30

"Save a chicken for the morrow," Granny Grozna

  • "Save a chicken for the morrow," Granny Grozna always said. But now I felt pity for the chicken, and hoped for a psychotic fugue-state instead. For I had killed my beautiful cousin
  • Lepyas prophesying chicken Kushka. When I broke the news to Lepya she said "Budala! Granny Grozna said 'Save a chicken for the MArrow!' " So we sucked the marrow out of Kushka's bo
  • oks to get the most out of life and because meat was scarce in Turkmenistan. After that 5 minutes were used up we were bored again. But national pride forced us to displace
  • ourselves to the Anatolian desert where we endured thirst, snakes and scorpions. We finally found a way to catch and cook the snakes, using their skins to catch the morning dew off
  • . The rules for this sport are rather intuitive: whichever gardener's plant is the dewiest wins. We paid for our tickets with our hard-earned snakeskins and sat
  • in the front row. This was going to be a stiff competition. Some world championships of the dew sports were competing. The gun sounded and the games began. Dew began to appear on
  • every conceivable surface in the stadium, first as tiny droplets, but then as streams connecting in networks across the field, the equipment, the athletes' skin. The collecting dew
  • forced a kind of fluid plasma ball right out in the open there, and people began to grow worried as their bodies dehydrated into wrinkled husks. The gravitational force of H2O had
  • shifted so suddenly that the Sunday afternoon beach-goers could only stand flabbergasted, mouths agape, skin flaking away in the breeze as the water churned through
  • I went to the beach for a cold brew i seen a man jogging and asked him, "why are you running in the sand my good sir" and he replied...

0 Comments

Want to leave a comment?

Sign up!