Old Man Eating Paint の小説・ストーリー

"Madam Albright, I want my child to be smart—best if it's a boy." A man with a beer belly sat politely across from Grandma. She replied, her face devoid of emotions, "It's 100,000 dollars per request." "Of course. That's understood. Don't worry, Madam Albright." Grandma pulled a piece of paper toward herself after the man agreed to the deal. … Grandma and I only had each other. She would paint every day, though her paintings were mediocre, to say the least.

He always feels like a kid in his presence, it feels he still thinks he's a kid. After eating quietly for a while, Rowland eats little. He does not want to have indigestion later after eating so much. "Rowland, I need to use the restroom. I will be right back." Old master Lin called his secretary and he help him out. "Who uses restroom while eating. Old master Lin sure is old now." Rowland muttered.as someone enters to pack up old master Lin food and replace it with new plate, cutlery and food. "What is going on?" Rowland asked

"Are you fucking kidding me? So this is all about that painting? It was terrible as fuck. It wasn't even the real Buddha painting." "What do you mean?" The man asked. Clearly surprised. "It was just a g****e search sort of image, painted in Photoshop to look like real art. Jesus! And you think there is a puzzle? I just found a small notebook of the old man stuck in the back of the portrait. It was a little diary of nonsense. An old poem of some kind." A dreadful realization crossed Dave’s mind. "How did you... What have you done to Eddie?" He struggled against the ropes in the chair, but he could barely breathe, much less withdrawn. Thunder rolled outside, following a flash of brilliant lig

He neglected the pains in his body and settled to enjoy his meal, never knowing who owned the farm or how long the pomegranate seeds would satisfy him for. An aged man walks with his cane in his hand, stomping the ground with the base as he walked, letting the cane be his support as he moved. He sights a young man who devours his produce. He thought of it that his eyes played tricks with him, yet he strained to understand they didn't. Those were his fattest produce, and a strange man ate them like he was damn too hungry for the world. "You eat what doesn't belong to you..!", He stuttered to say in his aged voice, his voice cracking while he walked towards him.

It stopped what it was munching on and looked up threateningly with its red eyes at the intruder that had just ruined its meal. The size of the rodent, however, was not what had startled Carson. It was what it was munching on. It was the old man. It was old Cabbage. He looked to have been impaled unto something as red dyed his blue Lacoste shirt. The rodent had been munching on the old man’s face. It looked like it had been going for some time as most od the man’s sagging cheek was gone.

’ Wilson thought, exasperatedly. “Or, do you want me to give you some personal lessons?” Old man Jenkins was not making it any better. Wilson gave him an angry look. Then, he bent towards his food and began to stuff his mouth with large stockings of spiced meat. There is no way he was allowing the old man and his granddaughter to see the embarrassed look on his face. He would rather stuff his face and make the pink look like it was an inevitable result of overfilling his mouth with food.

the old man described to her. Nina sighed in disappointment but then flashed a smile to that old man. “Thank you, sir,” Nina thanked him, politely while giving him as much respect as possible. It widened the old man's smile. “Would you like to eat something?” The old man asked her. Nina looked at the food he was selling and her stomach ached in more hunger, seeing those noodles, fries and hotdogs which he was selling on his stall but then she remembered she had no money to buy them.

he said with a shrug. She barely managed to swallow, resisting the urge to spit it out. Setting the glass down, she feigned composure. "It’s a little sour, not really my taste. Like eating an underripe orange—half yellow, half green, all acidity." The old man’s eyes lit up. "Remarkable," he murmured. "That’s exactly how I would describe it." Sarah finally took a good look at the man before her - no, the elderly gentleman. He wasn't well-dressed, wearing just casual clothes with several patches on his pants.

He may not recognize the color brown, claiming that it is simply too dark, poo-poo, and has begun with poking with a stick. Sol Ming, who has seen more dark things in her life, wishes she could pluck her eyes out right away! How can they not see this kid? "Hurry up and finish that, we are going to eat now." A sickly old woman with tanned skin and a wrinkled face who appears to be the child's grandmother has spoken When he heard they were going to eat, the young boy eagerly left where he was squatting down, not even throwing that stick he had used to poke his poo, and sat down next to the older woman.

Outside, Warren Hewitt from the neighborhood association looked flustered as he tried to stop a spirited old man in his 60s. "Mr. Fletcher, please, let's talk calmly. Don't do this. Ms. Lawson is a good person—" The man called Mr. Fletcher shoved Mr. Hewitt aside and thrust a phone in front of my face. "A good person? Mr. Hewitt, don't let her fool you. See for yourself!" On the phone screen, a short video was playing. The footage was shaky and shot at the kitchen's serving window. On the tray was a plate piled with braised pork ribs, collard greens, mashed potatoes, a bowl of bean soup, and some grains.