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.

【红霞译文】

        上个星期天早晨，我被闹钟吵醒，伸手摸到定时按钮，揿了两下。

        我穿好衣服，洗漱完后走下楼去，迎面扑来炒鸡蛋和烤面包香味，快速浏览了一下昨晚体育赛事概况。

        接着打开电脑，我上网转悠了半天，想要找点风趣的段子逗乐。

        多么普通的星期天早晨。

        上个星期天早晨，我醒来脑袋瓜发出卡车的轰鸣声。

        “嘀，嘀，你挡路了，呜呜……卟卟卟卟”

        “哎呦……杰佛瑞！”

        爱起哄的哥们乐得要死， 他拧巴着嘴角， 乌黑的头发像个面具罩住了眼睛，超大号深绿色连衫帽好似斗篷一样搭在脑后。

        他抽回手臂，准备再给我脑袋一拳。

        我打碎他手中的玩具卡车，以防被打成脑震荡，碎片噼里啪啦掉了满地。

        杰佛瑞渐渐收起笑容，“你疯了？！”他狂吼起来，愤怒地攥紧双拳，手臂在空中狂舞，“这下你可惹恼了卡车神！”

        “得嘞，得嘞……叫你那些卡车仙儿们离基督教堂远点，你不应该做好礼拜的准备？”

        不，妈妈说今天我在家念卡车经就成。“

        他将手伸进裤子，掏出一本皱皱巴巴（略带潮湿）的玩具手册，我一下子就注意到上面警告“少儿不宜”。

        我叹了口气，“好吧，无论如何下不为例。”

        “肯定的，先生，不过卡车神也许因此而要诋毁我们。

        我迟疑地看了他一眼，杰弗里说话有点蹊跷，多么奇怪的星期天早晨。

        上个星期天早晨，我醒来发现地面上的积水打湿了车轮，窗户上挂着点点雨珠。

        只见时钟指向9：13，今天是星期日，再躺一会无妨……

        我眨了眨眼，脑袋转向床头柜查看时间，11：37。

        “糟糕。”

        家里静悄悄的，我身穿睡衣蓬头散发朝楼下飞奔，匆匆经过客厅，电视关着，情况不妙。浴室没用，计算机没开，不像人待过。我的心砰砰直跳，箭步冲进厨房，希望能见个人影。

        桌子上放着一张纸条, “早饭在冰箱里”，别介。

        我打开冰箱，里面基本上空空如也，有样东西引起了我的注意：用保鲜膜裹的盘子里放着完好无损的生鸡蛋和奶油，我勉强看清楚膜上字写的几个字：看着办，懒鬼。

        我束手无策，“我哪会做饭……”

        多么可怕的星期天早晨！

        上一个星期天清晨，我被灼光照醒，刺眼的光线究竟是经房顶反射过来的还是从晃动的脊梁杆子折射过来的，我不得而知。

        “早，老弟。我是指挥官卡车神总管，你触犯了第三节第廿四条法规，平民百姓不得以任何形式的言论、思想或行动亵渎卡车劝告。由于杰弗里·斯坦博格的指控，法律顾问准许我亲自收押你，你会因此而受到审判和处置，服软吧，以免面临更进一步惩罚。

        我什么也没说 仍然无法摆脱赤身裸体的老家伙在距离我床两英尺远的上方神秘晃动一事。

        那家伙歪着脑袋，“老弟，你聋了？听不懂神说得话吗？”

        这个……

        “别介意。”他伸手抓住我胳膊，我好像一下子清醒起来。

        且慢！我没做错什么。

        “我们总会弄清楚的。”他抬了抬手，我感觉身体顺势也慢慢提了起来。

        等一下！我—兄弟，他真是罪犯，是他用卡车撞我的。

        “你说什么？”卡车神看似疑惑不解，“难道他用神圣的东西当杀伤武器？”

        我使劲地点头。

        “胆大包天！必须马上逮捕这个坏蛋！下面的会议推迟到以后再开。”

        他满眼放光，闪电劈啪作响，指挥官离去。

        我深深地吸了一口气，多么不寻常的星期天早晨。

        上个星期天早晨，我一觉醒来，身上拴着一只毛茸茸的羊—

        “好嘞，儿歌，我没让你这么写。”

        我仰头问道：“你不喜欢？”

        “不，不是，儿歌，你做得很棒，只不过这是写人而非你所说的。”

        “对不起坎贝尔太太，但提示真的没有特别说明。”

        我的英文老师抬起头来：“没错，儿歌，上个星期天到底发生了什么？”

        “我中午起床，打了一整天游戏。”

        “就写这个好了，记叙文是描述真人真事。”

        “但这太无聊，现实是……”

        多么无聊的星期天早晨。