White City Murder Expo

In 17 years, Butcher never mentioned anyone he could call a friend in our conversations with me.I once thought that his life would always be like a black and white photo, without any color parts, and that he would accept this constant and regular loneliness, just like me.

In our house we have a timetable that doesn’t need to be written out: bake pie in spring with leftover apples in the basement; swim in the river in summer; settle accounts in autumn; , I sat next to him in the rocking chair and listened to him read those long poems mixed with the crackling of firewood.

Isn't this a bad day?

I don't know the necessary point of being social, but I don't want Butcher to be mad at having a stuffy parent, so I'll start by saying yes.

"A classmate from your school?" I asked again.

"Yes," he said, "but one class below me."

The next day, Butcher brought a girlfriend home.I was inspecting a bitumen-sealed rat hole in the corner, and this morning I saw a rat circling frantically at the base of the wall, making a horrible squeaking sound, and ran away when I heard my footsteps approaching.I didn't catch it, you can't expect a cripple to outrun a mouse, but I put a piece of expired cheese with arsenic in there afterwards.It will return, for this is its den, and perhaps its mate and children murdered by pitch, though never to be seen again.

When I heard Butcher's footsteps, I said without looking back, "Look, rat hole."

And he said, "This is my dad. Hey dad, this is Petra."

I turned my head, my expression must have been ugly at the time.This girl named Petra smiled at me, and that smile was hard to tell from any angle.

Petra has brown skin.At dinner, I asked her daddy was a nigger.Why would anyone want to marry a black man?At first, I thought her mother must be very ugly, but when I looked at Petra herself, I thought it was really hard to say.This bastard with green eyes, if born in the Middle Ages, might have been hanged as a psychic witch.She doesn't have a snub nose, she has a small fleshy nose, Petra's whole person is like a chocolate cake with a lot of weight, a precocious slutty girl.

After dinner, Petra offered to do the dishes, but Butcher was supposed to be doing his homework, but he dropped his business to help her.Not knowing what fun it is to wash the dishes, Petra kept squeaking and laughing, leaving a puddle of bubbles on the sink and the floor.Then Petra went to Butcher's room to do homework with him. I walked by the door eighteen times and heard laughter fourteen times. What the hell are they doing?

Petra is, frankly, I don't like her.But Butcher was almost entirely captivated by her, and he paid her far more attention than he had for me in seventeen years.It's not that I'm jealous or anything, but I have no doubt that he'll fail college if this goes on.

Not far from our house is the Union Livestock Center, Butcher.I want to say to him many times when I see them getting bored together, Butcher, don't let me see you really become a pig killer.

I can't really tell what she was like, Petra, this rambunctious little brown lady who came to dinner every Friday evening and made us coffee with milk and sliced ​​baked bananas that her grandma had taught her.She can count tarot cards, and I asked her to do it for me. She glanced at me and said with a smile: "You are not suitable for divination." But I insisted.Petra was stubborn too, she did it without telling me what the card meant, all I knew was that it was the only time she put away her smiling face.Then she put the cards away, tapped her fingernails on the table lightly, tap, tap, tap, as if she wanted to knock on a door that didn't exist.

One Friday, when she was sick and didn't come, I sat across from Butcher in silence, and I actually felt a little uncomfortable.

"How is she?" I asked.

"Who?"

I glared at Butcher, "Petra."

"You really cared about her, Dad," Butcher said.

I don't know why, but he doesn't look very interested. Did he catch a cold?

Butcher went out the next day and came home with a box of handmade small cakes in his hand: "Petra specifically told me to bring them to you. She asked if she could come back for dinner after she recovered from her illness?"

Never come!I thought to myself, but what came out of my mouth was: "Of course."

The following Friday, Petra arrived as promised.I forget what it was, but the three of us were very happy that day, so we had wine at dinner.Butcher, the useless little guy, got drunk right away, and then Petra, whose half-drunk eyes, I found, were as beautiful as emeralds and made one want to take them off.

She propped her head up and looked at me, giggling: "Sue, your eyes are very similar to Butcher's. The same blue eyes."

"You're drunk," I took away the wine glass in front of her, she reached out to snatch it, but she just grabbed my wrist softly, "He and I are father and son, it would be bad if we didn't."

"Really?" she said, dreamily. "You always seem to hate me. What's wrong with me?"

I raised my head and drank the remaining wine in her glass, swallowing very slowly. I didn't want to answer her question, but she asked again.

"Nothing like that," I said.

"Really?" Petra leaned on the table, stood up unsteadily, and pinned one side of her long hair behind her ear.She stared at Butcher for a long time, and probably no one had told her that being drunk revealed all that was intended to be hidden.It was then that I suddenly discovered that she loved Butcher.I can't say why, but this love must be much more than Butcher's for her.There are a lot of lunatics and witches in Latin America, and I don't know if Petra is one of them.She was both a little woman and some kind of half-learned demon, somewhere between human and animal, and I stopped breathing for a second for her.The momentary breath holding was captured by her.Petra put the back of her hand to her forehead, sighed, and walked around the table with her arm lightly around my neck.

"Where's your room, Sue?"

Petra is most likely a woman who can read minds.Before I could say anything, she sat on my lap and pressed my upper and lower lips with her index finger.

"He's drunk," Petra said, "and so are you, and so am I."

The strength and intensity of the young woman almost overwhelmed me.When she pushed me on my back on the bed, my mind was still dazed and dizzy, and her kiss fell down, smelling of sweet wine.I ducked twice, and the third time she tried to kiss me, I put my arms around her waist and held her against me.Kitten, I thought dizzily, and faintly heard the rattling of toes as the mouse sprinted by.

Sound travels subtly differently in different media.Through a door, Petra's voice seemed harsh, but when she was giggling in my ear, I suddenly realized how much I wanted to hear it again, and listened to it again, and listened to it again.

I didn't think the two of us would be so compatible, maybe—Petra, Peta, half-blood witch, she should not be Butcher's lover but mine; maybe she can coax anyone to inhabit her Under the body.There is an almost love potion made of these things: the laugh of a young woman, the meow of a she-cat, the long hair that falls on the pillow, the red marks on the arm from scratching nails.A masterpiece of a complete madman.Most of all, it's all about betrayal.My Butcher, the taciturn boy, I suddenly remembered sleeping soundly downstairs, knowing nothing about it, and no one even thought to throw a blanket over him.

"I know what you're thinking, Sue. I could be a good girl, but I don't have to," Petra's lips pressed against my ear as I climaxed, "because your family is shit."

What, Peta?I was panting, and for a moment I didn't realize what she said.Petra was like a cat, but also like some hot smooth hairless monster, straddling me, her hands on my face, closing my eyelids, and then I felt the woman Soft hands gently grabbed my throat.

As my Adam's apple rolled in her palm, Petra said, "Honestly, I hate Butcher Sides and I can't even like you."

Why?I asked.I know there are gratuitous boredoms in this world, but it shouldn't be like this - I'm still in her body, and she clings to me, even though one hand is on my neck .

Petra said, "You know whose name he whispers in my ear?"

Before I could answer, she got up from me and finished her final evaluation while getting dressed: "I heard about a city that was flooded by volcanic ash, and later scientists found it from under a house that had turned into ashes. The bones of two people holding each other tightly. Let me say, Mr. Sedders, maybe in 1 years, people will find you father and son rotten together. You should die like this, not both. I love. I'm not a fucking double coffin."

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Although it is No.1, the character's point of view does not represent the author!Sue is an old white man, evil, the wicked father is destined to be raped X

ps To provide you with a meal replacement idea, Su Yi looks like Zhan Yimei who is not bald.Can you understand now why everyone fell in love with him? ()