The psychiatrist took a closer look.
"Have you ever thought about killing people?
The friend thought about it. Lying to a doctor is not good.
- They got up.
- often?
- Depends on the circumstances.
- And now?
- Much less now.
The doctor moved back in his chair.
- So why do you want to buy a weapon?
- to hunt ducks.
- After everything you just told me?!
- Because of that. To be honest, I'm tired of killing people. The doctor turned pale and wrote in large letters on the chart:
inappropriate.
Then I decided to clarify the data.
- Where do you work?
He called the department.
- Where did you serve?
call it
- Veteran?
Yes.
- Participant?
Yes.
The psychiatrist looked at it, then at the word "not suitable" and carefully crossed it out.
- So why are you deceiving me?!
- I'm not kidding. You ask, I answer.
- So why did you even come to me?
- Get checked. What if something is wrong with me after all this?
Silence prevailed in the office.
A medical dispute arose.
While the civilian was given a machine gun, ammo and assigned a mission, his mental balance wasn't much of a concern. But as soon as that citizen wanted to shoot Drake on his own, the home medicine immediately demanded to prove that he was sane.
The doctor sighed heavily, trampled him and said:
- Go.
- Am I healthy?
- Go, I said.
So a friend got a certificate.
He is now officially mentally fit to hunt ducks.
Because the state trusted him with people even without a certificate. Papa Cat in Max.