My name is Oscar, I have sent my cancellation letter to the organisation for the elderly demented people. I was a volunteer and it was far too hot in their place. Some of the co-workers were not exactly emancipated and not neglectable loud. Each week there was a loud explosion. And it took a week to gather my brains. I didn’t say that in my letter but I am curious for the answer.
I left home at an early age, at what age I do not recall, it was such a long time ago. I thought myself better company than the rest of my family.
I like clothes. Not all the clothes. I like to buy my clothes cheap, because I don’t like to spend money. Last night we talked about chickens. That they grief over a passed relative or neighbour. That they can become friends with another species. Like the little black chicken. The little black chicken lived in a chicken coop on a farm in the middle of Portugal. The other chickens decided that she was the black sheep. So they picked on her. The farmer took the little black chicken out and let it walk loose. She decided to live together with the farm dog, in his little kennel. The dog was perfectly fine with that and each morning he got his egg for breakfast. The chicken lady got her feathers back.
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