灵感源于小墨羽的丑小鸭.
　　此楼说明镇楼是别人写的。
　　然后前方高能,我写得太垃圾了( ･ㅂ･)و
　　向墨羽的丑小鸭致敬。
　　谢谢你全世界最好的丑小鸭♡
　　 @霜连飞草

壹.
“
　　一切在我们身上都同样发生
　　没有任何事让我们赤裸裸地说更多什么
　　一切都那么相似地发生在我们身上
　　你只能去问你算什么东西
　　”
第一次我看到他们是在复活节。
　　在美国大冬天的复活节。
　　他们穿着大衣，脖子上围着一圈不知是什么的皮毛，上好的皮革制成的靴子。一步步地踏在厚雪地里。
　　一步步地留下脚印，一点点地拔出猎枪，一丝丝地露出恶心的本性。
　　砰。
　　狗急了也会跳墙。我们这群**猴急地扑腾着脏翅膀，也无法高高翱翔在天空。
　　一只。两只。
　　同胞们的身体各处流着鲜血，被那帮家伙擎着脖颈，扔进一个个的筐子里。
　　幸存者要么跳进了结成冰的河床上，掉入淹死或存活；要么从偏僻的地方逃走，被发现或侥幸生存。
　　在此声明一下，我是你们的主人公。
　　无名，是只鸭子。
我妈告诉我，他们是狩猎者。
　　如果和同伴遇见他们，下次再会是只能在餐桌上了。都没法好端端地来个鸭子去冥界的桥段。
　　顺带来一句，我爸不是被那帮家伙打死的，是被那帮家伙抓去给别人家做宠物了。
　　反正狩猎者的眼睛里只有美元。
　　——左眼写着“美”，右眼写着“元”的那种。神经质一样的疯狂痴迷。
　　更奇怪的是，人类都是像狩猎者一样的物种。人人都爱钱，不管钱经过多少人的传递，不管钱有多脏。
　　真奇怪。
这是发生在冬天的一个披着棉袄的故事。披着棉袄的故事。
　　“故事的开头是什么，妈？”
　　“狩猎者打死了鸭子。”我妈扑腾扑腾了翅膀，将我搂了搂。
　　“……真不是个好事儿。然后呢？”我将头埋在妈妈的肩膀上。
　　“然后？然后无能的鸭子只能逃了喽。
　　鸭子逃啊逃，就算是到美国边境的尼亚加拉大瀑布和时代广场，他们苟且偷生，也处处会被人抓走，随时随地有生命危险。”
　　我听着落寞地说：“噢。然后鸭子们死了？”
　　“死了一大半的鸭子。”
　　“剩下来一小半的鸭子呢？”
　　“要么是幸运，”
　　“……要么？”
　　“要么自己借物碾断自己的翅膀和身上的肉，满身血淋淋地面对处处捕捉它们的世界。”
　　TBC.

One.
"
　　Everything has been said before .
　　There is nothing to say anymore .
　　When it is all the same .
　　You can ask for by name.
　　"
For the first time I saw them in Easter.
　　Easter in the Great Winter Day.
　　They are wearing a coat, neck around a circle I do not know what the fur, made of good leather boots. Step by step in the thick snow.
　　Step by step to leave footprints, a little bit out of the shotgun, a trace of revealing the nature of nausea.
　　Bang.
　　The dog will jump to the wall. We are a group of animals, monsters rush to the dirty wings, can not fly high in the sky.
　　One and two.
　　Compatriots who flow around the body of blood, was the gang of friends with the neck, thrown into a basket.
　　The survivor either jumps into an icy river bed, falls into drown or survives; either escapes from a remote place, is found or lucky to survive.
　　In this statement, I am your protagonist.
　　Unnamed is a duck only.
My mom told me they were hunters.
　　If they meet with their companions, the next time will be only on the table. Can not be a good way to a duck to the underworld of the plot.
　　Incidentally, my dad was not killed by those gangs, was caught by those guys to someone else to do the pet.
　　Anyway, the hunter's eyes are only dollar.
　　Just like the left eye reads "mon-", the right eye reads "-ney" . The same crazy crazy obsession.
　　Even more surprising is that humans are the same species as hunters. Everyone loves money, no matter how many people pass the money, no matter how dirty the money.
　　Really weird.
This is the story of a jacket in the winter. Dressed in a jacket.
　　"What is the beginning of the story, Mom?"
　　"The hunter killed the duck." My mother thumped the wings and hugged me.
　　"……really is not a good thing. Then?" I head buried in the mother's shoulder.
　　"Then then the incompetent duck can only escape myself.

　　Ducks fled, even to the United States border Niagara Falls and Times Square, they are stunned, but also everywhere will be captured, anytime, anywhere life-threatening. "
　　I listened to lonely and said, "Oh, then the ducks are dead?"
　　"Dead half of the ducks."
　　"Is there a little half of the duck?"
　　"Either lucky,"
　　"……or?"
　　"Or you can break your own wings and the flesh of your body, and you'll be caught in a bloody world that catches them everywhere."
　　TBC.

暖贴。

暖暖

突然诈尸然后暖贴。

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暖

加油↖(^ω^)↗

原来是个大佬，暖贴来了

不错，不对，应该是很棒棒！