Brother Kalo once said it is good for digestion if you lie down on your left side. After having a sumptuous meal I use to wet my palm with water and moved it round and round my naval in clockwise motion chanting Agosto Agosto. From that time on to these days of indigestion this habit persists. In that one night two hundred chickens of Brother Kalo’s prized firm were dead. The chickens moved round and round shitting white like lime and died. For a few days chicken meat were in abundance. I was little afraid. But the greed for the meat was stronger than the fear of death. The chickens moved round and round shitting white like lime and died. I don’t believe in keeping any news of anybody. That is why I don’t know whether Brother Kalo is still alive or died moving round and round. If he is still alive, will die one day shitting white like lime. This write up does not have any obligations or responsibilities, even does not try to prove that I am the real junkie so I do not eat pie. After my father’s death he was kept on ice blocks so that my elder brother could come and see his dead body. A bed sheet was placed upon his body when we noticed he was having goose pimples from cold. You are supposed to touch the body and remain so until the final rites but the intense cold was almost freezing my balls. So I tied one end of a ribbon on his finger and held the other end ten feet away from his body and kept waiting for my big brother’s arrival. Before he lost consciousness I know my father’s head was also reeling like the chicken.
