Motto: Paragliding is better than married sex.

    I'm just opening an envelope with a red strip. Now I can read ... a divorce suit ... a break-up of a marrige was given rise to paragliding which the defendant went for all his free time ... the defendant is an asocial and as far as I know he meets paragliding pilots exclusively.

    I realized after several long years of married life that I look over my wife much less and other women much more. I didn't want to work out this affair by a rash love relationship and because it was shortly after a velvet revolution, the wide offer of new magazines helps me a lot. Thus I cancelled a subscription of two favourite magazines and I used this saved money for buying new magazines at Main railway station secretly. I realized shortly after that, it strengthened my desire much more. 'You are an intelligent, think!' I speak to myself while drinking the tenth beer. My building of a garden pond didn't bring an expected result. My wife learned to swim very soon. The construction of the sweat room seemed to look much hopefully. You can imagine a broom blocking the door accidentally, while the inside temperature reaches 110°C. But it's hard to believe what women can stand.

    Then a coincidence helped me. During a visit of my injured friend in a hospital I found out, that I'm a totally stupid man. 'Look mate, bugger women, it's the same with all of them,' claimed my fiend expertly. 'Paragliding is better than sex.' His words got across. I divided double bed after that induction course and moved myself to the loft to gain a peace. I watched the sky through a dormer not to lose any opportunity for flying. How it was exciting when I reached the cloudbase above Cerna hora hill for the first time. And how I felt sorry for one poor pilot, who was seen down on the meadow and I flew above him with enthusiasm.

    My wife found out after half a year, that a lull of an intimate relationship had been strangely long and after a consulting with her fiends she began to demand married obligations. I bought a paramotor that time to be on the top of an unpleasant state and to work out the flying abstinence too. During a flight above the national monument Karlstejn castle I lost my propeller. 'Beast!' I damned my wife. Who else could try to threaten my life?! I blamed her for the incident because I know a quality of Victor's paramotors very well. I sold out family jewels, bought a tandem paraglider and cooked up furthermore. But it was absolutely impossible to get my wife on the top of a hill and that was why I had to demonstrate my happiness from flying and feeling contempt for women always by the paramotor.

    It was hard time, hard years. I had to manage whims of weather (when I was blown over the hill), traps of state companies (when I overlooked a telephone wire after a take-off in a height of four meters) and last but not least whims of my flight apparatus (when the propeller accidentally cut my polex).

    And here I am, holding the envelope with the red strip. I breathe deeply and I know, that it'll be over after a couple of days. I'll be divorced. Eventually I can terminate this stupid paragliding which is an absolutely asocial sport. I can take off for Marry as a free man finally. Marry is my old platonic love and now I can pretty fuck her at last.

    Meanwhile my friend broke both his legs and I'll go around the hospital to thanks him for his advice. Thanks Pepa, it worked out!