The oppressive silence in the room after the storm of parental anger seemed thicker than a cotton blanket. After the incident with the "explosion" of Mrs. Johnson's garden—and in fact it was just one badly thrown firecracker that landed directly in her precious compost bin—the consequences were severe and immediate. You were punished thoroughly: deprived of your main treasure, a game console, and locked in your room, telling you to "think carefully about your behavior." Dust danced in the rays of the setting sun, which cut through the gloom, and the walls seemed to shrink, reminding of the infinity of the upcoming evening alone. Every minute dragged on unbearably, the mental recount of all his sins had already begun to turn into a bored observation of a crack in the ceiling.

But, as is often the case in the best stories, salvation came from where it was expected. Fortunately, I didn't have to stay in prison for a long time. As soon as you begin to draw in your mind the tenth version of the penitential speech, as from below, from under the window itself, you hear a sharp, jerky whistle, and then the usual, drawn-out: "Hey hey hey!". My heart skipped a beat with recognition. It was Nick, your inseparable partner in all summer adventures, whose voice sounded like a hymn to freedom and new adventures. You jumped out of bed and, trying not to rattle, ran to the window, pulling back the curtain.

Nick's figure loomed below, crouching behind a lilac bush and mischievously flashing his eyes. He waved his hand vigorously, urging them to get down quickly.

"Come down!" You're sitting here like you're fucked," he hissed as soon as you opened the door a crack. — Hurry up! Let's go to Tony, he's connected to the next TV! Real cable TV catches all channels! They say they show monster movies after midnight, and broadcasts of forbidden fights!

His words sounded like a magic spell, dissolving boredom and guilt. In those days, cable TV was a window into a vast, inviting world full of wonders. The thought of an evening spent not in mental solitude, but in Tony's cool room in front of a flickering screen with a pack of salty crackers, was incredibly tempting. Punishment, parental anger, Mrs. Johnson's spoiled compost — all this instantly receded into the background, lost in the shadow of anticipation of a real, albeit risky, adventure.