Chapter 6 six

6 This morning, all the colleagues in my office—four men and two women—were shot.There are three methods of execution in the world today: electric chair, gas, and firing squad.I like the last method, preferably with an old musket.The firing squad wore the red uniforms of the British Guards. The first row lay down, the second row knelt down, and the third row stood.The large flat-headed lead bullets brought burning pain, like flying dung beetles, and the people next to them fell to the ground one after another. How pleasant it would be if I could get hit-but I didn't get hit.I will be crucified.Shooting would be a waste of my size.As the afternoon approached, the sky turned dark.Night fell like a cool dew on the deserts of Egypt.At this time, I was untied from the wall, and among the spears, I walked to the execution place in the middle of the desert, to the cross.Cleopatra sat in a golden litter, dignified and haughty.The cross in the night looks like a tall cactus from a distance... Countless crows are circling nearby.I looked sideways at the crows, afraid they would peck my eyes out before I died.Cleopatra put his hand on my shoulder—those silkworm-like fingers caused sharp pains on the red and swollen skin—and said softly: Don't worry.I won't let them eat you.I didn't believe her words, I looked up at the two crossed pieces of wood in the twilight, sucked my breath through my teeth and said: It doesn't matter, let them eat it.Saying I don't care about things I don't believe in: that's how I keep my face.Whether the crow will eat me or not, we will know when I am nailed to it.Cleopatra raised her eyebrows in surprise, took a breath first, and then said: So you can talk!

When I was about to leave work, the editor-in-chief of the company officially informed me that the stories in the Egyptian desert were divorced from my life, and I was not allowed to write any more.The caller also complained to me: I wrote something nonsense-you are also an old comrade, why don't you understand a little bit of propriety.I was overjoyed to be shot by the editor-in-chief.The editor-in-chief speaks with a nasal voice, his words are like a flying dung beetle.He also said: The progress of the new version of "Teacher-Student Love" should be accelerated, and the collection will be published next month.I didn't say anything, but I knew I would speed up.As for the story of the dinosaurs, no one mentioned it.It seems that "gram" didn't report it, but my request can't be too high.When I got the call, I breathed a sigh of relief—I had finally been shot—and decided to just hang out for a while.If someone came to find out what was wrong with me, I would say: I have been shot, why don't you stay in a daze.Mentioning that he was shot, he was like a dignitary in front of others.Please don't think that I am not qualified to be shot because I have been in the company for more than ten years.As soon as I was in a daze, everyone in the room was stunned, facing the monochrome computer with their heads in their hands; Li Qingzhao probably faced a mirror like this when he was alive.The mirrors of the Song Dynasty were not of high quality, and the figures in them had bloated faces and dark colors—people walked into such mirrors just to be in a daze.Today, we are all Li Qingzhao.This result can be regarded as happy.Suddenly there was a rattling sound from the corner of the room, and someone pulled away the chair and walked towards me.It turns out that there is another person who is not Li Qingzhao... I have a female colleague who always wears a brown long-sleeved suit regardless of the season.She was darker, with a big braid in her hair, a round, freckled nose and big eyes, like a cartoon rodent.Now she is coming towards me.She's pretty good looking, but that's not something I pay attention to.I always noticed that she was tall and bulky, heavier than average, and wearing high heels.I never shot her manuscripts, and she never stepped on me—everyone respected each other.Actually, there are four men and three women in this room, and I always miss her.But when she walks by me, I still have to stretch out my feet: it is her right to step on it or not, and I have to give her this opportunity.With such a mood, I put my feet where I could step on them, but I was uneasy.Suppose a pig squatted on the side of the road out of some queer motive, and stretched its tail out on the road to be crushed by passing cars. Then when it heard the sound of a car, it must think of its own tail with the same anxiety. , and comforted myself by saying: The driver will see it, he won’t press me... Who knows, with a “squeak”, I was stepped on by her, and the pain was directly imprinted in my brain. There is a sense of loss - when I walk by, "K" sticks out her foot, but I never step on it; if a body like me steps on it, she is going to get a plaster cast... That is to say, people Let you step on it, you don't have to step on it.I couldn't help snorting.Because of this moan, the brown female colleague stopped, first asked if it hurts, and then said: She wants to talk to me about something tonight.As the leader, you cannot refuse to talk to your subordinates, whether it is day or night.I'm going to talk about it until night, but I'm already starting to have a headache.

"In the teacher's bedroom, I hugged her and felt an impulse, so I hugged her tightly, wanting to violate her body; this body was like a white haze, full of vitality... She fiercely She pushed me and said, "Damn it! Get up! I let her go, lay on my back, and stretched my arms up——and stretched out to the radiator under the window sill. This radiator is hot and cold in winter. , the temperature is pleasant when it is cold, and the steamed buns can be burnt when it is hot. In winter, the teacher bakes steamed buns on top; put it on at noon, and when you come back at night, the top is baked brown, which is very similar to the baked buns that live together—the same Heju is a restaurant. In winter, some briquettes stoves are built, with copper kettles on them, and white flour steamed buns strung together with chopsticks. Actually, there is heating in that restaurant, but they deliberately burn briquettes stoves—one day Back then, my wrist was baked by the heating to form a bunch of big blisters. The teacher applied some green ointment to me and told me a meal, but this happened in winter. What happened in summer was that I lay like this, sinking into the I fell silent, thinking I was disgusting; and the teacher climbed on me and made love to me. I straightened my body and stretched it towards the teacher. But there was still a little discomfort in the bottom of my heart-the teacher said me. I I have a lot of grudges." I know what it looks like when I'm unhappy: leaden gray worry on that long face.If I can avoid unhappiness, I try to avoid it, so I don't want to write this detail.But there is no such restriction this afternoon: I have already started to feel unhappy..." She patted my face and said: What, are you angry? I slowly replied: Why are you angry? I am too heavy, one hundred and fifteen kilograms She said: It has nothing to do with you being too heavy - I will tell you later. But after a while, she didn't say anything to me.

Later, I found out that whether she had sex or not, she liked to straddle me, and she also liked to write scribbles on my chest with a ballpoint pen: the writing was in traditional Chinese characters, and it was written vertically, often writing on my chest like a Beijing bus the stop sign.She also said that my body is a very comfortable place to lie down, of course, this refers to my stomach.There are some soft organs in the stomach: the large intestine and small intestine, so it is very soft, and it is warm in winter and cool in summer, like a water bed.The chest is different, it has a lot of hard ribs, which is very sharp.There are two large lungs inside, which make noise when they inhale and exhale.I still have a big heart in my chest, beating very loudly.

This place sweats a lot, and it’s not warm in winter and cool in summer—to be honest, I don’t want my teacher to sleep in this place either.It doesn't matter if you put someone on your chest for a while, but you will be breathless after a long time.As you know, I was a recognized genius growing up.When I was lying under the teacher, I felt that I could always figure out a way to prevent the teacher from hatching me like an egg.But I can't think of any way.Not only that, but I couldn't even move.As long as I moved a little, she said: Don't move...don't move.Comfortable. "The story with my teacher happened over and over again, and every time it was like this - I had to fall asleep under her weight. I couldn't sleep under the "brown" female colleague. She was too sunk.