Chapter 8 Part 1 (5)

The situation that day was that I woke up very late and checked my watch that it was almost half past seven.As you can imagine, this is not so smart.Because, in this evil world, if people don't know about things, unless they do nothing about it, they will always be rewarded.exactly.The stereo is no longer singing "Joy" and "I hug you a million times", someone must have turned it off, it's either P or M, and you can tell that they are both in the living room now.The clinking of cups and plates, and the gurgling of tea, meant that one of them was in the factory and the other was eating after a long day's work in the shop.poor old man.Miserable old fellows.I put on my nightgown, and with the appearance of an only son who loves his parents, I poked my head out and said:

"Hello guys. Feeling better after a day off. Going to work the night shift for that little money." They say believe me I'm working the night shift these days. "Yum, yum, yum, it's delicious, mom, do you have mine?" Like a quick-frozen pie, she thawed it and warmed it up, not so tempting, but I have to say that.Dad looked at me with displeased and suspicious eyes, and didn’t speak, even if he didn’t dare. Mom smiled at me tiredly, pointing at the fallen flesh, my only son.I jumped into the bathroom feeling dirty and sticky and took a quick shower before heading back to my room to put on my evening platties.Then, freshened up, I sat down to eat a pie.Dad said, "I'm not meddling, son, where on earth do you work the night shift?"

"Oh," I chewed, "most of them are odd jobs, helpers and so on. It depends on the situation." I gave him a look, as if to say that if you take care of yourself, I will also take care of yourself, "I am Didn’t you never ask for change? Money for clothes, money for games? Well, what else do you ask?” My dad endured the humiliation and muttered in his mouth. "I'm sorry, son," he said, "but I'm worried about you! Sometimes I have nightmares, and you may think it ridiculous, but there are many long nights, and I dreamed of you last night, and it's not a joy."

"Oh?" He aroused my interest. He dreamed of me. I felt that I had a dream too, but I couldn't remember what it was. "What?" I stopped chewing on the sticky pie. "It's real," Dad said. "I saw you lying in the street and being beaten up by other kids. Those kids are like the gang you used to hang out with before you were sent to the reform school last time." "Oh?" I snickered after listening to it. Dad really thought I had changed my course, or just believed it. Now I remembered my dream. That morning, General George was giving orders, and Dim was holding his whip and grinning. Chasing and beating.But someone told me that things in dreams should be viewed backwards. "Father, don't worry about your only son and only heir," I said. "Don't be afraid. He can take care of himself, really."

Dad said, "You seem to be lying helpless in a pool of blood, unable to fight back." It was really upside down, so I snickered a little again, and then I took all the leaves out of my pocket and slammed them on the clean tablecloth .I say: "Here, Pa, it's not much money. It was earned last night. Give you and Mama a drink of Scotch in some pub." "Thank you son," he said. "But we don't go out to drink very much. We dare not go out. The streets are messy. Hooligans are rampant. But thank you very much. I'll buy her a bottle and bring it back tomorrow." He took the ill-gotten gains and stuffed them in Trouser pocket, mom is washing dishes in the kitchen.I went out with a big smile on my face.

I was a little taken aback when I went down to the bottom of the apartment stairs.Not only surprised, but tongue-tied.They were already waiting for me, standing in front of the scribbled public welfare wall paintings.As mentioned earlier, it is a nude painting of naked men and women turning on the machine with a serious expression, showing the dignity of labor, but there are naughty children scribbling dirty words on the edge of their mouths with pencils.Holding a big and thick black oil paint stick in his hand, Dim painted the swear words on the public service painting in a big way.When George and Peter greeted me with their bright teeth, he called over his shoulder, "Here he comes, he's showing up, Ulla," and did an awkward half-pointe dance.

"We're worried," George said. "We're at the old milk bar. Waiting and drinking, you're probably mad at something, so we're running after the den. Peter, aren't we?" "Yes, that's right," said Peter. "Yes—no—up," I answered cautiously. "I, Gulliver, was in a bit of pain, so I had to sleep. I ordered to be woken up, but it didn't. Fortunately, everyone is here, ready to see the night's presents, isn't it?" Learned the "right?" mantra.Really weird. "Is the headache all right?" George asked, seemingly very concerned. "Maybe Gulliver is overused, bossy, disciplined or something. Surely it doesn't hurt? Wouldn't it be better to go back to sleep?" They all laughed.

"Wait," I said, "let's clear things up. Excuse my wording, the sarcasm doesn't suit you, boys. Maybe you've whispered behind my back, come on." Little joke or something. As your buddy and boss, I'm sure I'm entitled to know what's going on? Well, Dim, what's that smirk foreshadowing?" For Tim opened his mouth wide, laughing silently.George quickly interjected: "Okay, stop bullying Dim, bro. That's Zita" "New posture?" I asked. "What the hell is this new pose? There must have been some sort of blah blah blah while I was sleeping. Let me know." I crossed my arms and listened, leaning loosely on the broken stair railing, standing on the first floor. Three flights of stairs, a head above them, even though they call themselves buddies.

"Don't be mad, Alex," said Peter, "we're trying to make things more democratic and not let you have the final say. Don't be mad." George said: "Whether you are angry or not depends on who has more ideas. What idea did he come up with?" He looked at me boldly. "It's all small things, like the pediatrics last night. We have grown up, brother us." "What else?" I asked calmly. "I still want to hear it." "Okay," said George, "listen to what you want. We hang around, shoplifting and all, and get a handful of pitiful bills each. There's an English Will at the Bodyguard Café, what? Anyone who wants to get anything, he can sell it. Something shiny, jewelry," he said, still looking at me coldly. "A lot of money is ready, that's what British Will said."

"Ah," I said, tightening my grip on him. "When did you start dealing with England Will?" "On and off," said George, "I'm on my own, like last Sunday, and I can live on my own, can't I, buddy?" I don't like that much, brethren.I asked: "What are you going to do with this huge amount of money? It's an exaggeration, don't you have everything? If you need a car, you can go to the tree to pick it; if you need money, you can get it. Right?" ? Why are you suddenly keen on being a fat capitalist?" "Ah," said George, "you think questions and talk like a child sometimes." Dim laughed at that. "Tonight," said George, "we're gonna do a grown-up heist."

So, the dream came true.General George was gesticulating, and Dim, whip in hand, grinned like a horned bulldog without a brain.But I dealt with it carefully, carefully, never sloppily, and said with a smile: "Very good. Really good. Subjectivity is for people who wait. I have taught you a lot, boy, tell me what you think, George kid." "Oh," George smiled slyly and treacherously, "go to the original milk first, isn't it bad? It's for warming up, boy, especially you. We started before you." "You said what was on my mind," I kept laughing. "I was just about to propose to dear old Corowa. Good, good. Lead the way, little George." I pretended to bow deeply, and smiled desperately, but I was thinking.On the street, I found that pre-planning is what fools do, while people with strong brains use inspiration and what God sends.At the moment, lovely music helps me out.A car drove by, and the car radio was playing music, and I just heard a bar or two of Beethoven, the last movement of the Violin Concerto.I knew immediately what to do."Yes, George, come," I said in a deep, husky voice, and whizzed out the razor.George said "Huh?", quickly pulled out the switchblade, and the blade snapped out of the handle.The two of us confronted each other.Dim said, "No, no, that's not right." Tried to undo the chain from his waist, but Peter put his hand on Dim and said, "Leave them alone. That's right." So George and my lord were silent Played the game of chasing cats, looking for a gap to take advantage of.In fact, both of them are very familiar with each other's style of play. George rushed with a shiny knife from time to time, but he didn't touch each other at all.At the same time, passers-by saw us fighting and ignored them, which may be a common sight on the streets.Now I'm counting "one, two, three," and I'm stabbing straight with the razor, not in the face, not in the eyes, but in George's slashing hand.Little brother, he let go.That's right, he slammed the switchblade onto the frozen pavement.The razor scratched his finger, and under the street lamp, he saw the blood dripping out and spreading red. "Come on," I started, for Peter advised Dim not to untie the chain, and Dim obeyed. "Come on, Ding Mu, you and I have a game, how about it?" Ding Mu said "Ah ah cough", like a crazy beast, he quickly threw the chain from his waist, and danced like a snake, which is very exciting Have to admire.My proper routine was to lower my body like a leapfrog to protect my face and eyes, which surprised poor Dim a little because he used to have a straight frontal sex.I admit that he whistled hard on my back and the pain was burning, but the pain called me to make a decisive quick impact and finish Dim.I thrust the razor straight up his left leg in leggings and cut two inches of fabric and pulled a little bit of blood, making Dim go crazy and while he was howling like a puppy, I tried Same thing with George, desperate--run, pierce, stab, and I felt the razor go deep enough in Dim's wrist that he dropped the snaking chain and wept like a child.Then he howled and wanted to drink the blood on his wrist, he couldn't finish it too much, beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep, the red blood is as beautiful as a fountain, but it didn't flow for a long time, I said: "Well, buddy, the truth is out now. Isn't it, Peter?" "I never said anything," Peter said. "I didn't say a word. Look, Dim's bleeding to death." "Impossible," I said. "A person can only die once. Dim died before he was born, and the red blood will stop soon." Without stabbing the aorta, Dim howled and moaned, I took out a clean handkerchief from my pocket, Bandaged on poor dying Dim's hand, as I said, it stopped the bleeding, so they know who's boss now, sheep, I thought. In the elegant room of the "Duke of New York", it didn't take long to appease the two wounded soldiers, a large glass of brandy (bought from their own leaves, I gave my father all the money), and a handkerchief dipped in water for a while. Just wipe it off.The old lady we were kind to last night was there again, shouting endlessly "thanks lads" and "God bless you boys" but we didn't repeat the kindness.Peter asked, "What's the trick, girls?" Stouts were ordered for them, and he seemed to have a lot of money in his pocket, so they shouted "God bless you all" and "We'll never stab you out" even louder. Yes, boys", "The best boys in the world, you are", I finally said to George: "Now we're back to where we were, right? Same as before, just forget about it, okay?" "All right," said George.But Dim was still looking dazed, and he even said, "I could have caught that big bastard, look, with a chain, but somebody was in the way," as if he wasn't fighting me but somebody else.I say: "Well, George Boy, what were you going to do just now?" "Well," said George, "for tonight. Don't think about it today, please." "You're a big, strong man," I said, "like all of us. We're not kids, are we, George Boy? What's your plan?" "I could have hooked his eyes with a chain just fine," Dim said.The old ladies are still chanting "thanks lad". "Here, here's this house," said George. "The one with two street lights outside the door. The name is silly." "What silly name?" "Crap like a mansion. There's an old woman who lives with a cat, and those expensive antiques." "For example?" "Gold, silver and jewels, it's from England Will." "Got it," I said. "I'm familiar with that." I knew what he was referring to—"Old Town," just behind Victoria's flats.Hey, really good leaders always know when to show generosity to their subordinates. "Very well, George," I said. "Good idea, and it should be taken. We're off right now." As we were going out, the old ladies said, "We won't say anything, lad. You've been here, boys." So I said, "Good girl, ten Come back in a minute to buy something to eat." I led my three buddies to find my doomed destination.