论文部分内容阅读
I cannot honestly say that there was ever a time that I went hungry when I lived in that orphanage in 1)Jacksonville, Florida. I mean, I wish there had been more to eat at times, and there were times when my stomach sure growled a lot at nighttime.
One day our second grade class at Spring Park School was released early because of a 2)fire drill. As I walked back to the orphanage, about a block away from the school, I saw a woman standing on her front lawn eating a sandwich. I stopped and stood there looking at her.
“Can I help you?” she asked me.
“Just looking at that sandwich,” I replied.
“Would you like a sandwich?” she asked me.
“Yes, Ma’am. I guess,” I said.
She walked back into her house and within a minute had come back out holding a sandwich in her hand.
“Here,” she said, handing me the sandwich.
I raised the sandwich to my mouth and I took a bite.
I could feel my eyes roll back into my head as I tasted the wonderful treat.
“This is very good. What is it?” I asked her.
“It is a meat sandwich,” she told me.
“We don’t get much meat at the Children’s Home Orphanage,” I told her.
“If you ever get hungry for meat you can come by here,” she told me, as she walked back into her house and closed the door.
I slowly walked back to the orphanage eating the sandwich and making sure that my mouth was clean so that no one would know that I had eaten a meat thing.
The next day after school I once again walked by her house to see if she was there. Sure enough she saw me and invited me in to eat another meat sandwich.
As I sat at her dining room table I noticed that she had a large black bird locked in a cage at the far end of the room.
“Is that a big, black eagle bird?” I asked her.
“No. That is a talking crow,” she told me.
“Birds can’t talk,” I told her, wrinkling up my forehead in amazement.
“Oh yes they can,” she advised me.
“How can birds talk like human beings?” I asked her.
“You just have to say the exact same things to them over, and over, and over every day and that is how they learn to talk,” she said.
Everyday for almost six months I would come by her house to eat a meat sandwich before returning to the orphanage. When I would knock on her door she would always say, “Just a moment. I am covering the bird cage.”
All the times that I went there I never did hear that bird ever speak a single word. When I asked her why the bird would never talk she told me that birds would not speak when their cage was covered with a cloth.
One day I came by her house and I knocked on her door, but no one answered. Slowly I opened the door and I called out to her. Again no one answered. I slowly walked into the kitchen and I saw a meat sandwich sitting on the table. Beside the sandwich was a note telling me that she could not be there and that I was to eat the sandwich and then lock her door when I left.
After I finished my sandwich I put my plate in the sink and started toward the front door. As I turned back around to see if I had cut off the kitchen light I saw the covered bird cage in the living room.
Slowly, I walked over to the cage and I peeked underneath the cloth.
Suddenly, the cloth fell from the cage and onto the floor. The large black bird started jumping up and down, its wings throwing bird seed in every direction.
My little heart was beating ninety miles an hour, inside my chest. All of a sudden the bird just stopped dead in its tracks and screamed, at the top of its voice, “There’s that darn kid again. There’s that darn kid again.”
I grabbed the cloth and threw it back over the bird cage as fast as I could and then I ran out the front door. When I got outside I looked all around real, real good. But I didn’t see no darn kid.
老实说，我在佛罗里达州杰克逊维尔市那家孤儿院期间，真没挨过饿。其实，有些时候，我倒也想过，要是有更多东西吃就好了，也有那么一些夜晚，我的肚子的确会咕咕叫得厉害。
有一天，因为要防火演习，我们这些源泉公园学校二年级的学生很早就放学了。在走回孤儿院的路上，大概离学校一个街区那么远的地方，我看见一位太太正站在她家前面的那块草地上吃三明治，我停下脚步，站在那里看着她。
“我能帮上什么忙吗？”她问我。
“我只是在看那块三明治，”我回答道。
“你要来一块吗？”她问我。
“好啊，太太。我很乐意。”我说道。
她走进屋里，一眨眼功夫又走出来了，手里拿着块三明治。
“拿着，”她边说边递给我那块三明治。
我把它举到嘴边，咬了一口。
尝着她请我吃的那美味的三明治，我感觉自己幸福得直翻白眼。
“这好好吃哦。里面有什么？”我问她。
“这是肉馅三明治，”她告诉我。
“我们儿童福利院里很少有肉吃，”我告诉她。
“你想吃肉的时候，可以到这里来，”她边对我说，边走回家，关上门。
我边吃着三明治，边慢慢走回孤儿院，同时得确保把嘴巴擦得干干净净，这样就没人知道我吃了一些有肉的东西。
第二天放学后，我又走到她房子那头，想看看她在不在。当然，她看见我了，还请我进屋再吃一块三明治。
当我坐在她家餐桌前，我注意到屋子另一头有个笼子，里面关着只黑色的大鸟。
“那是只大黑鹰吗？”我问她。
“不是。那是一只会说话的乌鸦，”她告诉我。
“鸟类不会说话啊。”我边对她说，边惊讶地皱起了前额。
“噢，不，它们会说话。”她告诉我。
“鸟怎么会像人一样说话呢？”我问她。
“你只要对它们说同一句话。每天不断地重复，那么它们就会跟着说了。”她说道。
几乎有半年的时间，每一天，在回孤儿院之前，我都会到她家吃一块肉馅三明治。每次我敲她家的门，她总会说：“等一会儿，我正在盖鸟笼。”
我在她家的那些时候，我从未真的听过那只鸟说任何一个字。我问她为什么那只鸟从不说话，她告诉我，如果鸟笼给布盖住，它们就不说话了。
有一天，我去到她家，敲她的门，但没人答应。我慢慢推开门，叫了她几声，还是没人答应。我慢慢走进厨房，看见桌上有一块肉馅三明治。旁边放着一张纸条，告诉我她那天不在家，让我吃了那块三明治，走时关好她家的门。
我吃完三明治后把碟子放到水池里，开始走向前门。当我转过头去确认是否关上了厨房灯时，我看见了客厅里的那个盖着布的鸟笼。
我慢慢走向那个鸟笼，朝布下面瞥了一眼。忽然，那块布从鸟笼上掉到了地上。那只大黑鸟开始跳上跳下的，它的翅膀扇得鸟食到处都是。我胸口那小心脏以每小时90英里的速度跳动着。忽然，那只鸟停下来一动不动，然后高声尖叫道：“又是那个讨人厌的小孩。又是那个讨人厌的小孩。”
我抓起那块布，用最快的速度把它扔向那个鸟笼，然后跑出前门。跑到外面后，我朝四周很仔细很仔细地看了一通，但始终没看见有什么讨人厌的小孩。
1) Jacksonville 杰克逊维尔，美国佛罗里达州东北部港市
2) fire drill 防火演习
One day our second grade class at Spring Park School was released early because of a 2)fire drill. As I walked back to the orphanage, about a block away from the school, I saw a woman standing on her front lawn eating a sandwich. I stopped and stood there looking at her.
“Can I help you?” she asked me.
“Just looking at that sandwich,” I replied.
“Would you like a sandwich?” she asked me.
“Yes, Ma’am. I guess,” I said.
She walked back into her house and within a minute had come back out holding a sandwich in her hand.
“Here,” she said, handing me the sandwich.
I raised the sandwich to my mouth and I took a bite.
I could feel my eyes roll back into my head as I tasted the wonderful treat.
“This is very good. What is it?” I asked her.
“It is a meat sandwich,” she told me.
“We don’t get much meat at the Children’s Home Orphanage,” I told her.
“If you ever get hungry for meat you can come by here,” she told me, as she walked back into her house and closed the door.
I slowly walked back to the orphanage eating the sandwich and making sure that my mouth was clean so that no one would know that I had eaten a meat thing.
The next day after school I once again walked by her house to see if she was there. Sure enough she saw me and invited me in to eat another meat sandwich.
As I sat at her dining room table I noticed that she had a large black bird locked in a cage at the far end of the room.
“Is that a big, black eagle bird?” I asked her.
“No. That is a talking crow,” she told me.
“Birds can’t talk,” I told her, wrinkling up my forehead in amazement.
“Oh yes they can,” she advised me.
“How can birds talk like human beings?” I asked her.
“You just have to say the exact same things to them over, and over, and over every day and that is how they learn to talk,” she said.
Everyday for almost six months I would come by her house to eat a meat sandwich before returning to the orphanage. When I would knock on her door she would always say, “Just a moment. I am covering the bird cage.”
All the times that I went there I never did hear that bird ever speak a single word. When I asked her why the bird would never talk she told me that birds would not speak when their cage was covered with a cloth.
One day I came by her house and I knocked on her door, but no one answered. Slowly I opened the door and I called out to her. Again no one answered. I slowly walked into the kitchen and I saw a meat sandwich sitting on the table. Beside the sandwich was a note telling me that she could not be there and that I was to eat the sandwich and then lock her door when I left.
After I finished my sandwich I put my plate in the sink and started toward the front door. As I turned back around to see if I had cut off the kitchen light I saw the covered bird cage in the living room.
Slowly, I walked over to the cage and I peeked underneath the cloth.
Suddenly, the cloth fell from the cage and onto the floor. The large black bird started jumping up and down, its wings throwing bird seed in every direction.
My little heart was beating ninety miles an hour, inside my chest. All of a sudden the bird just stopped dead in its tracks and screamed, at the top of its voice, “There’s that darn kid again. There’s that darn kid again.”
I grabbed the cloth and threw it back over the bird cage as fast as I could and then I ran out the front door. When I got outside I looked all around real, real good. But I didn’t see no darn kid.
老实说，我在佛罗里达州杰克逊维尔市那家孤儿院期间，真没挨过饿。其实，有些时候，我倒也想过，要是有更多东西吃就好了，也有那么一些夜晚，我的肚子的确会咕咕叫得厉害。
有一天，因为要防火演习，我们这些源泉公园学校二年级的学生很早就放学了。在走回孤儿院的路上，大概离学校一个街区那么远的地方，我看见一位太太正站在她家前面的那块草地上吃三明治，我停下脚步，站在那里看着她。
“我能帮上什么忙吗？”她问我。
“我只是在看那块三明治，”我回答道。
“你要来一块吗？”她问我。
“好啊，太太。我很乐意。”我说道。
她走进屋里，一眨眼功夫又走出来了，手里拿着块三明治。
“拿着，”她边说边递给我那块三明治。
我把它举到嘴边，咬了一口。
尝着她请我吃的那美味的三明治，我感觉自己幸福得直翻白眼。
“这好好吃哦。里面有什么？”我问她。
“这是肉馅三明治，”她告诉我。
“我们儿童福利院里很少有肉吃，”我告诉她。
“你想吃肉的时候，可以到这里来，”她边对我说，边走回家，关上门。
我边吃着三明治，边慢慢走回孤儿院，同时得确保把嘴巴擦得干干净净，这样就没人知道我吃了一些有肉的东西。
第二天放学后，我又走到她房子那头，想看看她在不在。当然，她看见我了，还请我进屋再吃一块三明治。
当我坐在她家餐桌前，我注意到屋子另一头有个笼子，里面关着只黑色的大鸟。
“那是只大黑鹰吗？”我问她。
“不是。那是一只会说话的乌鸦，”她告诉我。
“鸟类不会说话啊。”我边对她说，边惊讶地皱起了前额。
“噢，不，它们会说话。”她告诉我。
“鸟怎么会像人一样说话呢？”我问她。
“你只要对它们说同一句话。每天不断地重复，那么它们就会跟着说了。”她说道。
几乎有半年的时间，每一天，在回孤儿院之前，我都会到她家吃一块肉馅三明治。每次我敲她家的门，她总会说：“等一会儿，我正在盖鸟笼。”
我在她家的那些时候，我从未真的听过那只鸟说任何一个字。我问她为什么那只鸟从不说话，她告诉我，如果鸟笼给布盖住，它们就不说话了。
有一天，我去到她家，敲她的门，但没人答应。我慢慢推开门，叫了她几声，还是没人答应。我慢慢走进厨房，看见桌上有一块肉馅三明治。旁边放着一张纸条，告诉我她那天不在家，让我吃了那块三明治，走时关好她家的门。
我吃完三明治后把碟子放到水池里，开始走向前门。当我转过头去确认是否关上了厨房灯时，我看见了客厅里的那个盖着布的鸟笼。
我慢慢走向那个鸟笼，朝布下面瞥了一眼。忽然，那块布从鸟笼上掉到了地上。那只大黑鸟开始跳上跳下的，它的翅膀扇得鸟食到处都是。我胸口那小心脏以每小时90英里的速度跳动着。忽然，那只鸟停下来一动不动，然后高声尖叫道：“又是那个讨人厌的小孩。又是那个讨人厌的小孩。”
我抓起那块布，用最快的速度把它扔向那个鸟笼，然后跑出前门。跑到外面后，我朝四周很仔细很仔细地看了一通，但始终没看见有什么讨人厌的小孩。
1) Jacksonville 杰克逊维尔，美国佛罗里达州东北部港市
2) fire drill 防火演习