When he was a small child, they were very poor,but had a rich landlord. He was always hungry. He got up at night, crawled into the landlord's chicken empire and stole an egg from the hen that sat under an old Singer sawing machine.
This is autobiographical flash back.
We lived in one room apartment, one yellow bulb hung through the dusty spider webs, scattered with fly carcasses , like Christhmas decorations. Whitewashed walls were painted in yellow strips by the rainwater that oozed through broken shingles. I slept on a piece of rattan covered with a a gray blanket and a sheet, under a broken window mended with brown paper. Wind rattled the ill-fit door, day and night. Everythig smelled chicken poop.Lice gave me the itch. A rooster woke me up withy his falsetto. Herr Kraut, the landlord shouted,
Gratchen!Gratchen, were bist du?"
"In die latrine meine Bube."Sprinkled with well water, my face came alive.I sneaked into Herr Kraut chicken empire, and under a rusted Singer sawing machine, found my daily egg.
Stories Worth Wiping Your A** With
Whether you're making a deposit at the stank bank, dropping a return at the squat shop, or conducting a brown business meeting, these perfectly timed tales provide the literary fragrance your privacy deserves. F
Stories Worth Wiping Your A** With
Whether you're making a deposit at the stank bank, dropping a return at the squat shop, or conducting a brown business meeting, these perfectly timed tales provide the literary fragrance your privacy deserves. F
