My father’s friend decided in the distant 90s to sell an apartment and buy a house. Well, to the garden, farm, all the business. We then raised chickens, and he turned to his dad to help with advice, which and how much to take. His father told him to pick ten chickens and one cock, and the man went to the bird market. Bought, satisfied and brought home. After a month, she calls, complaining that the chickens are not carrying.
They went. We come to him in a barrel and slide down the wall from the chicken: nine cockroaches proudly walk around the chicken, and a unfortunate and completely crazy chicken runs into the corner.