Chapter 15 15. Grim Wonderland (whiskey, torture, Turgenev)

The big guy was beating out my store of whiskey in the sink until there wasn't a single bottle left--not a single bottle left.I became acquainted with the owner of the nearby hotel, and every time he dealt with whiskey at a discount, he would send a bottle or two, and I now have a considerable stock. The big guy first smashed 2 bottles of Wild Tessie, then started to smash Scotch C·S, destroyed 3 bottles of I·W, smashed 2 bottles of Jack Daniels, buried Lauces, reimbursed Hegg, Finally, half a dozen Chivas Regal was sent to the west.The sound shook the heavens and the earth, and the smell rushed straight to Xiaohan.After all, what was smashed at the same time was enough whiskey to last me for half a year. Of course, the smell was not trivial, and the room smelled of alcohol.

"You can get drunk just by staying here." The little man said with emotion. Desperate, I sat at the table with my chin propped up, watching the shattered wine bottles piling up in the sink.What is above must fall, and what is visible must disintegrate.Accompanied by the sound of the wine bottle exploding, the big man whistled harshly.It sounded more like a toothbrush rubbing against the jagged profile of an air crack than a whistle.The title of the song cannot be heard, or there is no melody, but the toothbrush rubs the section up or down or goes in and out in the middle.It feels like the nerves are being worn out.I turned my neck frequently and poured the beer down my throat.Stomach pouch as hard as a field bank clerk's briefcase.

The hunk continues to wreak havoc that is pointless.Of course, there might be something to them, but not to me.He turned the bed over and cut the mattress with a knife.Then he emptied the clothes in the closet and threw all the desk drawers on the ground.Then the switchboard of the air conditioner was removed, the trash can was kicked over, and the contents of the drawers were smashed and smashed in different ways.Resolute and decisive, simply neat. After the bedroom and living room were reduced to ruins, they moved to the kitchen immediately.The little guy and I went to the living room, put back the upside-down sofa with the cut back, and sat down to watch the big guy wreak havoc in the kitchen.It was a stroke of luck that the sofa cushions were almost intact.This sofa is extremely comfortable to sit on, and I bought it cheaply from a photographer acquaintance.The photographer is good at advertising photography, but unfortunately, something went wrong with his nerves, and he wanted to hide in the deep mountains and old forests of Nagano Prefecture. Before leaving, he disposed of the sofa in the office to me.Although I feel sorry for his nerves, I am still secretly glad that I can get this sofa.At least you don't have to buy another one.

I'm sitting on the right side of the sofa holding a can of beer in both hands, and the little guy is leaning on his legs on the left side.Although the voice was so loud, no one from the neighbors came to ask.Almost all the people living on this floor are single, and if there are not quite exceptional reasons, it is almost empty during the daytime on weekdays.These two people must have known about the situation to make such a reckless and shocking price, right?Somewhat possible.They both knew it all.On the surface, it seems reckless, but in action, he is careful and careful, and there is no omission.

The little man glanced at the Rolex from time to time to confirm the progress of the work, while the big man stabbed back and forth in the room steadily and relentlessly, leaving nothing behind.After such a search, he might not even have a place to hide a pencil, but they - as the little man initially declared - searched nothing but destroyed. Why? Do you want the third party to think that they have searched everything? Who is the third party? I stopped thinking, drank the last sip of beer, and put the empty can on the coffee table.The big man opened the sideboard, swept the glass to the ground, and then attacked the plate.The coffee pot with filter, the tea pot, the salt shaker, the sugar pot, and the flour pot were all smashed to pieces, and the rice was scattered all over the floor.Frozen food in the freezer has suffered the same fate.About a dozen frozen prawns, a hunk of sirloin, ice cream, butter of the highest quality, chunks of salted salmon roe up to 30 centimeters long, and a trial tomato sauce, all with the sound of meteorites hitting asphalt , rolled in disarray on the linoleum floor.

Furthermore, the big man picked up the refrigerator with both hands, moved forward first, and then pushed the refrigerator door down to the ground.The wiring to the radiator was probably broken, and tiny sparks flew out.I have a big headache: how to explain the cause of the failure to the appliance repairman who comes to repair it? The destruction ends as abruptly as it began, with no "buts" or "buts."There was no "however" or "but", and it suddenly stopped completely, and a long silence enveloped the surroundings.The big man stopped whistling, and stood at the door of the kitchen and living room, looking at me with blank eyes.I don't know how long it took my room to look like this.About 15 minutes to 30 minutes.Longer than 15 minutes and shorter than 30 minutes.But judging by the satisfied expression on the little man's eye as he gazes at the dial of his Rolex, I suspect that this may come close to destroying the standard time required for a two-bedroom house.From the time required for a full marathon to the length of toilet paper used in one sitting, the world is full of various standard values.

"I'm afraid it will take a lot of time to tidy up," said the little man. "Well," I said, "and it costs money." "It doesn't matter whether money is money or not. This is a war! You can't win a war by calculating money." "Not my war." "It doesn't matter whose war it is. It doesn't matter whose money it is. That's what war is all about. Fate." The little man took out a snow-white handkerchief from his pocket, covered his mouth and coughed two or three times.He checked the handkerchief for a while, and put it back in his original pocket.Perhaps out of prejudice, I don't trust men with handkerchiefs.That's how I have so many prejudices.Therefore, they are not very popular, and because they are not liked, there will be more and more prejudices.

"Shortly after we're gone, the 'organization' will come. They're going to investigate us, see what we break into your room, and ask you where the skull is. But you don't know anything about the skull. Get it? No You can’t tell what you know, and you can’t show what you don’t have, even if you are tortured. So when we came, we went back empty-handed.” "Torture?" "Lest you be suspected, those guys don't know that you go to the doctor's place, and we are the only ones who know this at the moment. So you won't be harmed. You are an excellent calculator, and those guys must believe you and think we are a 'factory' ’, and set to work. We’ve already figured it out.”

"Torture?" I asked, "Torture, how?" "I'll tell you later, don't worry." "What if I tell the people in the headquarters the truth about the sorting operation?" I tried to ask. "In that case, you will be killed by them." The little man said, "This is not lying to you, really! You went to the doctor to perform forbidden fuzzy calculations without telling the organization. This alone is not trivial, let alone The doctor is experimenting with you again. This is not a joke! You are in a much more dangerous situation than you think. Listen, frankly, you have one foot on the bridge rail, think about where to go It’s only good if you fall on the edge. After you fall, you will regret it.”

We looked at each other on the left and right ends of the sofa. "Just one thing to ask," I said, "what is the benefit of me helping you lie to the Organization? As a matter of fact, calculators belong to the Organization after all, and I know nothing about you. Why should I bother?" What about colluding with outsiders to deceive your own people?" "It's very simple," said the little man. "We have the general situation you're in, and we're using you. And your organization is barely aware of your situation. If we were aware of it, we'd probably get rid of you. Our Estimated to hit every shot. Simple, right?"

"But the Organization will find out sooner or later, no matter the circumstances. The Organization is huge, and it's not stupid." "Maybe." The little man said, "but it will take a while. And in that time, if it goes well, we or you may be able to solve their respective problems. The so-called choice is such a thing. Try to choose There are many possibilities, even if it is only 1% more. This is the same as playing chess. When you are frustrated, you run away, and the opponent is likely to make mistakes in the process of running away. Even the most powerful opponents cannot guarantee that they will not make mistakes.So……" As he spoke, the little man looked at his watch and snapped his fingers at the big man.Immediately, the big man suddenly raised his chin like a robot plugged in, and came to the sofa in two or three steps, and stood firmly in front of me like a screen.No, it's not so much a screen, it's more like a giant screen in an open-air movie theater, blocking everything in front of you.The light on the ceiling was completely covered by him, and the faint shadow enveloped me. I suddenly remembered the scene of watching a solar eclipse on campus when I was young.Everyone put candle oil on the glass to replace the filter to watch the sun.It is nearly a quarter of a century ago, and a quarter of a century seems to have brought me to some marvelous place. "Then," repeated the little man, "you'll need to be a little uncomfortable going on. It's okay to be a little—or quite uncomfortable. It's for your own sake, so please be patient. We don't really want to be talented. , I have no choice but to take off my pants!" I reluctantly took off my pants.Resistance doesn't help either. "Kneeling on the ground!" I obediently evacuated from the sofa and knelt down on the carpet.There's something weird about kneeling on the floor in just a sweatshirt and shorts.But before I was allowed to think about it, the big man went around behind his back and inserted his hands under my armpits, wrapping his hands around my wrists.Its movements are done in one go, just right.Of course I don't feel the tightness of being strangled, but if I try to move my body a little bit, my shoulders and wrists feel like being twisted.Next, he used his feet to firmly fix my ankles.In this way, I am completely immobile like shooting a fake duck on the ledge of the playroom. The little man went to the kitchen to get back the sharp knife that the big man put on the table, popped out the blade about 7 cm, took out a lighter from his pocket, and carefully burned the blade.The knife itself is small and exquisite, so it doesn't give people a sense of cruelty.But I could tell at a glance that it wasn't the kind of cheap stuff sold at the nearby grocery store.As far as cutting the human body is concerned, its size is more than enough.The human body is different from the body of a bear, soft as a peach, with a 7 cm blade that can basically do whatever you want. Use fire to sterilize the poison, and the little man waits for a while so that the blade can cool down.He then placed his left hand on the elastic band of my belly in my white shorts and pulled it down to the half-exposed part of my penis. "It hurts a bit, so I gritted my teeth and endured it," he said. I felt a tennis ball-sized lump of air rushing from my stomach to my throat, and beads of sweat came out of my nose.I was terrified, afraid of hurting my penis.If injured, there will never be an erection. But the little guy didn't hurt my penis at all, but made a horizontal cut of about 6 cm about 5 cm below my navel.The sharp blade that was still hot was gently eaten into my lower abdomen, and I pulled it to the right as if drawing a line with a ruler.I was trying to get my belly in but I couldn't move because my big head was on my back.What's more, the little man was holding my penis tightly with his left hand.I felt that all the sweat pores on my body were breaking out in cold sweat.After a while, a dull pain suddenly hit.The little man wiped off the blood on the knife edge with a tissue, put away the blade, and the big man left my body immediately.Seeing the blood stain my white shorts red.The big guy brought another towel from the bathroom, and I took it to cover the wound. "Seven stitches are enough." The little man said, "It will leave a scar to some extent, but fortunately, others can't see it at that position. It's pitiful, but after all, people have good and bad times, so just bear with it." I took the towel away from the wound to see how it was cut.The wound was not very deep, but the pale pink flesh with blood was still visible. "As soon as we left, someone from the 'organization' rushed over, and you showed the wound, saying that we threatened you and forced you to tell the whereabouts of the skull, otherwise we would have to dig deeper, but since I really don't know where the skull is, I can't tell. , That's why we left helplessly. This is torture. We got serious and did more than this. But this level is enough. If there are a few more opportunities, I will definitely tell you to take a closer look at the more powerful ones. " I covered my belly with a towel and nodded silently.I can't explain the reason, but I think it's better to obey what you say. "But you really hired that poor gas guy?" I asked. "Did you stumble on purpose so I could be more careful and hide the skull and data?" "Smart," said the little man, glancing at the big man's face, "that's how the brain works. That's how you survive the competition, if you're lucky." After speaking, the two left the room.They don't have to open the door, they don't have to close the door.The stainless steel door of my room, with its handle missing and its four frames distorted, is now open to the world. I took off the blood-stained shorts, threw them into the trash, and wiped away the blood around the wound with a soft, soaked gauze.Every time I bent back and forth, the wound would be hot and painful.There was also blood on the front of the sweatshirt, which was also thrown away.Then, I fiddled with the scattered clothes for a long time, picked out a T-shirt and a pair of minimal briefs that were not conspicuous even if stained with blood, and wore them. Then, I went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of plain water, thinking about the problem while waiting for the "organization" to come. After 30 minutes, three people came to the headquarters.One is the domineering young male liaison who often comes to my place for data.The man was wearing, as usual, a dark suit, white shirt, and tie like a bank loan officer.The other two were wearing sneakers with rubber soles and wearing the clothes of porters for the transportation company.But they don't look like bank clerks and porters in any way, only with the help of this unobtrusive attire.The eyes are always looking back and forth, and the muscles of the body are tense all the time, so as to cope with all situations at any time. They also didn't knock on the door, and went straight into the room with their shoes on.The two people who looked like porters inspected the room carefully, and the liaison officer listened to the situation from me.He took out a black leather handbook from the inside pocket of his jacket and jotted down talking points with a Sharpie.I said two people came to search for the skull and showed the abdominal wound.The other party looked at the wound for a while, but did not express any thoughts. "Skull? What the hell is a skull?" he asked. "Where do I know what a skull is?" I said, "I still want to ask someone." "I really don't have an impression?" the young liaison officer asked in a calm voice. "This is extremely important. Please recall it carefully. It will be too late to change your words later. The signers will not take unnecessary actions without reason. Since they came to your room to search for skulls, there is evidence that there are skulls in your room. Zero produces nothing. And the skull is searchable. You can't think you have nothing to do with the skull." "Since the skull is so precious, please tell the meaning of the skull, huh?" I said. The liaison was tapping away at the manual with a Sharpie nib. "That's where the investigation begins," he said. "A thorough investigation. Nothing can hide from us if you're serious about it. Once it's found out that you've been hiding something, it's a big deal. Do you understand?" Got it, I said.No matter what happens, no one can figure out what will happen in the future. "We have vaguely sensed that the symbolists are plotting something. Those guys have started to move. But we still can't figure out their specific intentions, and it may have something to do with you. The meaning of the skull is still unclear. But the number of hints is increasing , the closer we get to the heart of the matter. There's no question about that." "What should I do?" "Be vigilant and rest your body. Please quit your job temporarily. Contact us immediately if there is any situation. Is the phone working?" I picked up the handset and tried it, and the phone was safe and sound.Probably the two of them intentionally placed the phone to save their lives.Exactly how is of course unknown. "It works." I said. "Okay," he said, "please contact me immediately even if it's a small matter, don't try to solve it by yourself, don't deliberately hide anything. Those guys are not easy to mess with, and I'm afraid they won't be able to deal with it next time." "Tummy scratch?" I couldn't help blurting out. The two men dressed as porters who inspected the room returned to the kitchen after completing their task. "A thorough search," said the older one, "no one survived, and the sequence was flawless. It must have been done by a veteran." The liaison officer nodded, and the two left the room.Just me and the liaison. "Why do you have to cut off your clothes when searching for a skull?" I asked. "There's no way to hide a skull in that place—even if it's a skull." "Those guys are old hands. Old hands don't let go of any possibility: You might store the skull in a self-locker and hide the key somewhere. The key can be hidden anywhere." "That makes sense," I said.It does make sense. "But the signers didn't give you any advice?" "suggestion?" "It is a suggestion aimed at pulling you into the 'factory', such as money, status, etc., or a hard hand." "That's not what I heard." I replied, "I just cut the belly to find out the skull." "Pay attention, listen carefully," said the liaison officer, "Even if those guys lure you into the water with sweet words, you must not be swayed. If you fight back, we will chase you to the ends of the earth and get rid of you. This is not a joke, it's a promise Sure. We have the backing of our country, and we can do anything.” "Just be careful," I said. After they left, I began to sort out the development of things.But no matter how neatly I sorted it out, I had no way out.The crux of the problem lies in what the doctor wants to do. If this point is not clarified, all inferences will be impossible.Also, I couldn't figure out what kind of thoughts were churning in the old man's head at all. Only one thing is clear: I betrayed the "organization", even though I had to.Once the truth came out—sooner or later—as the domineering liaison had predicted, I was in a rather embarrassing situation, even if I had to lie because of threats.Even if I confess to my servant, I'm afraid I won't be forgiven by those people. After thinking about it, the wound started to hurt again, so I opened the phone book, found the phone number of a taxi company nearby, and called a car to take me to the hospital to bandage the wound.I pressed the wound with a towel, put on a pair of fat pants, and put on shoes.When I put on my shoes and bend forward, it hurts like my body is about to split in two.In fact, the abdomen was only cut with a 2-3 mm wide opening, and the whole person became so miserable that he could neither wear shoes normally nor go up and down the stairs. I took the elevator downstairs, sat under the tree at the door, and waited for the taxi to arrive.The hands point to 1:30 in the afternoon.It was only two and a half hours since the two broke in.However, these two and a half hours were unusually long, as if 10 hours had passed. Housewives with shopping baskets walked past me in an endless stream.Green onions and radishes peek out from the openings of shopping bags in supermarkets.I can't help being a little envious of them.They will not be smashed into the refrigerator, nor will they be cut in the stomach by a knife.Just think about the way the onions and radishes are prepared and the grades of the children, and the years will flow smoothly.They don't have to cling to unicorn skulls, and their heads don't have to be plagued by inexplicable codes and complicated programs.This is ordinary life.I thought about the frozen shrimp jelly beef and buttery tomato sauce that was probably melting right now on the kitchen floor.I must eat all of it today, but I have no appetite at all. The postman arrived on a super dual-purpose bicycle and skillfully put the mail into the mailboxes lined up next to the gate.While watching, I found that some mailboxes were full, while others were empty.He didn't even touch my mailbox, he dismissed it.Next to the letterbox is a potted rubber tree with ice cream sticks and cigarette butts thrown in the pot.Looks like the rubber tree is as tired as I am labor.People throw cigarette butts in it at will and tear the leaves at will.When did potted rubber trees start to grow here?I have no memory of it at all.Judging from the degree of dirt, it must have been placed for a long time.I pass in front of it every day without noticing it until I end up waiting for a cab outside with a knife slashed in my belly. The doctor looked at my wound and asked me why I got it like this. "A bit of trouble with women," I said.Also unexplainable.Anyone who saw it was obviously a knife wound. "In this case, as the man, we have the obligation to report to the police." The doctor said. "It's difficult for the police." I said, "It's my fault. Fortunately, the injury is not deep, so let it be private. Please!" The doctor muttered for a while, but finally stopped insisting, and asked me to lie on the bed to disinfect the wound, gave me a few injections, and took out the needle and thread to suture the wound quickly.Then the nurse glared at me suspiciously.With a snap, apply thick gauze to the injured area, and secure it with something like a rubber strap around the waist.I myself think it's kind of funny. "Do as little exercise as possible," said the doctor. "And don't drink, don't have sex, don't laugh too much. Better read and take it easy. Come back tomorrow." I thanked me, paid at the window, received anti-inflammatory drugs and returned to my residence.And following the doctor's advice, he leaned on the bed and watched Turgenev's "Luoting".I wanted to watch "Spring Tide".But it took a lot of trouble to find this book in this ruined room, and after thinking about it, "Spring Tide" is not much better than "Luo Ting". So I put a bandage on my waist and fell on the bed before it was too late to read Turgenev's novels full of classical sentiments.Watching and watching, I began to feel that everything doesn't matter.Nothing that happened during these three days was of my own making. Everything came to the door on my own initiative, and I was just implicated. I went into the kitchen and plucked at the shards of whiskey bottles rising high in the sink.Almost all the wine bottles were smashed to pieces, and the fragments were scattered everywhere. Only the bottom half of a bottle of Imperial brand survived, and there was still about a glass of whiskey in it.I poured it into the glass and looked at the light, but found no glass shards. I went to bed with the glass and continued to read while drinking lukewarm whiskey.It was 15 years ago that I was still in college when I watched "Luo Ting" for the first time. Fifteen years later I re-read this book with a bandage around my waist.During the re-reading, I realized that I began to have similar kindness towards Luo Ting than before.Man cannot correct his own shortcomings.Temper is a thing that is settled before the age of twenty-five, and no matter how hard you try after that, you can't change its essence.The problem is that people tend to stick to how the outside world reacts to their temperament.Also with the help of drunkenness, I have some sympathy for Luo Ting.The characters in Dostoevsky's novels are hardly sympathetic, but with Turgenev's heroes there is immediate sympathy.I even sympathize with the characters in the "87 Branch" series of novels.This is probably because I have many shortcomings in human nature.People with many faults often sympathize with those with the same faults.When there are many shortcomings in the characters of Dostoevsky's novels Sometimes it is difficult to make people see shortcomings, so it is impossible for me to pour 100% sympathy for their shortcomings.The shortcomings of Tolstoy's characters are often too obvious and too static. After reading the pocket book "Roting", I threw it on the bookshelf, and went to the sink to find a decent whiskey wreck.I found a little bit of Jack Daniel's black brand whiskey left at the bottom of a bottle, I quickly poured it into a glass, and went back to bed to watch Stendhal's.In short, I seem to like watching works that are behind the times.How many young people are watching it in today's era?Anyway, as I read it, I fell in love with Julien Sorel again.The fact that Julien Sorel's faults were fixed before the age of fifteen aroused my sympathy.The various elements of life are fixed at the age of 15, which is also very unbearable in the eyes of others.The same is true of his throwing himself into prison.Huddled in the world with four walls, he kept marching towards destruction. Something hits my heart. It's the wall! The world is surrounded by walls. I closed the book, poured the little black-label whiskey down my throat, and thought for a long time about the world with four walls.I can easily run in my mind the image of pushing out the wall and the door, the wall is very high, the door is very big, and there is silence.I was in it.However, my consciousness is very hazy and I can't see the surrounding scenery clearly.The whole city is visible - down to the smallest detail.Only my surroundings are confusing.Someone calls me from the opposite side of this opaque veil. It's almost like a movie lens.I began to recall whether there were such scenes in the historical films I had seen before.But neither "The Invincible General" nor "Ben Ha", nor "The Ten Commandments" nor "The Holy Cloth" have such scenes.Well, this scene is probably just a whim of mine. What the wall implies, I think it must be my framed life.The silence is the sequelae of silence.The reason for the haze around you is because the imagination is facing a destructive crisis.It was probably the pink lady who called me. After analyzing the fantasies that surged up in this moment, I opened the book again.But I can no longer focus on the book.I think, my life is zero, nothing, nothing at all.What have I done so far?have done nothing.Who is happy?Didn't make anyone happy.I have no wife, no friends, no door, not a single door.The penis is downcast, and even work is in jeopardy. The peaceful world of the cello and the Greek language, which were my ultimate purpose in life, was in crisis.If the job is lost, I don't have the financial resources to make it happen anyway.Besides, if you are chased to the ends of the earth by the "organization", you will naturally have no time to recite irregular Greek verbs. I closed my eyes, took a breath of air as deep as an Inca well, and went back again.What has been lost has been lost, and no matter how much you think about it, it is irreparable. When I noticed, it was completely dark.Turgenev and Stendhal's night closed around me.Perhaps because he lay still and did not move, the incision in his belly was somewhat less painful.Although the dull and vague pain like drumming in the distance from the incision to the flank from time to time, once it passes, it goes down without incident, enough to make people forget about the wound. The hour hand is pointing at 7:20, and I still have no appetite .5:30am with milk and a sandwich that didn't work, then a bit of potato salad in the kitchen and nothing in it so far.My stomach seems to harden at the thought of food.I was exhausted, lacked sleep, and my belly was cracked. The room was in a mess as if it had been blasted by the Lilliputian engineering team, and there was no room for appetite. A few years ago I read a science fiction novel about a world littered with rubbish and reduced to ruins, and my room looked exactly like it.All kinds of rubbish were scattered on the ground: split three-piece suits, destroyed VCRs and TV sets, broken vases, desk lamps with broken necks, trampled records, tomato juice flowing in the sea, intermittent Loudspeaker cords . . . the shirts and underwear that were thrown about were mostly so soiled by shoed feet, splashed with ink, or stained with grape juice that they were almost unusable.It turned out that a plate of grapes on the bedside table that I started eating 3 days ago was thrown all over the ground and trampled to pieces.The self-contained portfolios of Joseph Conrad and Thomas Hardy were doused with filthy vases.A gladiolus arrangement fell on the chest of a beige cashmere sweater like a tribute to the fallen, and the sleeves were stained the size of a golf ball with the blue ink specially produced by the West German company Pelican. All turned into waste. A pile of waste that has nowhere to digest.Microorganisms die and become oil, and big trees fall into coal seams.And everything here is an out-and-out waste product that has no destination.Where can the destroyed VCR go? I went into the kitchen again and fiddled with the shards of the whiskey bottle in the sink.Sadly no drop of whiskey was ever to be found again.The remaining whiskey failed to enter my stomach, but like Orpheus, it all flowed down the sewer into the underground nothingness, into the world where night ghosts run rampant. While fiddling with the sink, the middle fingertip of his right hand was scratched by a piece of glass.I watched for a long time as the blood spilled from my fingertips and then dripped onto the whiskey label.After a major injury, this minor injury was no surprise.No one died from bleeding from a fingertip. I let the blood flow until the Lauces logo is dyed red.But the blood flowed endlessly, so I had no choice but to stop looking, wipe the wound clean with paper towels, and wrap it up with medical tape. Seven or eight empty beer cans rolled on the kitchen floor, like shell casings from a cannonball battle.So I picked it up.The surface of the tank has long been lukewarm, but it is better than nothing.I went to bed with a can of beer in each hand, sipping and watching.As me, I really want to use alcohol to eliminate the tension accumulated in the body for three days, and take advantage of the trend to sleep.No matter how turbulent tomorrow is - it's pretty much guaranteed - I'm going to get as much sleep as I can, at least as long as the Earth spins once like Michael Jackson.New disputes should be accompanied by a new sense of hopelessness. Nearly 9 o'clock, the Sandman struck.Sleepiness is willing to patronize my deserted little room like the back of the moon.I threw the three-quarters read on the floor, flipped the surviving bedside light switch, hunched sideways, and fell asleep.I am a little fetus in this barren room, and no one can disturb me until I should wake up.I'm the prince of despair surrounded by strife, and I'll sleep until the golf-ball-sized toad of the "people" comes to kiss me. However, unexpectedly, I only slept for less than two hours.At 11 o'clock in the middle of the night, a fat girl in a pink suit and skirt came up and shook my shoulders.It seemed that my sleep had become an auction item with an astonishingly low price. Everyone approached in turn and kicked my sleep like knocking on a half-worn car tire.They should not have such rights.I'm not a half used car, even though it's half new. "Get out of the way!" I said. "Hey, please, get up, please!" the girl said. "Get out of the way!" I repeated. "It's not time to sleep!" the girl said, pounding my side with her fist.A throbbing pain ran through my body like the gates of hell had been opened. "Get up," she said, "the world is going to be over!"