می خواهم یک داستان براتون بگم اما توی این داستان هر جا کلمه دست باشه من بجاش میگم چیز.
داشتم توی خیابون میرفتم که اون ور خیابون دوستم را دیدم و برای جلب توجهش
از دور چیزم را برایش تکون دادم. اما دیدم اصلا محل من نمیگذاره. رفتم
طرفش و نزدیکش که شدم خودش را کشید کنار و به من گفت به من چیز نزنی ها که
از تو دلخورم. گفتم چیزم به دامنت مگه من چکار کردم؟ گفت چیز به دلم نزن
که داغ دلم تازه میشه. گفتم به خدا من کاری نکردم، حتما چیز کسان دیگری در
کار بوده که تو را ناراحت کردند. گفت از این حرفها چیز بر دار و ولم کن.
گفتم حالا هر چی بوده ببخشید، چیز بده آشتی کنیم. گفت محال است که چیز
بدم. منم که دیدم اینطوریه به زور چیزش را گرفتم و گذاشتم توی چیزم و حسابی
فشار دادم تا مرا ببخشه و سر انجام چیز در چیز هم به راه افتادیم. آخر
اون روز هم با یک ضرب گلوله او را کشتم
Michailovic pushed his glasses back and sighed. “The following numbers are being released. ”The numbers came spitting out of Michailovic’s mouth, resembling in more ways than one a madman with a machine gun in a massacre. Hardly anyone showed any reaction, making it impossible to tell whether they were shot or not. The notable exceptions were a couple of smiles breaking out here and there as some numbers were being skipped. As the list carried on, Callahan realized that before long it would be zooming in at an alarming rate on his proximity. Callahan had no idea who those ahead of him were, but he could see that none of them were making the cut. He considered it good, after all the more gone before him, the higher his chances were. He looked up at Michailovic, almost trying to read his lips before the words were spat out. “116.” Callahan looked around, trying to identify the holder of this number. However, no one was responding. “117.” C...
Comments
Post a Comment