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On the night of my uncle's death on summer night 8 years ago, I went through a spiritualist ritual, and it was too strange to think about it, and now I remember it for the first time I saw him. In the summer of '04, the village was thin

author:Little pineapple tells stories

On the night of my uncle's death on summer night 8 years ago, I went through a spiritualist ritual, and it was too strange to think about it, and now I remember it for the first time I saw him. In the summer of '04, the thin pond in the village could catch fish and shrimp, and the water was very deep and smelled sandalwood. The older generation in the village said that it was accumulated by decades of rainwater, and when the Meihe River was arid, each village dug such a pond to store water and irrigate the fields.

Don't look at this pool of water is as clean as fast forward, but the peasants and God bite and pour the water that is living water, and Rwanda is my third uncle and my mother. When he didn't get married, he ran to the west with a group of like-minded grandfathers to work as miners, and Meihe Taoist priests also had mines. But he didn't stand in line at that time, but he was squeezed away, and his body and rocks burst together, and the bang blasted most of the people back, and the remaining half and the rubble gathered into a pile of leaky stones.

No matter how you spell it, you can only spell an animal, but you can't spell a human form. A simple squeeze of hemp was pulled to the crematorium, concentrated in a stove, and when it came out, it was divided into 5 cans from the pile of ash, and the name of the canister was affixed to the train to return. Let illiterate white-haired people look at people who identify themselves as black-haired.

That day, I was walking towards Tadpole Rwanda by the barge, pulled two bags of chicken tail rings from my trouser pockets, patted my head and recognized my nephew. He was tall, had fleshy cheeks, and smiled like two pits. The large short-sleeved pants worn in orange are corduroy. Back then, this dress was very fashionable, and now it is trendy, and the eyes look very similar to my mother.

I recognized him as an uncle, I asked him a lot of questions, most of them related to me, I asked him what stimulated him the most to say bungee jumping. I didn't know the concept of bungee jumping, so Rwanda, my third uncle, caught a toad in the grass, the rope tied to the toad's waist six or seven stones to build a barrier, let the toad stand at the highest place, the third uncle's thumb supported the middle finger once the toad fell, and the water fell sharply causing the clear frog tongue to point right on the surface of the pool.

My third uncle often spat out a puff of smoke and told me that you are a toad, this is bungee jumping, and leap to meet your new world. The toad went up and down many times, stopped struggling, and finally fell into a coma. I looked at the toad that had lost its soul and asked my third uncle how to deal with the toad, and the third uncle said that he had blown it up. So my third uncle took the toad and I was holding a bottle of tadpoles back home, my grandmother played mahjong in the front yard, and my father drank a lot of wine in the backyard.

I sat on a wooden stool in the kitchen and watched my third uncle prop up the oil pan and wash the toad with a spoonful of water, and the oil quickly boiled. The third uncle grabbed the rope and threw the toad into the pot, a purple-blue burst out of the pot, the purple-blue smoke was fleeting, the brown-gray toad was blown out of golden yellow, and all limbs were curled up, looking like an old lady who had lost her bones. The third uncle ignored my desire, two or three chopsticks solved the meat in the bowl, my gluttonous drool, but my chest cavity was nauseated. Since then, I have felt that there is something wrong with my third uncle in Rwanda, and I have approached the village to tell him that he has been cursed by a ghost.

The third uncle wiped his mouth with his arm with satisfaction, and his eyes looked at the tadpole in my arms, I felt like he was copying all over the door, but he just touched his stomach and burped, telling me not to talk to my grandfather. This kind of shock caused my young soul to be so shocking that I did not dare to complain at all. On the way home, I tripped over stones embedded in the ground, glass bottles shattered, water spread with tadpoles and gradually drew a map, green light exposure, and the tadpoles jumping around were quickly drained of moisture. The doghouses in the village came to fill them in, and I felt even more disgusted.

I didn't eat a bite of dinner that night, and my brain was full of golden toads, and my father slapped me to tears. My mom started kicking my dad, but it didn't kick my dad's tears out of the smoking addiction.

After two episodes of prime-time drama, my stomach sent a distress signal, rang the two packages of chicken tail rings that 393 gave me, and returned to the house. Closing the rock door, carefully cut the package with scissors, and the chicken tail ring also looks golden against the background of the desk lamp. At this moment, I have forgotten that the toad gobbled up half a pack, and the stomach may not accept the chicken tail ring.

It made me tummy stir in the middle of the night. When I woke up early in the morning, I collapsed like those shriveled little tadpoles, my whole body was glued to the bed, my limbs seemed to be locked by the air, and my brain only sweated and started a high fever. My mom opened my mouth and shoved two pieces into it, parathermic and painful, and gently patted me on the shoulder. Hum some songs for me without words, but I'm sure it's not a lullaby. I went to sleep again and dreamed that Rwanda was getting married, and the whole yard was wrapped in red satin, and I followed my parents to congratulate me. The little ones are not interested in the bride, only in the banquet.

I sat at the round table and watched my third uncle, dressed in a red robe, happily bowing to the bride and wife. As soon as firecrackers sounded, the helpers finally brought dishes, which looked strange and did not look like human knowledge. Until the big bowl was put on the table, what should have been steamed chicken turned into steamed toads. The toads were quite big, and the people at the table competed for it, so I expected that the meat of the entire table was all toad meat.

After escaping the dream, my mother was still sitting on the edge of the bed, with a bib in her hand. I asked my mom what time it was, and her mom turned to look at me, put her right hand to my forehead and said that the fever had subsided, can you sit up by yourself. The two arms began to support the bed board hard, and the back of the waist slid backwards with the butt. I noticed that my body had risen again, and I giggled at my mother.

My mom threw her neck on the bed. Walking into the kitchen and bringing two sweet potatoes, I was a little stunned, because I knew that the skin of sweet potatoes was also golden yellow, I didn't hold back, and spit all the reactionary juice in my stomach on my neck. I haven't been able to swallow the golden yellow since then. The third uncle came to see me when he knew I was sick, and my mother ignored him.

They felt that the soundproofing began to dig into their pockets again, a bag of fudge and a bag of plum, if he dared to take out the chicken tail ring, I would definitely scold him for doing it. I watched him unpack and then throw Mei into his mouth, allowing me to see his tongue, not like a human tongue with cumin, which I suspected was the consequence of not brushing my teeth. He waved his arm to drive away a few flies, saying that I had eaten everything in the past few years outside, mistakenly thinking that if I was poisonous, everyone else would be invincible.

On the night of my uncle's death on summer night 8 years ago, I went through a spiritualist ritual, and it was too strange to think about it, and now I remember it for the first time I saw him. In the summer of '04, the village was thin
On the night of my uncle's death on summer night 8 years ago, I went through a spiritualist ritual, and it was too strange to think about it, and now I remember it for the first time I saw him. In the summer of '04, the village was thin
On the night of my uncle's death on summer night 8 years ago, I went through a spiritualist ritual, and it was too strange to think about it, and now I remember it for the first time I saw him. In the summer of '04, the village was thin
On the night of my uncle's death on summer night 8 years ago, I went through a spiritualist ritual, and it was too strange to think about it, and now I remember it for the first time I saw him. In the summer of '04, the village was thin
On the night of my uncle's death on summer night 8 years ago, I went through a spiritualist ritual, and it was too strange to think about it, and now I remember it for the first time I saw him. In the summer of '04, the village was thin
On the night of my uncle's death on summer night 8 years ago, I went through a spiritualist ritual, and it was too strange to think about it, and now I remember it for the first time I saw him. In the summer of '04, the village was thin
On the night of my uncle's death on summer night 8 years ago, I went through a spiritualist ritual, and it was too strange to think about it, and now I remember it for the first time I saw him. In the summer of '04, the village was thin

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