Shrimp skin

It's a gift from an uncle who sells vegetables. I'm going to buy a couple of pickles for a meal alone. I don't want any money. I've got a half a pound. If you make the leftovers, you'll have to make a goose egg. I always think it's easier to earn money than the hard-earned fruit growers, so buying their stuff never pays for it. They are not usually allowed to wipe zeros and are not rounded to the nearest one. It usually results in me taking advantage. He always buys other fruits and vegetables, and he'll give them to others if I don't want them. Other sellers can't laugh, some buyers can compare to me, and other fruit and vegetables can't do it. I remember what the old man said to the buyer I was up against: She never talks about me. I can't keep losing her. This time, you'll have to bargain for half a day... and I won't bargain and I'll lose anything. It's good for him to be a long-stable buyer. Because I often sell his fruit and vegetables because I compliment him on it. And often he sells things he can't finish. I've wrapped them up. From the beginning of spring and summer to the end of yesterday's old man's last peach. The old man invited me to go to his orchard next year and see if I can. I promised him I'd drive to his house, and he'd be all wrinkled and smiling. It's good to say. It's bad luck。