Ogni tanto mi diletto a scrivere qualche piccolo articolo in inglese, tenendolo da parte per quando... non so per quando, penso per quando deciderò che un paese in particolare è meglio degli altri per viverci stabilmente, e fonderò un giornale.
La mia piccola collana si chiama "Life in the fast lane" e tratta, più o meno banalmente, episodi più o meno reali e più o meno fantasiosi di vita real come di vita ingame, tutti ovviamente presi dal mio punto di vista un po' folle se vogliamo.
Vi faccio leggere quello di oggi, se foste interessati, potrei cedervi l'esclusiva sugli altri
l'inglese è il mio, piuttosto maccheronico, ma penso si faccia capire (accetto correzioni e perfezionamenti, ovviamente)
Life in the fast lane 2008/02
The alarm rings so strongly that i fall down from the sofa where I was sleeping on; I extend my arm to find and switch off that prehistoric clock, asking God why he managed to make it arrive from my great grandfather to me. I wake up; while trying to focus my sight on, I feel my head heavy, and a strange taste in my mouth. D'oh, yesterday night!! Last thing I remember, is Nessie carrying to me my 9th Manhattan cocktail.
I heard my buzzer vibrating, it has fallen down under the sofa, maybe while I was trying to find a more comfortable sleeping position. I take it.
“honololu now – no gain – no gold – just blood (hope not yours)”
The message quickly awake my mind; I must run to the airport, if I don’t want to lose my fly.
While getting off from the plane my eyes are blind because of the sun; it’s Honolulu here, the overcast weather I had on Austria is just a memory, faraway from here.
While walking inside the airport, some local girl are looking at me; they all have a pretty face, long legs, nice bodies, and one of them puts a coloured flower’s string on upon my head, and she help me wearing it. I smile, but after looking them for a moment I keep on walking to my destination.
Out of the airport there’s a lot of cars: even if it is a bit dangerous, there isn’t any way to go, cheaper than a stolen car: I like the red one, it is a Buick. Just a minute and I’m driving it, pleased to find my stealing abilities still unchanged; the owner made me a great favor, filling the tank before leaving his car there.
I drive for almost 35 miles out of the city; this car hasn’t a good music centre, but “outside chance” singed by The Turtles, is still one of the best songs ever, and hearing this and many other great songs, the time fly away and the road pass fast under my new car. I’m arrived.
Here I am at death’s door, another time. Some nurses are trying to help a wounded soldier (I can see he’s from spain), some other are running into an ambulance to carry an almost dead boy; he’s just 16, what the hell he came here to do?!
I take the position I was assigned to, and first of all I have to dismantle my bag; what I’m looking for is hidden, but under all I can find my best friend: an old Lee Enfield with heavy barrel and telescopic sight, properly modified for running times (I will teach about him another time).
Disinteresting of other soldiers falling down near to me, I cover myself inside a trench and I begin looking inside the optical group; I aim at the other side of the hill.
It’s incredible! I’m at Honolulu now, but I can shoot at people living in Germany. Processing all these strange thoughts to keep my brain employed while death comes to have her duty, I see a man inside my telescope; he's watching me, i'm watching him.
This is the beginning, this is the end.
