neighbor grandma_800字

　　My family lived on the ground floor was a septuagenarian granny, dry face, flat like dried tangerine produced in fujian province, write full of vicissitudes of life. Every day in the morning to go to school, I saw her in busy honeycomb briquet furnace. In the corridor of cigarette smoke, as if a "fairyland", thick smoke, very anxious to insides are choking gadites cough out, didn“t good mood early in the morning. Have an aunt finally succumb to anger in the heart, go to theory with her, but she doesn“t care about, as usual as if nothing happened to take fans her little son furnace. I thought: what exergue, also with this broken item, how convenient magnetic electric furnace, gas burner, with honeycomb briquet can save some money? Don“t children“s filial piety her? On one occasion, her relatives, her face as a tangerine produced in fujian province Immediately with vitality, just bought off old hen a didn“t also attentively on the stair handrail, old hen scream back to spin in the corridor. I saw her a pot of hot water, the dying mother chicken forcibly push into the water. The old hen may have been counted to life buried here, did not make too much struggle. Her out of chicken, three times five divided by two plucking the chicken feather, picking up a pair of bright scissors, gut, cut open the belly the corridor immediately filled with blood, as if just after a bloody big jungle killed, stairs nose fled helter-skelter door left unlocked, eyes of disdain eyes, kill chickens also saved a dollar money, is really a miser! Though she kill the chicken does not blink, she have nothing to do is take the Buddha bead read out, look a heart of a bodhisattva. A red sun rising, the students carrying bag down the floor, class family busy pushing on the bike, but she, repose, with beads murmured to enjoy. In the evening, the students were busy writing assignments, the adults to go for a walk after the meal, she is still in the same place, with the same string of beads, the same posture, like a statue of mud of spirit alike. Building up and down the people looked at her with scorn. Door to see people, can“t see her flat! Summer in the corridor some household garbage bags are not timely cleaning, sometimes the corridor permeates the rotten smell, one day in the afternoon School early, I heard 窸 corridor slurp-munch-slurp noise, looked up, turned out to be her grandmother - the first floor. Stooping saw her, carrying a bag, mouch. Is she don“t want to be a "mud"? Or tired? I feel a little weird..