I breed to me bankruptcy vulture and pluck to them the feathers to them are naked and any more cannot fly. Until they chew on the garbage of the streets and eat what I throw away. My bankruptcy vultures are ugly like the night, but good little animals. They make what I want and if I in the fingers flip, they lift the wing to the also last cent to ground falls. My bankruptcy vultures plough the whole day and sweat and stink. Though they are birds, but screw they do not act: They are impotent and do not reproduce. Every morning they swarm out and lay to me in the evening the prey at feet. They would rob other for my welfare and they are loyal towards me, even if I hit them and pluck. Bankruptcy vultures are meaningless creatures. They already know as a fledgling that they will end sometime as a roast chicken.

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