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                                                                                                                                                                “不枪毙?哦,好好,不怕不怕。”师父吓坏了,从地上爬起来,腿还在哆嗦着。
                                                                                                                                                                “你是干什么的?”
                                                                                                                                                                
                                                                                                                                                                
                                                                                                                                                                “裁,裁缝,作,作衣裳。”
                                                                                                                                                                “他呢。”小军官一指文炳。
                                                                                                                                                                “我,我,我徒弟。”
                                                                                                                                                                “嗯,看上去都还有点儿力气,走,老子要征你趟差。”
                                                                                                                                                                “什么?您吩,吩咐。”师父这才明白,人家是抓差的,不是枪毙人的,已经苍白的脸上又现出了血色。
                                                                                                                                                                “一会儿你们跟我去弄辆车,把这些死尸都拉走扔到河里去。”
                                                                                                                                   

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