At Boy Bar, the bouncers, two tall, emaciated young men with shellacked hair under their bowler hats, were standing just inside the door to escape the cold.

Bitter fighting took place for Gimry, the home both of Khadzhi-Murat and Shamil. A highway ran along here, which permitted us to bring up artillery and to subject the aul to preliminary bombardment. We did not fire at any specific target, but if even half of our thirteen hundred shells had landed there, there would have been only a heap of ruins in place of the aul.

Did he get stabbed last night? — Yeah, he got got.

[…] the only two expressions that come to mind are clitting off and tickling the bearded clam