Just give birth to pickles

When X came in, he was holding a needle, which contained a green jelly, which had the texture of Guiling jelly, but he claimed that this must be injected into the meat, and everyone should inject it.I asked him why, and he said it was because everyone hit it.

X is a thin and tall Han man, holding a needle in one hand and lifting his heart in the other, impatiently throwing it in the air a few times and catching it again, connected by a short wire, he is not afraid that the heart will fall and get dusty on the ground .Everyone in the room took that needle, including my pre-monthly brother, except me.Because at that time someone shouted: "Dead!"

X was the first to run out, after all he has long legs.He grabbed the best thing, a heart.Now he has two capitals to show off. He put on the thread, held the two dark red hearts, and turned them like walnuts. He turned them twice, maybe because he felt uncomfortable, so he opened his chest , Put them all in with a snap.

Every part of the dead man had been snatched, except for a head and ten fingernails.

Ten nails are bouncing on the ground. According to the logical reasoning of the facts, the nails can't be bouncing, so this is fake, and they didn't grab the meat.It is impossible for a person to have two hearts in his chest, so this is also fake, he did not steal his heart.The human head placed there is just a stone that cannot be chewed and no one will chew it. This is logical.

I rely on this logic to look at it all calmly.

When I was making mouth-watering soy milk in a noodle shop, I met Y.He stood next to me and watched me pick up the big spoon for scooping up the soy milk, and the spoon was raised and lowered. I was carrying the soy milk and prepared to give him the place.At this time, I saw that there was no palm under his arm.I hesitated for a while, thinking, does he have hands?He wears shoes on his feet, and it is unlikely that he would take them off in public and eat between his toes. The restaurant he went to sells noodles, and he needs chopsticks to eat noodles, and at least two fingers are needed to make the chopsticks, but now he Not a single finger, all bare.So, it's illogical and false.That means he has hands.

I put the spoon down and go outside. Y stopped me: "Can you take a bowl of soy milk for me?"

I suddenly became nervous, and there was a question that I had to ask: "Do you have hands?"

"I haven't," he said.

When the boss is on the top, he has a bowl and I have a bowl, and sits at the two ends.I just want to see how he eats noodles without hands.He looked back into my eyes and said coldly: "You shouldn't do this to a disabled person, please sit at another table."

I stood up, only to find that the walls squirmed and squeezed in like a large animal, the doors and windows disappeared, and the light was no longer there.Not only was it difficult for me to move forward, but I was even pressed against the table by the soft and fat wall.In order not to break my waist, I could only grope and stand on the table.Before long, even the space on the table was shrinking, and I was forced to sit down and lean forward, looking for a space that would allow me to climb in.I leaned my head on Y's shoulder, I could feel the strength of his body and the strength accumulated in his muscles, smell his body, and his face appeared in my mind.

Fortunately, everything is in the dark, otherwise how ridiculous would my posture be?

Then it came on again.

The wall was white and far away from me, and I was sitting at a table, hugging a man of my gender.Yes, I hugged him.This had to make me withdraw my hand in embarrassment and apology in the white light.

"I'm done," he said, with a bowl of noodle soup in front of him.There was no oil around his lips, and there was an oiled, folded sheet of paper on the wooden table.I don't know if this counts as logical mutual evidence or mutual destruction.Because I don't have hands, I can't origami.

He went straight out, and I went out too.But it was a strange scene outside, I had never been here before, and I didn't know how to walk back.He goes left, I go right.However, there is no road on the right, and a black current hits me, so I can only run wildly in his direction.It was dark again, I was blinded by the black water, he straightened my body and pulled me back.I could feel it, it was a pair of hands.

"Do you have hands?"

"I do not have."

"But you pulled me, how did you pull me without hands?" I gasped, feeling black water poured into my eyes, nose and mouth, not even my ears were spared.

"Okay, I have hands." After he admitted, the black flow faded away again.

"Well, I have hands." I admit it, because I do have hands.I pulled the person who was repeatedly tormented by the hallucinations, and walked towards home.His name is Z, the only person named Z around here, I know him, and I know, he likes me.I held him in my arms and confirmed with him again, "I have hands."

The two men in the back are hugging each other, I don’t know what they are doing, but I know what they are saying. One of them said that he has hands, and he said it twice. Is there anything worth emphasizing? I also have hands. There are four.I am tan, a crossbreed, the least pure of the impure.I walked to Z's house and sat on a chair in his main room, exposing my belly.

Suddenly, someone screamed: "Z has no clothes on!"

I looked at myself, and sure enough I was not wearing any clothes. The man named Y came in from the door, pulled a tablecloth and covered me.I saw that he had hands, but I... didn't have hands. He ate the bowl of noodles, but I avoided the action of eating noodles in the darkness of my imagination.My younger brother, who is not yet full moon, stood up, pointed at me and said, "Z is a piece of shit, can he be cured? Or don't give it up."

"If you don't want it, just give it to me." Y lowered his head and put his arm around my shoulder.

I lowered my head and hugged Z's shoulder.

Maybe you also have doubts, you want to know whether Y has no hands or Z has no hands.You may also want to know who I really am.I am neither X nor Y nor Z.

I am a dog.

The author has something to say:

Between Paragraphs, Pseudo-Stream of Consciousness at Narrative Turns 233