Idiots and Angels is a 2008 animated feature film by Bill Plympton, about 120 minutes long without a single line. Typical Bill Plympton-style wild, manic, lewd imagination, unconventional perspective expression, as well as evocative sound effects and good music taste. The following is a recap I wrote for the animation, which can also be read as a novel, titled "Birdman" -
this is every morning, every morning. It's not that the morning stand is just an illusion caused by the alarm clock in that position jumping up on time. It dances and makes the sheets uplift, a pillar of blue sky. He stretched out his hand, went deep into the sheets and chased the words, making it seem like he was about to jerk off, making it look like it was real, and all he could pull out was the alarm clock. What can I do, I have to throw it aside. Throwing it to shreds, it still kept barking. However, the position of the words was calm, but the bird became arrogant again. This time it was a real, flesh-and-blood bird, standing at the window. Damn bird.
Take a shower, wash breakfast, enter the garage, start the car, join the traffic flow, and scramble for a parking space, as if every bastard's standard work procedure. It's just that the door he entered, who was in a straight suit and carrying a serious suitcase, was not a Fortune 500, but a tavern with extremely poor business.
It was an unremarkable day, the moment the problem was moving out of the garage. A chrysalis hanging upside down on the top of the garage threshold felt the vibration of the engine and the gravity of the earth falling smoothly into his head, in the hair that resembled a mop, and was finally carried to the empty tavern.
It's not empty, at least there are two or three people, even if it doesn't count him. An extremely fat woman is playing solo poker or tarot cards, the blond waitress seems to be dragging the never-clean floor, and the boss is waiting for the alcoholic who will never come. This city, a small city, has ten taverns, and the competition is fierce.
If only making sounds can be counted as a person, then the small color TV hanging on it should also be counted.
He's not a bad guy, and certainly not a decent guy. Just before he entered the pub, he killed a goddamn car that robbed him of his parking space. He tore off the owner's tie, stuffed it into the other's car's gas filler, which is the car's asshole, and struck a match. What else can I do, don't be polite to this kind of guy. The person who grabbed the parking space fled in panic, but the explosives that had ignited the fuze would always explode. Such an explosion occurred far away after escaping, making him shine brightly with his back facing him. Now he sits alone at the bar, staring through the amber whisky on ice at the scrubbing blond on the floor. The boss entered the private room, and he kept running inside because there were no guests. The blond figure swayed in the cup, mysterious and seductive. So he went to her. He mounts her.
He rode her like a cowboy, she was a rebellious and fierce horse. Nice play, nice game. Their shadows were entangled on the wall, and they couldn't hold on. At the moment of Guan Jian, she bit him hard and bit on the back of one of his hands. As the horse beats the cowboy, the boss sticks his head out from behind the door of his private shack. The boss doesn't need to know what's going on, he just needs his clerk to get along with the customer and shake hands to make peace. How much he cherishes every existing customer. He only has such a ready-made customer. The failed cowboy grabbed a bottle of ketchup and added some on the back of his hand. It was very good, and it felt like a bloody crime.
The boss grabbed the hands of the clerk and the customer and approached each other, but only fists approached. Touching and boxing was better than being naked without gloves. I tried several times to no avail. In the last collision, the cowboy suddenly stretched out his index finger and inserted it into Lie Ma's clenched fist. The nasty movement caused the blond to shout and punch him in the face, but unfortunately it was cut off by the boss when it got close to his nose.
He backed away triumphantly, returned to the bar, and resumed the interrupted whisky. At this time, the chrysalis on his head stirred up, and as we all know, the chrysalis turned into a beautiful butterfly.
The smoke in his hand was like the lush smoke from a crashed plane. The smoke in one hand and the half-empty wine glass in the other hand took up all his thoughts, and he had no idea what drama was going on.
The boss caught a glimpse of the new bow in his hair, and his mind immediately flew to the business strategy. It is better to change the name of the pub to the Butterfly Bar and hang up the promotional slogan "Look at the living butterflies", and the guests must be lined up. When the team came, I gave them a glimpse of the butterfly with my chains on its wings, and I started handing them out whiskey. Then I count the votes.
The fat woman looked at it, probably just recalling the past, or a simple fantasy. She was encased in a large shell and carried out like a pearl to the jazz music, she flung her butterfly cape to reveal her plump figure, twisted and twisted on the stage, and immediately, the men applauded, flowers He ran to the stage as if he had long legs, and the diamond jewelry was raining beside him. She was puffing on the smoke, which was a chimney with huge smoke. she thought beautifully.
The blond mopping the floor thought of the free air. In the air of flowers, she and the butterfly, which was magnified hundreds of times, ran towards each other, and finally hugged her, and finally it picked her up and flew away. . She stared at it and smiled, what is that not freedom?
Finally, he himself finally found the elf above his head, from the mirror opposite. He stretched out a forefinger, the one he had just punched the blond fist, and carefully stretched it out to the butterfly above his head. Butterfly stretched out her slender legs to test it out, and climbed up on that finger without hesitation, and then crawled into his palm. The three audience members felt delighted when they saw this scene. I'm afraid the reason is that they haven't gotten rid of their fantasy.
The three spectators smiled. He smiled. smiling. Then he clenched his fists sharply and crushed the butterfly to pieces. The faces of the three audience members suddenly showed expressions of horror. Fragments of butterflies fell and scattered, and it was a storm, just quiet.
And then every morning that was the same, the alarm clock was screaming, the bird at the window was screaming, everything was screaming, and he got up and took a shower. Touch your body, damn, what's on your back? A weed? It can't be pulled out, it's as solid as glued on with 502! Looking in the mirror, there are not only one, but one on each side. One on the fucking side, like a goddamn white bean sprout. He gave a hard heart, picked up the razor, and the safety blades fell, and they lay down on the bathroom tiles, bleeding sadly. And the two scars on the back look like the marks left by the demon after being sawed off by the demon's horns.
He came to the pub where business was extremely bad the day before. All his life packed into this tavern is the size of a speck of dust. The fat woman is still playing cards. Blonde played the small color TV, took the boss into the gap of the private shabby room, adjusted the channel, and finally switched to a black guitarist who was bouncing and jumping. Amazing music floated out of the box, and the blonde hair danced with it. In her interest, she jumped on the bar and performed selflessly. The grip of the mop in her hand made people mistaken it for a steel pole, and he went a step further, imagining that the girl was naked, and he jumped up to dance with her, like A snake swirled around her, and her tongue turned into a mop to lick her body. Except, all of a sudden, there's no rhythm, and the guitar black person becomes a baseball player. It was the boss's hand that changed all that.
The lost rhythm blond hair stagnated in the air and fell to the bar. He reached out and she fell into his wrist. Holding her, he stood up, unusually calm. The boss came to them. The boss pointed to the photo on the wine rack. At this time, a guest with abnormally constricted and dilated pupils pushed in the door. It was not an easy group photo, but the newcomer got all the attention. The newcomer did not adapt to the dim environment, and walked around in a staggered manner, looking like a drunk. He had put her down, forgetting the process. The newcomer had fumbled around him, and he had to move his suitcase to his other side. The new arrival was not the one he was waiting for.
The newcomer has a big opinion on his smoking. The newcomer took out the newspaper that had been folded several times, spread it out, fanned the smoke away, folded it back, took out a pencil to draw the Chu River and Han world between the two, took out a lot of pencils, and set it up like a door. The cannon, who thought the shell was not sharp enough, sharpened it a little bit, and proudly blew off the sawdust stuck on the nib of the pen. The newcomer is doing all this stuff, just getting ready for the damn crossword in the paper.
The final step in preparation is a big drink. He "accidentally" threw the cigarette butt into the new wine glass. The cigarette was like a buoy, and the sparks floated up on the wine surface. The new one "turned a blind eye". The buoy with sparks entered the throat, and along with the flow of wine, the wine completely entered the stomach, but the cigarette butt was about to jump out. The scalded throat muscle was due to jump back into the cup like a rocket that was launched and ignited. The ominous air in the cup. The cup flew into the opposite mirror under the advancement of the fire wave, and was embedded there, and the newcomer's head grew out of fire. The blond carried the bucket of water that was mopping the floor and poured it on, but the helpless newcomer had already shaved a monk's hairstyle.
He was also a little surprised. He accidentally knocked over his suitcase. The box was wide open. The newcomer must see what was in the box. Xiaolu was surprised, but his attention was immediately picked up by the boss, so he took the opportunity. Close the box.
The boss encountered a mirror of misfortune. It was seven years of misfortune. No matter who it was, he extorted a sum and counted the green bills with joy. The newcomer walked to the door soberly, dragging a long line of white smoke that had been extinguished by the open flame above his head, standing at the door and waving his hand fiercely.
Another day, it's time to take a shower. That bastard's bean curd has grown back, and it has grown a little bit bigger than yesterday. He was amused. After thinking about it a few times, the bean curd can still swing under his own will, as if beckoning. Incredible, he figured out what it was. One pair of wings is destroyed, another pair is rewarded. Damn, it's a pair of little wings. He tugged at them as hard as he was trying to grab the cold nipples of an old witch, but he didn't pull off a single hair. In the end, he planned to use two Band-Aids to stick the two arrogant little wings down. It didn't work, the Band-Aid was thrown away with blood and tears. He pondered, his fingers tapped his chin, he pondered, he still used a woman's method, a woman tied her chest, I tied my wings, and wrapped a bandage around my chest. It's finally normal. The interrupted breakfast started the car and backed out of the garage and drove up the avenue, pushed open the door of the bar and sat in the old seat, those little chicken wings were not in the way, for the time being. Everything is normal, the poker is still a fat woman, the blond is still cleaning the floor, and the boss is still doing nothing.
But wait. Something is wrong. Her blond face was covered with blond hair, and now she stretched out her hand and stroked the blue silk, ah, mother, a pair of beaks. What, the fat woman is also smoking with a bird's beak. One more look, oh no, a whole bird head. God, the antique paintings on the walls also have duck beaks. In the small color TV, an eagle head is swinging a bat. Boss, boss, my God, the boss is such an eagle head!
He closed his eyes and smoked a cigarette calmly for a few seconds. When I opened my eyes, I was startled again. He rubbed and rubbed his eyes vigorously, but he couldn't make a mistake, the bird shadow in the cup, he also put a bird's head on it. Plus a pair of small white wings that are just about to move. His back was really restless.
The two hills on the back bulged out like a prostitute hidden under the sheets, twitching and twitching. The only three outsiders in the tavern noticed the situation and immediately burst into laughter, costing him all his dignity. Under the offensive of the boss and the fat woman, his clothes were torn off, and his ridiculous little white wings were exposed. The boss and the fat woman immediately acted as chickens should react, and launched a more deadly attack. Laugh at the offensive. Even the blond woman joined the barrage of ridicule. He felt embarrassed, he felt like a thunderclap. He felt angry, he was shaking with anger. He picked up the glass and splashed them all over. He blushed, and he crushed the cup, just like crushing the butterfly.
Then, clenching his fists, he walked towards the door dejectedly, like the newcomer from yesterday. He seemed to remember that he looked up when he wanted to go out, yes, how could he resemble that person. When she was about to reach the door, she was cut off by the blond hair. She opened his palm and gently removed the glass shards one by one. And gave him the clothes rudely stripped from him.
He grabbed the clothes, covered the ugly little white wings behind him, and ran away. He ran extremely fast, outpacing all cars going at full speed. He ran into a clinic, into the elevator, kicked away the woman he was riding with, rode alone from the sixth floor, bypassed a long waiting line, and ran straight to the female receptionist to demand special treatment. The hand that was pierced by the glass was bleeding like a column, and the receptionist was startled, and subconsciously pulled over the clothes that covered Xiaobai's wings and wrapped it up carefully for his sadness. Because of this, Xiaobai's wings were unobstructed, and the mockery of the pair of little wings was also seen at a glance, and immediately boiled in the air.
The receptionist nurse laughed especially hard. The thought of the doctor who heard laughter opening the door to signal quietness was not a laugh, but a smug laugh. The doctor dragged him into the consultation room and dismissed the last patient in his teens and 80s within a second. The doctor thought of the great glory that the Winged Man's astonishing discovery could bring him, showing him in front of the world, getting thunderous applause and newspaper headlines, or a big kiss from a nurse. The doctor took X-rays on this winged man, and the bones of the wings are actually connected to the spine, how amazing! An even more brilliant idea came to the doctor's mind, and he himself made the headlines. He decided to give full play to his superb medical skills, steal the pair of wings, and transplant them on his back! So, the doctor suggested that the wings be sawed off, and the chainsaw was ready right away.
He decides to be slaughtered, to get rid of the shame. But apparently shame has its own strong sense of protection. The high-speed rotating chainsaw only got close to a small piece of the wing, and it slapped it into the air. Although it was as small as a chicken wing, it was extremely powerful. When the chainsaw fell, it smashed into the table in front of him, and the sharp serrations were buried in the table, penetrating the wood for three points. He jumped up and fled the clinic frantically, as hastily as he had come.
The doctor didn't go after him, only holding the roaring chainsaw, stood at the door and smiled silently, watching him flee. It's so conspicuous, so conspicuous, it's hard not to be found.
When he ran into the street, passersby were all in the same panic, and even the dogs barked at him. He jumped into his car, heartbroken, and rushed into the sea of traffic. I ran back home and locked it into the garage with my car, still running the engine high, and after a while, black smoke slipped out from the crack of the door and the window. He didn't last long before breaking through the window. Suicide is not the way to go.
He lay on the grass, suppressing his wings, which tossed him. When he looked back, the wings had grown a little more. The mother bird, who scratched him every morning in the nearby tree, was forcing her young from the nest. The first chick was pushed away from the nest, and the chick flew up and flew for the first time. The wings grew a little bigger at an unusual speed, and he tried to flap them with a great revelation. He carried a long ladder and ran to the roof of his house.
Wriggling like a caterpillar on the roof ridge, crawling to the end of the roof ridge, standing up, shaking like an epilepsy. Another reason for this dynamic is the wind. He listened to the wind. The wings have become bigger and bigger, like instant noodles soaked up by time. On the other side, his alarm clock bird has picked up the last cub of his own, and threw it out of the nest with its small legs. The chick was falling, her eyes wide open, terrified. The process is as long as the end of the world.
He watched crash. Ready to crash. Desperately flapping his wings, he warmed up to the dream of falling. He made up his mind, but couldn't bear to look. He covered his eyes and jumped down. But the process of the crash was exactly the same as that of the young child, with his eyes wide open and terrified. On the other side, the chick landed successfully and smashed a hole in the ground, sinking deep into it.
The horror of that failure made him flap his wings even more desperately. Finally, above the tip of the grass, he hovered. As soon as he fell, he flew into the sky. The failed chick waved to him and expressed congratulations.
He was very proud, suddenly proud. He flew triumphantly up the clouds and bumped into a bloated plane, the passengers waved to him, but he showed his butt in disdain. The passengers were enraged, and they parted ways. Then he came back from the upper realm, passed over the heads of people on the street, found a single woman, grabbed her purse, and flew back to the sky.
There was a large stack of green bills in the purse, which was pleasing to the eye, but before he was addicted to his hands, he rolled up the purse with his wings and threw it back to the woman. He only froze for a second, and immediately hit another target. Half naked women are sunbathing. He was completely erotic, looking for the wrong target. This is not a single naked woman, but his husband is always guarding him like a knight with a shotgun. Besides, he hadn't even spent a second thinking about the unusual behavior of his wings, how could he have lost his thoughts so obliviously? He dived at high speed towards the target like a falcon.
Look no further. The wings immediately stretched out to cover his evil eyes, and he exhausted the strength of both hands, but he couldn't open them no matter what. Damn it, wings, damn it. I'm not an angel, I'm not a goddamn angel, don't get in my way.
He swirled in the air like a drunken swallow or a mosquito with knotted wings, and fell into the net of wires between two poles, like jumping into an electrified hammock. To make matters worse, the naked woman's knight shot at him, strafing, obviously just a shotgun, but it was a Gatling machine gun. The wires were entangled in him, and he couldn't get out, but it was the rain of bullets that helped him free.
The bullet cut through the tangle of wires. He freed himself from the wires, pulled away, nearly smashed his alarm clock bird's nest, and fell to the ground, as if the flight had been a dream that never happened. He looked back at the wrinkle that had fallen to the ground earlier than him. It was no longer there, only a hole and a few pieces of feathers remained. A big cat was squatting by the pit, licking its small mouth and looking hungry. stared at him. He woke up suddenly. Flying is stupid, flying is stupid.
The wings are incomparably large, the little white bean sprouts and the pale chicken wings are already the yellow flowers of yesterday, and the records have been refreshed again and again. Now he has to tie them with iron chains, go round and round, and finally add a lock, making it look like It's wearing a virgin hood. He put on his suit, picked up his suitcase, and stepped into the same pub again. He was still waiting for a deal.
The last time I stepped into this tavern seemed to have happened a thousand years ago, and I sat down again with this feeling. The huge wings were locked behind him, hidden behind the clothes, but it only made him look a little hunched, not particularly weird. The two ladies were somewhat surprised to see the humiliated person reappear, but the boss had poured iced whiskey for him as usual. The boss also brought a pickled egg, shrugged his arms, hid his hands under his armpits, swayed his elbows, and showed him a chicken-like appearance to laugh at. At this time, when one person came in, the boss immediately stopped and greeted him with a smile. Finally a customer came to the door, wait for a thousand years!
This is a big beard, like Tolstoy's piled up a white beard like cotton wool, looking at the fierce look on his face, he doesn't look like a writer. The condition of his head shows that he is a skinhead. Beard patted him on the back and whispered a few words in his ear. He thought that he had finally waited, pointed to the seat next to him, left the bar, and both sat down.
He put the suitcase on the table and opened it. All kinds of pistols stuffed into the box, the real deal.
Beard's eyes lit up, he touched this one and that one, and he fell in love with it in an instant. Entering the bargaining session, he stretched out four fingers and was pressed to three fingers by the other party. Unable to hold on, he even started to fight, the gun spun back and forth in the hands of the two of them, and the muzzle was aimed at the faces of the two of them. In the end, he finally got the gun back, and the muzzle was firmly aimed at the bearded man. The bearded man smiled, showing a pair of front teeth, took out his purse, opened it, and revealed a few green bills. To say the point, green bills are nothing at all, and silver bullets occupy most of the space in the purse.
Paying the money in one hand and the gun in the other, everyone is happy. But when he finished counting the money, he still seemed to be missing a few pieces, and found a hole aimed at his head, causing the imprisoned wings on his back to wriggle nervously. Beard took his suitcase and all his guns, he was a failed arms dealer, Beard was a shrewd buyer with a big bargain. The bearded man walked to the bar with a gun and a suitcase, and pointed the gun at the boss's forehead. Put a gun on the cash register, and immediately the green ticket bullets came out. He took out a sack and threw it to the boss, and the bearded gun moved to the boss's face again. This is robbery. The boss immediately filled the bag with money.
After cooperating, collecting the purse, the butt of the gun did a good job, the beard knocked the boss unconscious, and the blonde took advantage of this complacent opportunity to turn over the beard with a mop. The bearded man got up nimbly, picked up the suitcase full of arms and threw it, smashed his blond hair to the ground, and grabbed the sack of green bills and ran away.
He retrieved his suitcase and sat back at the bar. Look at the boss and the blond lying on both sides of the bar, then lean over and pry out the wine bottle from the boss's clenched hand, and drank it to calm down. After two sips, he looked back at the blonde who fell to the ground. Tears flowed from the corners of his eyes for some reason. The things on his back became more restless.
The wings struggled to get off the chain in just a few seconds, and when he came back to his senses, the damn wings had already danced wildly. He desperately grabbed the edge of the bar, and the flapping effect of the wings behind him was like a hurricane blowing in front of him. Finally, he let go and flew around the bar involuntarily, and the shadow he cast was like a butterfly, crawling on the floor.
He stopped mad, or his wings stopped mad. Stopping on the edge of the blond hair, one wing picked up her unconscious, and the other wing fanned her. He didn't understand why it was like this, but when it came to this woman, his wings were not calm. Fan and fan until she opened her eyes slightly, then he carried her to the bar and laid him flat on the bar. Then the wings took him out of the tavern without stopping.
Bearded is sing-along in the cars on the avenue. His wings took him close to the antique car with the gas pedal slammed, and the flapping of the wings pressed him to the roof, and he had to stretch his arms around the roof to prevent it from being thrown off. But Big Beard slammed the brakes wisely, and he completely ate the mud. He rolled on the road, screaming, and when the inertia disappeared, the car caught up with him, ran over the end of his wings, and disappeared in a flash. He sat on the ground, covering his face with his hands. He thought it was all over, but suddenly the wings flapped again. He is an uncontrollable jack-up, and he is an angel forsaken by God.
His wings took him to continue chasing Beard and his antique car. The car went through a series of land bridge tunnels, and he had to keep avoiding those obstacles, jumping up and down involuntarily, until he was flush with the car, and the end of his wings finally stretched into the car and the bearded hand scuffled for the steering wheel. , he felt completely mad, covered his ears and yelled hysterically like a bitch.
Beard pulled out his gun and shot him, his wings carried him to the roof of the car. Through a piece of iron, the bearded man fired several shots in a row, and after a few shots, there were several holes, and a few rays of light leaked from the holes. Wings took him away for a while, saw the gunfire disappear and ran back with him, like it was an engaging game. A game that attracts the dead. This time the end of the wing tugged at the door handle. When the bearded man saw a big truck approaching, he cleverly opened the door, and waited to watch the excitement with a terrifying smile on his face.
The door looked like a ripped wing flying off the bearded car. His wings took him to somersault in the air, but after a short turn, he immediately chased the bearded car. Simply bewildered. Leaning in, his wings reached into the doorless car, tentacles entangled in the bearded arm that was controlling the steering wheel. Beard's idea was even better, opening his front teeth and nibbling on his wings. The pain in the wings spread to him, and he held his head in a heart-wrenching pain.
Wings decided to change tactics. Flying away from the car, he flew further ahead, and then he suddenly turned around and headed for the bearded antique car. His face slammed into the bearded car window, his eyes, nose, mouth, teeth and tongue were squeezed together in pain. Before it was over, Bearded pulled out his gun and was pulling the trigger towards him. He was terrified. In general, there is no way to dodge it, but it's a pity that the beard just ran out of bullets.
Losing his sight, the car snaked through the waves on the road like a yacht, as if a snake was hurriedly looking for an exit in a winding cave. Finally, with a bang, the antique car finally hit a big tree on the side of the road and stopped. The inertia took his wings and took him to fly away, and the big beard also took his big beard and broke out of the window. The beard and his beard were separated halfway, just like a rocket separation. Wait, this guy, this guy I know! He realized. Beard turned out to be the crossword freak, he burned his hair, he created him, he wasn't Bruce Wayne, but he created the two-faced man. Oh damn.
Wings didn't allow him to feel a lot of emotion at all, and immediately ordered him to go to the dead car to get the sack of money back, and then let him continue non-stop after a run-up. Superman is nonstop. He had tried to hold on to the stem to resist fate, but the will of the wings was far above his fate. When he was taken back to the pub by his wings, the road was crowded with Whistling Police cars heading to arrest the bearded man. Heroes never show up.
It was a large sum of money, and he had the heart to pocket it, but the will of the big wings could not be disobeyed. He had to cover his eyes with his hands to reduce the pain of the money handover. Wings handed the money back to the boss. Then the boss hugged him in gratitude, although the boss was holding his wings rather than his body. The boss has a selfish desire to take the wings as his own, which is a violation of the past ridicule. The two ladies also stepped forward and hugged him, when he was one of the big heroes. All of a sudden he was in awe. He wants to completely remove his wings and return to his previous life.
He went back to his terrific restroom, tied up the wings, hoisted them, and pulled the chainsaw. He clenched his toothpaste tube, and the toothpaste spattered like incontinence as the chainsaw slashed his wings behind his back. Wings were sawed off, so that he had to be kind wings were sawed off, like a butterfly, a butterfly in captivity, a kite tethered indoors, a blind angel, fluttering in grief I got up, tightened the rope and was strangled even more painfully. He pulled the rope back, pressed his wings to the ground, and stepped on his doom. The scene was red except white.
The two scars left by the residual wings on the back are like a pair of innocent eyes, with blood and tears flowing. He was indifferent. He threw the wings into the trash can outside the house, clapped his hands and went back home, sweet home.
The pair of sacrificed wings were picked up by the clinic doctor who had been waiting for a long time, and they were immediately sewn onto his back, but those were just dead wings, and they immediately returned to dust and soil, withered like fallen leaves.
The alarm clock and the bird woke him up again, it was another morning. A great sense of happiness came suddenly, and he threw the alarm clock at the window, but missed the son of a bitch. He got up, wingless and light. The huge imprint left by the old wings on his bed was stamped as if his shadow had long since been stamped. Wings are the unbearable weight of life. This is the best proof.
After taking a shower and leaving the pub, everything finally returned to normal. He rushed into the pub happily, and the pub also welcomed him happily. The boss stepped forward and patted him on the back. He didn't feel his wings, and for some reason he was lost.
The boss put a few ice cubes in his glass and filled it up. When he had wings, he was full of hallucinations, but now that he has no wings, hallucinations still refuse to let him go. The cup on the bar suddenly shot out a ray of light, rising into the sky, and the ice cubes in the cup soared, as if it had been hijacked by aliens. The wine was still in the glass, the ice cubes had disappeared without a trace, and the glass was glowing alone, like a lamp that was going to blind him. He habitually covered his eyes with his hands. No, no, I'm dreaming again.
No, no, not my hands covering my eyes, but my wings covering my eyes. Oh my gosh, where are my hands! I don't understand, I can see clearly in the mirror opposite, what's wrong with me. He put his hands in his trousers pockets, made an effort to cover up, and withdrew his eyes from the mirror, turned around, but was surprised to find a head sticking out of his lower body, and then half of his body, also a suit Leather shoes, and he fought hard for the control of the body. He suppressed the other, momentarily, lighting a cigarette, trying to figure it out.
He stared at his own shadow in the cup and thought, thinking that the figure in the cup turned into a bird's shadow in the cup, exactly the same as last time. Then the cup dragged his hand, took care of himself, and then, like a gun, aimed the mouth of the cup at his overly surprised face. He waited for the bullet to be fired.
Suddenly, a strong wind blew open the door of the tavern, filling the tavern space with feathers or leaves. He watched helplessly as the bird's face, which was reflected on the wine face in the glass, emerged from the glass, and then looked at him. The wine on the wine rack was disturbed by the demon wind, and many fell and shattered. The boss took care of himself, hoping to reduce the loss somewhat, just like a rehearsal of fate.
The Egyptians said that the soul of man is a bird, and his soul is the bird in front of him. His hands are growing on it, and the wings of his soul are growing on him. In his brief astonishment, his soul bird followed the uninvited demon wind and exited the tavern in an instant, disappearing without a trace. Has he been abandoned?
He took a long sip and regained his senses. All around it was business as usual, the blond hair and the small color TV came out with music and danced with a mop, and the boss was expressing his dissatisfaction with this. The woman was smoking a cigarette and holding an inexplicable poker in her hand, watching the battle that took place on the button of a small color TV. Everything is a dream, everything is a dream. The awkwardness between the boss and Blonde caused his tears to suddenly flow. Blonde was obviously at a disadvantage. He stuffed the tears back into his eyes, but they flowed out again, leaving him helpless. Just let it fall off the table. The chandelier with the hat dimmed a few times above his head, like an angel halo around him.
His back was restless again, and there was nothing he could do. I had to let it grow, and then took him to fly randomly in the tavern, the shadows on the ground were still like butterflies. He flew towards the arguing boss and the blonde, relieved the disadvantaged blonde, and flew out of the tavern with her in his arms. Soar into the sky.
They kissed on the clouds, and the birds sang to them. Although the clouds are shaped like poop, the wings also support such kissing, so everything becomes natural and romantic. Then he took her back to the pub.
The boss welcomed the return of the blond with a smile, and hugged her into his arms involuntarily. The blonde struggled, and the boss couldn't resist the struggle and pushed her to the ground. He stepped forward to pick up the blond hair, the boss's fingers poked his back, and once again showed him the extraordinary group photo. Photo of the blonde with the boss. wedding photo.
He leaned over, approached the boss's annoying face, and was probably ready to beat him, but the sudden sound of a chainsaw interrupted the hero saving beauty. The doctor came, the chainsaw roared in his hand, and her nurse was staring at him with a rope tied, and the boss was naturally eyeing him even more. In the first round, his wings were a complete victory, and he beat the boss, the doctor and the nurse in turn.
In the second round, the doctor attacked him from behind and tied his wings with ropes. Although he broke free, this time bought the boss time. In the third round, the boss knocked on his suitcase, pulled out a gun, and shot the bullet. The blonde tried to stop it, but it didn't work. The bullet slid in front of her and shot at the man she might have just fallen in love with. His wings tried to intercept the bullet, the wings folded up and piled up to his chest, but the bullet lightly passed through the wings, buried in his body, passed through his chest, across his heart, and flew out the other side of his body , brought death to him. He turned into a real angel, soared in a beam of light, and failed to make it to the end, fell to the ground, drew a broken heart in his own blood, she came up to him and kissed him, and he lost his life sign.
The blond ran out the door, leaning against the wall in pain.
The doctor immediately lifted him onto the bar table, ready for on-site surgery, and marked the intended transplant site with a fork on his back. But obviously someone had a better idea. The boss pointed the gun to the doctor's head and pointed to the same fork at the same spot on his back. The doctor's mind is spinning fast, whether he is on the stage as an angel to receive the cheers from the crowd or as the creator of the angel on the stage to receive the cheers from the crowd, there is no difference at all, the honor belongs to him. So the doctor readily agreed to the unreasonable request of the boss.
His wings were pulled out of his body along with his vertebrae, and only in this way could the wings not wither helplessly like the last time. The boss got his wish, triumphantly fitted with angel wings, against a bloody backdrop.
Since then, always on such a deep night, the wind is always so tight, blowing off the first leaf, and more, a woman wrapped tightly into the cemetery, no matter how windy or rainy; it is the same night, Smeared with black wings, they fly into the night sky of the city every night, and the boss pulls a grenade into the chimneys of taverns. The reduction of competitors means that business is delivered to the door; the alcoholics who were burned by terrorist attacks all run to the clinic, let the The doctor also made a lot of money.
Although Wing has tried to stop the boss's evil deeds, it is obviously one foot higher than the devil. According to the original idea of imprisoning the butterfly, the boss imprisoned the wings, tied the chain, and used pain to drive the slave, a godsend. After the boss blew up the last tavern next door, all the business of the drunkards in the city got his wish and all belonged to him.
The alcoholics who were wrapped in bandages like mummies made the boss ecstatic, and it was night, he sent them out, and even wanted to bring the ecstasy to the blond, he sprinkled the air with green bills, as if to After a complete transformation of the air molecules, he tore off his clothes, revealing his dark wings, rushed forward and hugged the blond hair, giving him a strong kiss. The doctor advocated for the tiger by the side, blocking the small window with his body to prevent light leakage, but obviously he couldn't stop the blond's scream. Because of this, the drunkards who went out gathered again and came back to see what they were wearing.
This was probably the boss's happiest moment, but the fatal kiss was starting to make the boss nauseous at an inopportune moment. The boss began to vomit wildly, and even planned to spit out his liver. But after he vomited, he went up to kiss the blond again. The blonde screamed again, and this time not only the alcoholics heard it, but also the unknown thing in the boss's stomach. The boss's beer belly swelled, rising and falling like mountain building. Something is about to break out of the cocoon. A pair of wings burst out.
The owner bounced between the walls of the tavern like a ball with two pairs of wings, and finally hovered on the ceiling. The doctor wanted to drag the boss back to the ground, but he was not high enough. The doctor pulled down the curtains, climbed onto the bar, and started running from the long table. With the chandelier wearing a hat, he hugged the boss's legs and forced the new pair of wings in the opponent's stomach as he pushed forward. It was stuffed into the small color TV on the wall, and people who didn't know it thought he was having sex with the small color TV. Wings are excellent conductors, stealing electricity from the square box of the broken screen of the small color TV, and the boss is electrocuted with sparks. If only making sound counts as a person, so should a hysterical little color TV, and the boss is committing a crime against it, and he is punished by capital punishment for the crime.
The boss was pushed back to the floor by the electric shock, and he got up from the ground with smoke billowing from his stomach. The wings had been charred into two black projections. Then something more terrifying happened.
The boss' belly button is like a switch that snaps and heralds his impending birth. The boss watched helplessly as a strange face and scorched wings emerged from his stomach, which made him extremely painful rather than frightening. The new life, like excrement, finally shot out like a cannonball, piled up with disturbing things, as if the ugly intestines had been scattered all over the place. Wrapped in the human-shaped sac like a stomach bag is the person the boss once killed. He was reborn.
He was reborn in the ardent hope of the blonde in his usual suit, wingless, but with eyes open indeed. The boss got jealous, rushed forward and pushed the blonde hair away, pushed him against the wall with one hand, grabbed his neck with one hand, and put the extraordinary box photo in front of him with the other hand again. Then the boss filled him with old punches, and it was in such old punches that his wings swelled a little bit with the rhythm, like a sudden growth of Jack peas.
The duel between the two winged birdmen was staged in the tavern, and finally the white wings pressed the black wings under him. Seeing that the situation was not good, the doctor stepped forward and suppressed Bai Wing. By analogy, the blond hair is on the doctor. The Fat Woman was the final blow, leaping in a total home run stance. The alcoholics outside the door seemed to be watching a top baseball game, so lively.
Those mummy drinkers broke into the door and smashed through the small door of the boss's private room. Gasoline, grenades, and the bar capture map were finally revealed to the human eye. After a moment of silence, the alcoholics finally let go of their anger. The desperate boss still didn't forget to climb the height of the wine cabinet while holding the cash register and dragging his black wings. Sitting on top of the wine cooler, smug. But it didn't last long, the wine cabinet was overwhelmed by the weight of the enthusiastic drinker who also climbed up and overturned, and the boss was crushed.
The liquor in the broken bottle dripped all over the floor. The boss tried his best to lift the wine cabinet, and he was indeed successful. If it weren't for the cigarette, the smoke that came out of nowhere. It fell to the ground, inserted into the wine, and the sparks were pointing upwards, like a column of incense that was about to burn out. Then the cigarette butt was tilted, and the sparks fell into the wine, causing a fire. The dazzling light seemed to be a prelude to the ascension. The boss was instantly burned into a skeleton with skeleton wings.
The owner's tavern was razed to the ground because of the grenade gasoline and other dangerous objects in his private room. This is the downfall of the last tavern in the city.
Clearly, the sun entered the room again, past, past is just a long sleepless night. He was surprised to find himself standing up in the morning. Not at all the pretentious kind. There just happens to be a clever woman around, and there will be no more difficult problems for a clever woman to cook without rice. The broken alarm clock rang the last few times and finally died. He turned over to hold down his blond hair, his white wings stretched out the sheets and danced like seaweed in the water, so unhappy.
The goddamn talkative bird is coming to watch the fun again. The liveliness it saw was probably like this. After the pair of white wings fanned the last few times on his back, they automatically separated from his body, circled the room of the two worlds a few times, and then quietly slipped out of the window. Go out as hurriedly as you come.
What kind of unlucky fellow will the next person they're desperately looking for be?
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