Out of nowhere, a fool came from our village, who carried a bag of clothes and a large begging basin to make her home in a pigsty where others had laid grass.

Some people even took a look at what she looked like after knowing it, that is, the dirty clothes she was wearing smelled and could be smelled when they passed by.

At first, the people in the neighborhood thought she was very pitiful, and it must have been some setback that made her stupid and crazy.

Sometimes she would bring her own food, but not three meals a day, and sometimes she would visit her door, and other good things, such as men would hand her cigarettes and fires.

Because the fool felt the reception, he really didn't leave when he met a good village. A week passes, which is a long time, people will not give alms often, they will feel bored, and they will lose the good feeling they used to have, and the more such people treat her, the more they will close their doors when they have dinner.

The fool is not always grinding acquaintances, but going to people he has not been to and continuing to ask for them, until the whole village is exhausted and then turned upside down.

Because we rejected her and wanted to care about how she was doing now, we would also spy on whether she had left, tell people what we found, talk about who gave her new shoes, new clothes, who knew that the clothes of the people in the village far away from us were stolen, and the shoes were stolen, which scared everyone, no one would ask her, who dared to wear it after she wore it, we would worry about our own clothes and shoes all day long, and even more unprecedentedly, she even stole other people's chickens and started a fire by herself.

This made the villagers even angrier. The people of the village talked together about this great headache, and some of them said that this fool was like this in other villages, but when they saw that she was gone, they would not say anything, and now that she was at large in our village, she should be driven out of the pigsty, and the whole village would be at peace.

The storm finally came, and the pigsty was no longer a place for her. In the future, as long as we meet any fool, we will not give her (him) any sweetness, not even a glass of water.

"The Song of Things" poem, additional prose Chase away that fool is hitting in the hand, please wait a moment,

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