bon ben j'ai tenté le défi mais c'est chaud chaud chaud ! donc soyez indulgents avec mon anglais minable et vive "Word reference"!!!
J'essayerai de lire et commenter les textes en langues étrangères dans les jours qui viennent, exercice peut-être même encore + difficile !
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— What’s your problem, guy ? You’re drinking since the morning ! I prefer advise you that nobody pay me to drive aground walrus at home ! I’ll close the bar in ten minutes and you’ll have to move your big bottom yourself !
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Too much times the week, the barman had to treat with similar cases. His compassion flied away a long time ago. Tonight, he was tired and really disgusted about the red face of Bob. Surely, the flow travelling in the drunkard’s veins was alcohol instead of blood.
Bob told with a seal voice :
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— Jimmy… You can’t understand the depth of my sadness. I made an essential discovery and the reality will never have the same taste for me. It’s terrible ! The only thing I can do is drowning. But I learnt to swim when I was child and I can’t sink ! That’s why I’m immersing in whisky. A good way to forget and die.
– Wow! You’re just a depressive alcoholic !
– You’re wrong. I’m a disenchanting scientific.
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Jimmy moved away to clean up glasses and bottles. Bob was the last client in the bar. The tables behind him were empty and the barman turn over chairs on them quickly. The radio broadcast a love song that Jimmy hummed as he swept the damaged old linoleum.
Bob tried to get up, stumbled and caught the counter painfully. He sat once again on his stool and shouted :
— Do as if I wasn’t there !
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Jimmy breathed heavily and didn’t answer. The air smelt transpiration and smoke, it was the last sense who stand when all the customers were left. The barman opened two windows and the door to make a salutary draught. Bob shivered and complained:
— Hey ! I’m here don’t you remember ?
— Shit ! I don’t care of you ! Leave this place !
— Jimmy… Help me to die if you’re a friend… But I don’t want to suffer… A death by cold doesn’t attract me, do you understand ?
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It was enough for the barman. He joined his irritating client and bang one’s fists on the table.
— I’m not your friend, Bob. Out of there !
— Oh, Jimmy… Don’t you want to know my discovery ?
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The barman offers to Bob it last chance to avoid violence. The stake was big : if Bob get out by himself, the risk to have to clean vomit, excrement or blood was reduce by half.
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— OK, if you explain it to me, you go out after ?
— Sure, sweety !
— So, I listen to your madness…
— It concerns anatomy !
— Uh ? Anatomy ?
— Yes. It’s really long to explain but my conclusions are serious. The man was made to fly. Something inserted a mistake in our genetic code to control our development. We should have wings. I suspect an animal flying specie to dominate human beings without knowing. Perhaps, we’re believing that we take decisions, that we are free, and it’s just an illusion. Do you understand what it means ?
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Jimmy scratched his shoulder. He pushed his keys on the ground with the other hand, get down to pick it. As he get up, he waved a gun and shouted Bob four times. A blood river flew along the stool.
Finally alone, he stretched his wings, great pleasure. Five minutes later, he left the bar.
Désolé, vous n'êtes pas autorisé à afficher le contenu du spoiler.
Désolé, vous n'êtes pas autorisé à afficher le contenu du spoiler.