一朱老者是一个神经病。他紧紧地握住手中白森森的杀猪刀,目光空洞,口里念念有词,几个有劳力的汉子死死地压住在案桌上挣扎咆哮的大猪,等待朱老者手举刀落。空气又湿又冷,但是壮汉们的身上都在蒸腾着一股热气,他们不再年轻,但看上去仍旧劳力十足。朱老者一只手拿着锋利的钩子,狠狠地钩进猪的嘴里,用力往上一提,那颗沉重的头颅便高高扬起,被钩子刺破的上颚流出了掺杂着黏黏的口水的血液。朱老者刀尖用力一挺,深深地刺进了猪的喉咙里,一阵悲惨的长鸣,一股滚烫的血液。这是一年到 An old man is a neuropathy. He firmly hold the hands of white Mori’s swine knife, eyes empty, mouth remembered, a few hard-working man crushed tightly on the desk table roaring big pig, waiting for the old man hand lift knife. The air was wet and cold, but the brawns were transfixed with heat and they were no longer young but still looked laborious. Zhu old man holding a sharp hook in one hand, mercilessly hooked into the pig’s mouth, forced to mention, the sinking heavy head was raised high, pierced by the hook out of the top of the mouth sticky with sticky The saliva blood. Zhu old man tip a hard, deeply pierced the pig’s throat, a burst of miserable bells, a hot blood. This is a year