2019-09-03

【Aiden in English】

        Last Sunday morning, I awoke to the loud buzzer of my alarm. I hit the snooze button. Twice.

        I got dressed and washed and went downstairs. Inhaling a plate of scrambled eggs and some toast, I watched a quick recap of last night’s sporting events. 

        Opening my computer, I wasted hours browsing the depths of the internet, watching mildly humorous or entertaining clips. 

        What a normal Sunday morning.

        Last Sunday morning, I awoke to a truck ramming my forehead. 

        “Honk, honk. You are in the way. Vroom vroom… booofffff.”

        “Aaaahhhh… Jeffery!”

        My joker of a brother smirked. The sides of his mouth twisted at wicked angles. His matte black hair draped over his eyes like a mask; his oversized dark green hoodie flopped backward like a cape. 

        He pulled back his arm, winding up another assault at my noggin.

        I smacked the toy truck out of his hands to prevent a concussion. It clattered to the floor.

        Jeffrey’s smile faded into a scowl. “How dare you?!” he exclaimed with a theatrical flail of his arms, balling his hands into two little fists of fire. “You have angered the Truck Gods!” 

        “Yeah, yeah…  Tell your truck deities to stay away from this Christian establishment. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for church?” 

        “No. Mommy said I can read the Truck Bible today at home instead.”

        “What?”

        He reached into his pants and withdrew a crumpled (and slightly wet) edition of the toy’s manual. I couldn’t help but notice the ‘Can be hazardous to children’ alert.

        I sighed. “Okay, whatever. Just don’t do this again, please.”

        “I will not, good sire. But the Divinity of Trucks may implore its wrath upon thee for desecrating our title.”

        I gave him a weird look. Jeffrey’s vocabulary seemed a bit strange. What a bizarre Sunday morning.

        Last Sunday morning, I awoke to the slushing of wet wheels through puddles and a light tapping of raindrops on my window. 

        I glanced at my clock. 9:13. Well, it’s Sunday. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt…

        I blinked. I turned to my nightstand and checked the time again. 11:37.

         “Shoot.”

        The house was quiet. I sprinted downstairs, pajamas and hair flopping wildly. I flashed by the living room. The TV was off. Not good. The bathroom was unused. The computers were dark. There were no signs of life. Heart pounding, I dashed to the kitchen, hoping to find someone alive in the house.

        A note laid on the counter. “Breakfast is in the fridge.” Oh no.

        I opened the fridge. Mostly empty, only one thing caught my eye: a raw uncracked egg with a dollop of butter on a plate covered in plastic wrap. On the wrap itself, I vaguely identified the words: Do it yourself, you lazy idiot. 

        I was overcome with anguish. “I can’t cook food…”

        What a terrible Sunday morning. 

        Last Sunday morning, I awoke to a shining beam of light dazzling my retinas. Whether it was because of the majestic glow radiating from the ceiling or the pure blinding aura glowing off the floating naked dude’s torso, I wasn’t sure. 

        “Greetings, commoner. I am Contrivus, Chief Executive of the Divinity of Trucks. You have violated section III, article XXIV, which states that all Common Folk must not desecrate the Counsel of Trucks in any form of speech, thought, or action. Due to the accusation by Jeffrey Steinberg, the Counsel has granted me permission to personally collect thee. Thou shalt be Tried and Punished accordingly. Submit yourself to avoid further punishment.”

        I couldn’t say anything. I still could not get past the fact that a naked old man was mysteriously floating two feet above my bed.

        The dude tilted his head. “Commoner, are you deaf? Do your ears not interpret the word of gods?”

         “H-h-hhh…” 

        “Oh never mind.” He reached out and grabbed my arm. That seemed to snap me out of my stupor.

        “Wait! I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

        “We shall see about that.” He raised his hand. I felt my body slowly ascend beyond the force of gravity. 

        “Wait! My-my brother. He’s actually the culprit. He-he was attacking me with his truck!”

        “What did you say?!” The god appeared confused. “He used a sacred item as a weapon of destruction?”

        I feverishly nodded.

         “How dare him! This demon must be apprehended at once! This meeting is postponed until the future.”

        A bright flash of light emitted from his eyes. Lightning crackled, and Contrivus was gone.

        I took a deep breath. What a very not normal Sunday morning.

        Last Sunday morning, I awoke in chains strung up to a fluffy sheep—

        “Okay, Aiden, I’m gonna have to stop you there.”

        I look up. “You don’t like it?”

        “No, no, Aiden, this is great. It’s just that the prompt is a personal-narrative, not whatever you call this.”

        “Sorry Mrs. Campbell, but the prompt really isn’t that specific.”

        My English teacher glances up. “Well, Aiden, what actually happened last Sunday?”

        “I woke up at noon and played video games all day.”

        “So write about that. The point of this narrative is to describe reality.”

        “But that’s not interesting at all. Reality is ….”

        What a boring Sunday morning.

【紅霞譯文】

        上個星期天早晨，我被鬧鐘吵醒，伸手摸到定時按鈕，撳了兩下。

        我穿好衣服，洗漱完後走下樓去，迎面撲來炒雞蛋和烤麵包香味，快速瀏覽了一下昨晚體育賽事概況。

        接着打開電腦，我上網轉悠了半天，想要找點風趣的段子逗樂。

        多麼普通的星期天早晨。

        上個星期天早晨，我醒來腦袋瓜發出卡車的轟鳴聲。

        “嘀，嘀，你擋路了，嗚嗚……卟卟卟卟”

        “哎呦……傑佛瑞！”

        愛起鬨的哥們樂得要死， 他擰巴着嘴角， 烏黑的頭髮像個面具罩住了眼睛，超大號深綠色連衫帽好似斗篷一樣搭在腦後。

        他抽回手臂，準備再給我腦袋一拳。

        我打碎他手中的玩具卡車，以防被打成腦震盪，碎片噼里啪啦掉了滿地。

        傑佛瑞漸漸收起笑容，“你瘋了？！”他狂吼起來，憤怒地攥緊雙拳，手臂在空中狂舞，“這下你可惹惱了卡車神！”

        “得嘞，得嘞……叫你那些卡車仙兒們離基督教堂遠點，你不應該做好禮拜的準備？”

        不，媽媽說今天我在家念卡車經就成。“

        他將手伸進褲子，掏出一本皺皺巴巴（略帶潮濕）的玩具手冊，我一下子就注意到上面警告“少兒不宜”。

        我嘆了口氣，“好吧，無論如何下不為例。”

        “肯定的，先生，不過卡車神也許因此而要詆毀我們。

        我遲疑地看了他一眼，傑弗里說話有點蹊蹺，多麼奇怪的星期天早晨。

        上個星期天早晨，我醒來發現地面上的積水打濕了車輪，窗戶上掛着點點雨珠。

        只見時鐘指向9：13，今天是星期日，再躺一會無妨……

        我眨了眨眼，腦袋轉向床頭櫃查看時間，11：37。

        “糟糕。”

        家裡靜悄悄的，我身穿睡衣蓬頭散發朝樓下飛奔，匆匆經過客廳，電視關着，情況不妙。浴室沒用，計算機沒開，不像人待過。我的心砰砰直跳，箭步衝進廚房，希望能見個人影。

        桌子上放着一張紙條, “早飯在冰箱裡”，別介。

        我打開冰箱，裡面基本上空空如也，有樣東西引起了我的注意：用保鮮膜裹的盤子裡放着完好無損的生雞蛋和奶油，我勉強看清楚膜上字寫的幾個字：看着辦，懶鬼。

        我束手無策，“我哪會做飯……”

        多麼可怕的星期天早晨！

        上一個星期天清晨，我被灼光照醒，刺眼的光線究竟是經房頂反射過來的還是從晃動的脊梁杆子折射過來的，我不得而知。

        “早，老弟。我是指揮官卡車神總管，你觸犯了第三節第廿四條法規，平民百姓不得以任何形式的言論、思想或行動褻瀆卡車勸告。由於傑弗里·斯坦博格的指控，法律顧問准許我親自收押你，你會因此而受到審判和處置，服軟吧，以免面臨更進一步懲罰。

        我什麼也沒說 仍然無法擺脫赤身裸體的老傢伙在距離我床兩英尺遠的上方神秘晃動一事。

        那傢伙歪着腦袋，“老弟，你聾了？聽不懂神說得話嗎？”

        這個……

        “別介意。”他伸手抓住我胳膊，我好像一下子清醒起來。

        且慢！我沒做錯什麼。

        “我們總會弄清楚的。”他抬了抬手，我感覺身體順勢也慢慢提了起來。

        等一下！我—兄弟，他真是罪犯，是他用卡車撞我的。

        “你說什麼？”卡車神看似疑惑不解，“難道他用神聖的東西當殺傷武器？”

        我使勁地點頭。

        “膽大包天！必須馬上逮捕這個壞蛋！下面的會議推遲到以後再開。”

        他滿眼放光，閃電劈啪作響，指揮官離去。

        我深深地吸了一口氣，多麼不尋常的星期天早晨。

        上個星期天早晨，我一覺醒來，身上拴着一隻毛茸茸的羊—

        “好嘞，兒歌，我沒讓你這麼寫。”

        我仰頭問道：“你不喜歡？”

        “不，不是，兒歌，你做得很棒，只不過這是寫人而非你所說的。”

        “對不起坎貝爾太太，但提示真的沒有特別說明。”

        我的英文老師抬起頭來：“沒錯，兒歌，上個星期天到底發生了什麼？”

        “我中午起床，打了一整天遊戲。”

        “就寫這個好了，記敘文是描述真人真事。”

        “但這太無聊，現實是……”

        多麼無聊的星期天早晨。