A MATTER OF COURAGE
The commanders of the armed forces of a country were attending a parade of the army,the air force and the navy.
My soldiers are the bravest men in the world." the commander of the army said.
"I'm afraid I can't agree" replied the commander of the air force.My men have more courage.
You're both mistaken said the commander of the navy.My sailors are the bravest and most courageous men.
"Let me give you a demonstration of real courage."the commander of the army said.
He ordered a soldier to climb a flagpole 5 stories high and swing back down to the ground on a rope.
The soldier did so without a word
The commander of the air force just smiled.
He ordered a pilot to climb a flagpole 3 stories high and swing back down to the ground on a rope.
The pilot did so without a word.
The commander of the navy ordered a sailor to climb a
flagpole 7 stories high and swing back down to the ground on a rope.
The sailor did NOT do so without a word
"You want me to climb up there and swing down on a rope,sir?"
"That's an order,sailor" replied the commander.
"You must be crazy.Do it yourself"said the sailor.
The commander of the navy turned to the others and said:
"That,gentlemen,is real courage."
ITALIAN
• Un generale dell'Esercito, uno dell'Aviazione e uno della Marina stanno discutendo alla base di una torretta sul valore e il coraggio dei propri appartenenti all'arma.
Il generale della Marina dice: "I miei uomini sono i piu' coraggiosi di tutte le Forze Armate e lo posso provare".
Chiama uno dei suoi uomini e gli dice: "Voglio che tu salga sulla torre e ti butti
giu' senza paracadute".
"Agli ordini, signor Generale!" e il marinaio cosi' fa, ovviamente sfracellandosi al suolo.
Allora il generale dell'Aviazione dice:
"Questo e' niente" e chiama un aviere e gli dice: "Figliolo, voglio che tu salga sulla torre e ti butti giu' con stile".
"Si', signor Generale!!".
L'aviere si butta dalla torre con uno stupendo tuffo (tipo trampolino) e naturalmente si sfracella anche lui al suolo.
Naturamente gli altri generali rimangono impressionati.
Allora interviene l'ammiraglio che dice: "Questo e' nulla" e chiama un soldato che sta lavando le latrine:
"Figliolo, voglio che tu salga sulla torre, ti lanci giu' senza paracadute e con addosso tutte le bombe a mano innescate".
Il soldato guarda fisso in volto l'Ammiraglio e gli dice: "Ma va a farti fottere" e se ne va.
Allora l'Ammiraglio si volta verso gli altri due e dice: "Avete visto? Questo si' che e' coraggio!"
SPANISH UNA CUESTIÓN DE CORAJE
Los comandantes de las fuerzas armadas de un país asistían a un desfile del ejército, la fuerza aérea y la marina.
Mis soldados son los hombres más valientes del mundo. ", Dijo el comandante del ejército.
Me temo que no puedo estar de acuerdo", respondió el comandante de la fuerza aèrea.Mis hombres tienen más valor.
Ustedes estan equivocados dijo el comandante de la marina.Mis hombres son losmás valientes.
Les voy a dar una demostración de coraje real.",Les dijo el comandante del ejército.
Él ordenó a un soldado de subir un asta de 3 pisos de altura y regresar a tierra balanceandose en una cuerda.
El soldado lo hizo sin una palabra
El comandante de la fuerza aérea se limitó a sonreír.
Ordenó a un piloto de subir un asta de 5 pisos de altura y regresar a tierra balanceandose en una cuerda.
El piloto lo hizo sin una palabra.
El comandante del ejercito ordenó a un marinero de subir una
asta 7 pisos de altura y regresar a tierra balancenadose en una cuerda.
El marinero no lo hizo sin una palabra
"¿Quiere que me suba allí y regrese hacia abajo en una cuerda, señor?"
"Es una orden, marinero", respondió el comandante.
"Usted debe estar loco.Hagalo usted mismo", dijo el marinero.
El comandante del ejercito se volvió hacia los demás comandantes y dijo:
"Eso, señores, es el valor real".
TAXI,MISTER?
When a was a student,I often worked int he afternoons for a private taxi service.
One afternoon I went to Park Avenue to pick up three gentlemen.
They wanted to go to Kennedy Airport,and they were in a big hurry.
They were booked on a flight to London in less than a hour.
"Can you get us there in time?" one man asked.
"I'll do my best,sir."I replied,and pulled away from the curb into traffic.
I kept an eye out for police as I made several illegal turns,cut in front of a school
bus,ran two red lights and barely missed several pedestrians.
I checked on my passengers as I raced down the espress-way.
They looked a little pale,and were rather quiet.
I screeched to a stop in front of the International Terminal with fifteen
minutes to spare.
One of the men paid the fare,and gave me a good tip.
He also said calmly,"it may interest you to know who my friends are.
One is a chief of police,and the other is a judge"
It was my turn to be quiet!
SPANISH :TAXI,Señor?
Cuando una era un estudiante, a menudo trabajaba en las tardes para un servicio de taxi privado.
Una tarde fui a Park Avenue a recoger tres caballeros.
Querían ir al aeropuerto Kennedy, y estaban prisa.
Ellos habìan reservado un vuelo para Londres en menos de una hora.
"¿Nos puede hacer llegar a tiempo?" preguntó un hombre.
"Voy a hacer mi mejor esfuerzo, señor." Le respondí, y me alejè de la acera hacia el tráfico.
Tenìa un ojo a la policía cuando hice varias vueltas ilegales,cortè la calle a un autobus delante de una escuela,pasè dos semaforos en rojo y apenas atropellaba varios peatones.
Vì que mis pasajeros parecìan palidos y traquillos mientras manejaba a alta velocidad por las calles.
Lleguè a una parada frente a la terminal internacional quince minutos antes.
Uno de los hombres me pagò la tarifa, y me diò una buena propina.
Me dijo con calma: "Quizá le interese saber quiénes son mis amigos.
Se trata de un jefe de la policía, y el otro es un juez "
Entonces fuè mi turno para callarme!
BAD DREAMS
When Pat Jones finished college, she decided to travel around the world and see as many foreign places as she could while she was Young.
Pat wanted to visit Latin America first, so she got a job as an English teacher in a
school in Bolivia.
Pat spoke a little Spanish, so she was able to communicate with her students even when
they didn't know much English.
A sentence she had read somewhere was in her mind: if you dream in a foreign language, you have really mastered it.
Pat repeated this sentence to her students and hoped that some day she would dream in
Spanish and they would dream in English.
One day, one of her worst students came up and explained in Spanish that he had not done his homework.
He had gone to bed early and had slept badly . "What does this have to do with your homework ?" Pat asked.
"I dreamed all night, Miss Jones. And my dream was in English."
"In English?" Pat was very surprised, since he was such a bad student. She was also secretly jealous.
Her dream was still not in Spanish. But she encouraged her young student,"Well, tell me about your
dream."
"All the people in my dream spoke English. All the newspapers and magazines and TV programs were in English."
"But that's wonderful ,"said Pat. "What did all the people say to you?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Jones. That's why I slept so badly. I didn't understand a word they said. It was a nightmare "
SPANISH :PESADILLA
Cuando Pat Jones terminó la universidad, decidió viajar por el mundo y ver tantos paìses mientras ella serìa joven.
Pat quería visitar primero Latinoamérica, así que ella consiguió un trabajo como profesora de Inglés en una escuela en Bolivia.
Pat hablaba un poco de español, asì que era capaz de comunicar con sus alumnos, incluso cuando ellos no sabían mucho inglés.
Ella había leído en alguna parte una frase que estaba en su mente:
si sueñas en un idioma extranjero,lo realmente has dominado.
Pat repitiò esta frase a sus alumnos y esperaba que algún día ella soñarìa en
Español y ellos soñarían en Inglés.
Un día, uno de sus peores estudiantes se acercó y le explicó en español que él no había hecho la tarea.
Se había ido a la cama temprano y había dormido mal.
"¿Qué tiene esto que ver con la tarea?" Preguntó Pat.
"Soñè toda la noche,señorita Jones. Y mi sueño era en Inglés."
"¿En ingles?" Pat estaba muy sorprendida, ya que era un pesimo estudiante.
Ella sintiò celos secretamente.
Sus sueños todavía no eran en español.
Pero ella animó a su joven estudiante, "Bueno, háblame de tu sueño."
"Toda la gente hablaba en Inglés en mi sueño.
Todos los periódicos y revistas y programas de televisión estaban en Inglés."
"Pero eso es maravilloso", dijo Pat. "¿Qué te decian?"
"Lo siento, señorita Jones,por eso me dormí tan mal.
Yo no entendía una palabra de lo que decían. Fue una pesadilla"
REVENGE
Barbara Mann approached her old school nervously.After 15 years,it looked the same.
Barbara remembered how miserable she had felt as a student there.
Her worst memory was of her old teacher,Miss Knott.
Barbara never knew why,but Miss Knott blamed and punished her for everything.
Once Miss Knott had struck Barbara so hard that she had fallen off her chair.
Barbara remembered Miss Knott with pure hatred and had often wished for Revenge.
Barbara had become an actress after graduation,and her big break in movies was about to happen.
She was going to sign a contract to star in a Frank Ziti film
Every star in the business knew that a role in a Ziti movie was a ticket to fame and fortune.
The headmistress of the school was at the door to meet Barbara,and the hated Miss knott was with her.
"I sure you remember Miss Knott,Barbara" said the headmistress
Barbara trembled with fifteen-year-old anger,and could not resist an opportunity to hurt and humiliate the woman.
"Remember her! Oh,yes.I remember every cruel,sadistic moment I spent in your class.
I hope you continue to rot in this school for the rest of your life,you miserable old witch"
Miss Knott said in a cold,nasty voice :
"It may interest you to know I'm leaving this school as of today to get married.
He's a film producer - perhaps you've heard of him- Frank Ziti?"
SPANISH VENGANZA
Barbara Mann se acercó a su vieja escuela nerviosamente.
Despuès de 15 años, parecía la misma.
Barbara recordó lo mal que se había sentido como un estudiante allí.
Su peor recuerdo era de su vieja maestra, la señorita Knott.
Barbara no sabía por qué, pero la señorita Knott la culpaba y castigaba por todo.
Una vez la señorita Knott había golpeado Barbara con tanta fuerza que se había caído de su silla.
Barbara recordaba la señorita Knott con puro odio y muchas veces había deseado venganza.
Barbara se había convertido en una actriz después de la graduación, y su gran oportunidad en el cine estaba a punto de suceder.
Ella iba a firmar un contrato para protagonizar una película de Frank Ziti
Cada estrella sabía que un papel en una película Ziti era un boleto a la fama y la fortuna.
La directora de la escuela estaba en la puerta para encontrar a Barbara, y la odiosa señorita knott estaba con ella.
"Estoy segura que te recuerdas de la señorita Knott, Barbara", dijo la directora
Barbara temblò con la ira de cuando tenìa quince años de edad, y no pudo resistir la oportunidad de herir y humillar a la mujer.
"La recuerdo! Oh, si.Recuerdo cada momento cruel, sádico que pasé en su clase.
Espero que continúe a pudrirse en esta escuela por el resto de su vida, miserable vieja bruja "
La señorita Knott dijo con una voz desagradable y fría:
"Quizás te interese saber que estoy dejando esta escuela a partir de hoy para casarse.
Él es un productor de cine - tal vez has oído hablar de él- Frank Ziti "?
An old Arab lives for more than 40 years in Chicago.
He would have loved to plant potatoes in his garden, but he is alone, old and weak.
His son is in college in Paris, so the old man sends him an e-mail.
He explains the problem: "Beloved son, I am very sad, because I can't plant potatoes in my garden.
I am sure, if only you were here, you would help and dig up the garden for me.
I love you, Your Father."
The following day, the old man receives a response e-mail from his son:
"Beloved Father, please don't touch the garden. It's there that I have hidden 'the THING'.
I love you, too, Ahmed"
At 4pm the US Army, The Marines, the FBI, the CIA and the Rangers visit the house of the old man, take the whole garden apart, search every inch, but can't find anything.
Disappointed they leave the house.
A day later, the old man receives another e-mail from his son:
"Beloved Father, I hope the garden is dug up by now and you can plant your potatoes.
That's all I could do for you from here.
I love you, Ahmed."
Where there's a Will,there's a way!
***************************
ITALIANO
ITALIAN
Un vecchio arabo residente a Chicago da più o meno quarant’anni vuole
piantare delle patate nel suo giardino, ma arare la terra è diventato
un lavoro troppo pesante per la sua veneranda età.
Il suo unico figlio Ahmed, sta studiando in Francia.
Il vecchio manda una e-mail a suo figlio spiegandogli il problema:
"Caro Ahmed, sono molto triste perchè non posso
piantare patate nel mio giardino quest’anno, sono troppo
vecchio per arare la terra. Se tu fossi qui tutti i miei problemi
sarebbero risolti. So che tu dissoderesti la terra e scaveresti per me.
Ti voglio bene. Tuo padre."
Il giorno dopo il vecchio riceve una e-mail di risposta da suo figlio:
"Caro papà, per tutto l’oro del mondo non toccare la terra del giardino!
Lì è dove ho nascosto ciò che tu sai…
Ti voglio bene anch’io. Ahmed".
Alle 4 della mattina seguente arrivano la polizia, gli agenti dell’FBI,della CIA, ,i RANGERS,
i MARINES,r ed i massimi esponenti del Pentagono che
rivoltano il giardino come un guanto, cercando materiale per costruire bombe,
antrace o qualsiasi altra cosa.
Non trovando nulla, se ne vanno.
Lo stesso giorno l’uomo riceve una mail da suo figlio:
"Caro papà, sicuramente la terra adesso è pronta per
piantare le patate. Questo è il meglio che ho potuto velocemente fare
date le circostanze…
Ti voglio bene. Ahmed."
************
SPANISH
Un viejo árabe que vive en Chicago desde hace más de cuarenta años quiere plantar papas en su jardín,pero arar la tierra es un trabajo ya muy pesado para él.
Su único hijo, Ahmed, está estudiando en Francia.
El viejo le manda un e-mail a su hijo
Querido Ahmed:
me siento mal porque no voy a poder plantar las papas en mi jardín este año.
Estoy muy viejo para arar la tierra. Si tú estuvieras aquí, todos mis problemas desaparecerían.
Sé que tú levantarías y removerías toda la tierra por mí.
Te quiere, Papá.
Pocos días después recibe la respuesta, también vía e-mail, de su hijo:
Querido padre:
Por todo lo que más quieras, no toques la tierra de ese jardín.
Ahí es donde tengo escondido aquello que ya sabes.
Te quiere, Ahmed.
Aún no han transcurrido tres horas desde que el viejo recibiera el e-mail de su hijo cuando aparecen la policía local,agentes del FBI, de la CIA, los Rangers, los marines y algún que otro representante del Pentágono,que se ponen a remover toda la tierra del jardín buscando materiales para construir bombas, ántrax, lo que sea.
Pero no encuentran nada y se van.
Al día siguiente, el hombre recibe otro mail de su hijo
Querido padre:
supongo que en estos momentos la tierra ya estará bien removida y lista para plantar las papas.
Mi e-mail anterior, dadas las circunstancias, es lo mejor que pude hacer para ayudarte.
Te quiere, Ahmed.
*********************************
JUST A SIMPLE QUESTION
When Albert Einstein was on a lecture tour through the United States.He was traveling by car from one university to the next.During the long tour,he became very friendly with his chauffer.
One night as they were driving to yet another rubber-chicken dinner, Einstein mentioned to his chauffeur (a man who somewhat resembled Einstein in looks & manner) that he was tired of speechmaking.
"I have an idea, boss," his chauffeur said. "I've heard you give this speech so many times. I'll bet I could give it for you."
Einstein laughed loudly and said, "Why not? Let's do it!"
When they arrived at the dinner, Einstein donned the chauffeur's cap and jacket and sat in the back of the room.
The chauffeur gave a beautiful rendition of Einstein's speech and even answered a few questions expertly.
Then a supremely pompous professor asked a very long and complicated
question full of equations and formulas.
Without missing a beat, the chauffeur fixed the professor with a steely stare and said:
"Sir, the answer to that question is so simple that I will let my chauffeur, who is sitting in the back, answer it for me."
---------------
UNA PREGUNTA MUY SENCILLA
Se cuenta que en los años 20 cuando Albert Einstein empezaba a ser conocido por su teoría de la relatividad, era con frecuencia solicitado por las universidades para dar conferencias.
Dado que no le gustaba conducir y sin embargo el coche le resultaba muy cómodo para sus desplazamientos, contrató los servicios de un chofer.
Después de varios días de viaje, Einstein le comentó al chofer lo aburrido que era repetir lo mismo una y otra vez.
"Si quiere", le dijo el chofer, "le puedo sustituir por una noche. He oído su conferencia tantas veces que la puedo recitar palabra por palabra."
Einstein le tomó la palabra y antes de llegar al siguiente lugar, intercambiaron sus ropas y Einstein se puso al volante. Llegaron a la sala donde se iba a celebran la conferencia y como ninguno de los académicos presentes conocía a Einstein, no se descubrió el engaño.
El chofer expuso la conferencia que había oído a repetir tantas veces a Einstein.
Al final, un profesor en la audiencia le hizo una pregunta muy complicada llena de ecuaciones y formulas.
El chofer no tenía ni idea de cual podía ser la respuesta, sin embargo tuvo un golpe de inspiración y le contesto:
"La pregunta que me hace es tan sencilla que dejaré que mi chofer, que se encuentra al final de la sala, se la responda".
Gandhi and the Professor
When Gandhi was studying law at the University College of London, a white professor, whose last name was Peters, disliked him intensely and always displayed prejudice and animosity towards him.Also, because Gandhi never lowered his head when addressing him, as he expected…. there were always “arguments” and confrontations.
One day, Mr Peters was having lunch at the dining room of the University, and Gandhi came along with his tray and sat next to the professor.
The professor said, “Mr Gandhi, you do not understand. A pig and a bird do not sit together to eat.”
Gandhi looked at him as a parent would a rude child and calmly replied, “You do not worry professor. I’ll fly away,” and he went and sat at another table.
Mr Peters, reddened with rage, decided to take revenge on the next test paper, but Gandhi responded brilliantly to all questions.
Mr Peters, unhappy and frustrated, asked him the following question. “Mr Gandhi, if you were walking down the street and found a package, and within was a bag of wisdom and another bag with a lot of money, which one would you take?”
Without hesitating, Gandhi responded, “The one with the money, of course.”
Mr Peters, smiling sarcastically said, “I, in your place, would have taken the wisdom, don’t you think?”
Gandhi shrugged indifferently and responded, “Each one takes what he doesn’t have.”
Mr Peters, by this time, was fit to be tied.
So great was his anger that he wrote on Gandhi’s exam sheet the word “idiot” and gave it to Gandhi.
Gandhi took the exam sheet and sat down at his desk trying very hard to remain calm while he contemplated his next move.
A few minutes later, Gandhi got up, went to the professor and said to him in a dignified but sarcastically polite tone, “Mr Peters, you signed the sheet, but you did not give me the grade.”
The American Pepper
"Mummy! Mummy!" shouted little Murna racing from the front door through to the kitchen. "There's a parcel.
The postman's brought a parcel!"
Her mother, Savni, looked at her in surprise. She had no idea who could have sent them a parcel.
Maybe it was a mistake. She hurried to the door to find out. Sure enough, the postman was there,
holding a parcel about the size of a small brick.
"From America, madam," he said. "See! American stamps."
It was true. In the top right-hand corner of the brown paper parcel were three strange-looking stamps,
showing a man's head. The package was addressed to Savni, in big, clear black letters.
"Well, I suppose it must be from Great-Aunt Pasni," said Savni to herself, as the postman went on his
way down the street, whistling. "Although it must be twenty years since we heard anything from her.
I thought she would have been dead by now."
Savni's husband Jornas and her son Arinas were just coming in from the garden, where Murna had run
to tell them about the parcel. "Well, open it then!" said Arinas impatiently. "Let's see what's inside!"
Setting the parcel down in the middle of the table, Savni carefully began to tear open the paper.
Inside, there was a large silver container with a hinged lid, which was taped shut.
There was also a letter.
"What is it? What is it?" demanded Murna impatiently. "Is it a present?"
"I have no idea," said Savni in confusion. "I think it must be from Great-Aunt Pasni. She went to America
almost thirty years ago now. But we haven't heard from her in twenty years. Perhaps the letter will tell us."
She opened the folded page cautiously, then looked up in dismay. "Well, this is no help!" she said in annoyance.
"It's written in English! How does she expect us to read English? We're poor people, we have no education.
Maybe Pasni has forgotten her native language, after thirty years in America."
"Well, open the pot, anyway," said Jornas. "Let's see what's inside."
Cautiously, Savni pulled the tape from the neck of the silver pot, and opened the lid. Four heads touched
over the top of the container, as their owners stared down inside.
"Strange," said Arinas. "All I see is powder." The pot was about one-third full of a kind of light-grey powder.
"What is it?" asked Murna, mystified.
"We don't know, darling," said Savni, stroking her daughter's hair. "What do you think?" Murna stared
again into the pot.
"I think it's coffee," she announced, finally. "American coffee."
"It's the wrong colour for coffee, darling," said Jornas thoughtfully. "But maybe she's on the right track.
It must be some kind of food." Murna, by now, had her nose right down into the pot. Suddenly, she lifted
her head and sneezed loudly.
"Id god ub by doze," she explained.
"That's it!" said Arinas. "It must be pepper! Let me try some." Dipping a finger into the powder, he licked it.
"Yes," he said, "it's pepper all right. Mild, but quite tasty. It's American pepper."
"All right," said Savni, "we'll try it on the stew tonight. We'll have American-style stew!"
That evening, the whole family agreed that the American pepper had added a special extra taste to
their usual evening stew. They were delighted with it. By the end of the week, there was only a teaspoonful of
the grey powder left in the silver container. Then Savni called a halt.
"We're saving the last bit for Sunday. Dr. Haret is coming to dinner, and we'll let him have some as a special
treat. Then it will be finished."
The following Sunday, the whole family put on their best clothes, ready for dinner with Dr. Haret.
He was the local doctor, and he had become a friend of the family many years before, when he had
saved Arinas's life after an accident. Once every couple of months, Savni invited the doctor for dinner,
and they all looked forward to his entertaining stories of his youth at the university in the
capital.
During dinner, Savni explained to the doctor about the mysterious American pepper, the last of which she
had put in the stew they were eating, and the letter they could not read.
"Well, give it to me, give it to me!" said the doctor briskly. "I speak English! I can translate it for you."
Savni brought the letter, and the family waited, fascinated, as the doctor began to translate.
"Dear Savni: you don't know me, but I am the son of your old Great-Aunt Pasni. She never talked much
to us about the old country, but in her final illness earlier this year, she told us that after her death, she
wanted her ashes to be sent back home to you, so that you could scatter them on the hills of the country
where she was born.
My mother died two weeks ago, and her funeral and cremation took place last week.
I am sending her ashes to you in a silver casket. Please do as she asked, and spread them over the ground
near where she was born. Your cousin, George Leary."
The Carpet Fitter
Eddie was a carpet fitter, and he hated it. For ten years he had spent his days sitting, squatting,
kneeling or crawling on floors, in houses, offices, shops, factories and restaurants. Ten years of his life,
cutting and fitting carpets for other people to walk on, without even seeing them. When his work was done,
no-one ever appreciated it. No- one ever said "Oh, that's a beautiful job, the carpet fits so neatly."
They just walked all over it. Eddie was sick of it.
He was especially sick of it on this hot, humid day in August, as he worked to put the finishing touches to
today's job. He was just cutting and fixing the last edge on a huge red carpet which he had fitted in the living room
of Mrs. Vanbrugh's house. Rich Mrs. Vanbrugh, who changed her carpets every year, and always bought the best.
Rich Mrs. Vanbrugh, who had never even given him a cup of tea all day, and who made him go outside when he
wanted to smoke. Ah well, it was four o'clock and he had nearly finished. At least he would be able to get home
early today. He began to day-dream about the weekend, about the Saturday football game he always played for
the local team, where he was known as "Ed the Head" for his skill in heading goals from corner kicks.
Eddie sat back and sighed. The job was done, and it was time for a last cigarette. He began tapping the pockets
of his overalls, looking for the new packet of Marlboro he had bought that morning. They were not there.
It was as he swung around to look in his toolbox for the cigarettes that Eddie saw the lump. Right in the middle
of the brand new bright red carpet, there was a lump. A very visible lump. A lump the size of -- the size of a packet
of cigarettes.
"Blast!" said Eddie angrily. "I've done it again! I've left the cigarettes under the blasted carpet!"
He had done this once before, and taking up and refitting the carpet had taken him two hours.
Eddie was determined that he was not going to spend another two hours in this house. He decided to get rid of the
lump another way. It would mean wasting a good packet of cigarettes, nearly full, but anything was better than
taking up the whole carpet and fitting it again. He turned to his toolbox for a large hammer.
Holding the hammer, Eddie approached the lump in the carpet. He didn't want to damage the carpet itself,
so he took a block of wood and placed it on top of the lump. Then he began to beat the block of wood as hard
as he could. He kept beating, hoping Mrs. Vanbrugh wouldn't hear the noise and come to see what he was doing.
It would be difficult to explain why he was hammering the middle of her beautiful new carpet.
After three or four minutes, the lump was beginning to flatten out. Eddie imagined the cigarette box breaking
up, and the crushed cigarettes spreading out under the carpet. Soon, he judged that the lump was almost
invisible. Clearing up his tools, he began to move the furniture back into the living room, and he was careful
to place one of the coffee tables over the place where the lump had been, just to make sure that no-one
would see the spot where his cigarettes had been lost. Finally, the job was finished, and he called Mrs. Vanbrugh
from the dining room to inspect his work.
"Yes, dear, very nice," said the lady, peering around the room briefly. "You'll be sending me a bill, then?"
"Yes madam, as soon as I report to the office tomorrow that the job is done." Eddie picked up his tools,
and began to walk out to the van. Mrs. Vanbrugh accompanied him. She seemed a little worried about something.
"Young man," she began, as he climbed into the cab of his van, laying his toolbox on the passenger seat
beside him, "while you were working today, you didn't by any chance see any sign of Armand, did you?
Armand is my parakeet. A beautiful bird, just beautiful, such colors in his feathers... I let him out of his cage,
you see, this morning, and he's disappeared. He likes to walk around the house, and he's so good, he usually
just comes back to his cage after an hour or so and gets right in. Only today he didn't come back. He's never
done such a thing before, it's most peculiar..."
"No, madam, I haven't seen him anywhere," said Eddie, as he reached to start the van.
And saw his packet of Marlboro cigarettes on the dashboard, where he had left it at lunchtime....
And remembered the lump in the carpet....
And realised what the lump was....
And remembered the hammering....
And began to feel rather sick....
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento
Nota. Solo i membri di questo blog possono postare un commento.