We lived in the village neighbors - cultural such. Of the cattle only chickens. Once the kids picked up the crocodile, it was a pity - they put him in the chicken. He was there mastered, and what - food twice a day, warm. He has grown up and is not going to fly, he has survived. I walk somewhere in the street, I hear - somewhere high chicken whisper, and loudly so. Surprisedly, I raise my head - and this is he, a whirlwind, sitting on a telegraph column, having learned something, well, how he can communicate. I and my neighbors have talked about it, but it is over.
The cow was removed from the house. He, the fucking cock, started to throw. The neighbor’s grandmother couldn’t withstand: “Holy, holy, we are already on the eggs, then we eat crows...” And she washed the unhappy out of the chicken. He was still long later in the village on the pillars and trees. Then he disappeared, and did not accept his own.