英文小故事

Bad Dreams

“I had another bad dream,” she told her fiancé. “It was about you again. You and your ex-girlfriend were kissing. I yelled at you to stop it. You looked right at me, and then you laughed at me! She laughed, too. Then you both went back to kissing. I tried not to watch, but when I covered my eyes, something pulled my hands away. I tried to leave, but my feet were glued to the ground. Finally, I woke up. Of course, it was very difficult to get back to sleep.

“I had to drive home from Las Vegas this morning. It’s a wonder I didn’t crash 50 times. Instead of seeing traffic in front of me, all I saw was you and her. I can’t take any more dreams like this. We’re going to have to break up. We can be friends, but just friends. That way, I won’t be jealous anymore, and I won’t have these bad dreams anymore.”

“Why didn’t you call me up and tell me about your dream?” he asked. “They say that the more you talk about bad dreams, the sooner you’ll stop having them.”

She disagreed. She thought that the only solution was to break up and be just friends. She loved him, but these dreams had become so frequent that she was actually afraid to go to sleep. She was losing weight and having stomachaches from the stress.

He didn’t know what to do. He wanted her to have pleasant dreams. He

wanted her to have a life without stress. He wanted her to be his wife. This was it, she repeated; if she had just one more bad dream, they were through. He squeezed her hand, but said nothing.

Let’s Speak English

It was the first day of class. Two of her new ESL classmates wanted to know where Tara was from. They were both from Iraq. Because Tara looked Iraqi, one of the women asked Tara, in English, if she was from Iraq. Tara replied, “No, I’m not.” Then the women took turns asking Tara if she was from Iran, or Syria, or Jordan. To each question, Tara responded with a simple no. Laughing, one woman said to the other, “She's not from anywhere!” The two went to their desks, talking to each other in Arabic.

The next day, the teacher divided the students into groups of four. The students in each group asked introductory questions of each other. A student in Tara’s group asked her, “Where are you from?” Tara answered that she was from Iraq. The two women who had questioned Tara the day before were sitting only a few feet away. Both of them heard Tara’s response.

“Aha!” they both exclaimed. “You ARE from Iraq!” Tara smiled and said yes. Then she apologized to both of them for lying the day before. She explained that she had not wanted to get into an Arabic conversation with them. It had been her experience that many ESL students continued to speak their native language in ESL class, and Tara had not come to ESL class to practice her Arabic. In her opinion, ESL

students should try to speak English only.

“I agree,” said Rose.

“You’re 100 percent right,” agreed Jennifer. “Rose and I must stop speaking Arabic to each other. Right, Rose?” Rose nodded, and then said something in Arabic. All three women laughed.

Over the next four months, Tara became friendly with both women, although she never spoke a word of Arabic to them during class or break.

Feds Threaten WWII Vet

They’re going to kick me out of my own home,” said Karl Berger, 86 years old. Karl is a widower with no living children. When Karl’s wife died a couple of years ago, he told the Social Security Administration to stop sending monthly checks to his wife. But the agency continued to send the checks. Karl called again; a clerk said not to worry. He told Karl to mail a followup letter that included his wife's date of death. But the checks continued to come. Karl needed the money, so he cashed his wife’s checks.

When SSA finally realized its mistake, it sent Karl a letter saying that he owed SSA $5,900 plus interest. Karl receives only $12,000 a year, which is slightly above poverty level. The only savings that he ever had--$5,000--was spent on his wife’s funeral. He fought on Iwo Jima, site of one of the most furious battles of World

War II. The battle left him deaf in one ear and almost blind in one eye.

His small house used to be in a good neighborhood. He takes the bus once a week to visit his wife's grave. The rest of his time is spent at home, where he carves wooden military figures that he donates to a local charity. The charity sells the carvings and uses the money to help feed the homeless.

SSA gave Karl six months to pay the debt in full. Otherwise, the SSA letter said, the agency would seize his home. Karl wrote back, asking if it would be okay to pay $30 a month. That was all he could afford.

“That’s insufficient,” said William Shatner, an SSA agent. “We know that he is a war veteran, but that doesn’t entitle him to free money. He knew that his wife was dead, yet he cashed her monthly checks. That is fraud, pure and simple.”

The crowd at the airport surged forward. The passengers had been waiting for a couple of hours for an airline employee to open the door leading to the plane outside. No one was in a good mood. An old man got trapped in the middle of the rush. He fell down without being able to break his fall. His head hit the concrete floor. Blood gushed from his forehead. He appeared to be unconscious. Everyone rushed past him, except for Dana. She called for help.

A minute later, a young airline employee showed up. Hardly looking at the old man, she told Dana to get aboard her plane. She said the old man would be okay, and walked away.

Dana screamed for help. An airport supervisor appeared. He told Dana to get on the plane. Dana said that she was not moving until an ambulance arrived. The supervisor said her plane would leave without her. Dana said that she didn’t care.

An ambulance and two paramedics finally arrived. The paramedics said that the man would be okay, but he would need stitches. They put him into the ambulance and drove off.

On her way out to the plane, which was still refueling, Dana saw the employee who had initially ignored the old man. The employee said, “You’re lucky the plane didn’t leave without you.”

“The plane?” Dana asked. “Who cares about the plane? How could you be so cold? That was an old man; he could have been your grandfather! How would you like it if everyone just stepped over your grandfather and went on their way?”

The 2008 Masters

Thirty years ago golf legend Gary Player, now 72, won his third and last Masters tournament in Augusta, Georgia. Yesterday, a second golfer from South Africa won the Masters. “Finally!” said Gary, proudly.

Sunday, April 13, was cool and very windy. Only nine of the 45 golfers managed to shoot par or better. Trevor Immelman, 28, struggled throughout the day. But he managed to maintain his lead, finally beating Tiger Woods by three

strokes. Tiger finished in second place for the third year in a row.

Trevor was PGA Rookie of the Year in 2006. But since 2006 he had won only one PGA tournament. He missed the first two months of the 2008 golf season after surgeons removed a benign tumor on his diaphragm. The tumor, coincidentally, was the size of a golf ball. Trevor played poorly in the tournaments he entered after recovering from the surgery.

In the Houston tournament just one week before the Masters, Trevor missed the cut. In professional golf tournaments, the cut occurs after the first 36 holes. Half the golfers—the ones with the worst scores—are dropped from the tournament. They earn no money.

In Britain, where bookies always post the odds for the Masters, Trevor was a long shot. But anyone who bet $10 on him before Thursday would have won $800 on Sunday. In two weeks, Trevor had gone from worst to first—from failing to win a dime in Texas to wearing the prized green jacket in Georgia (and $1.35 million). When asked what contributed most to his victory, Trevor said it wouldn’t have been possible without his parents’ loving support during his years as a junior golfer.

The Heart Attack (1)

He was watching TV. It was about 10:45 p.m. All of a sudden, he felt something in his chest. It was a fullness that he had never felt before. The feeling was dull and

painless. But it quickly became a very strong “chest ache.” His chest felt full, sort of like his belly did after Thanksgiving dinners. He could feel a little bit of sharpness in the area of his heart. Then he felt a tiny electric current go down his left arm and into his left hand. His hand felt numb.

He couldn’t believe it. I’m having a heart attack, he thought. No, it couldn’t be. He was perfectly healthy, or at least he was the last time he saw his doctor. When was that—one year, or two years, ago? Well, it didn’t matter. Your doctor could give you a clean bill of health on Monday and you could drop dead on Wednesday. But he had great genes—no one in his family had ever died of a heart attack. In fact, no one in his family had ever died of anything at his age.

He kept hoping the sensation would just disappear. But the feeling of fullness remained—yet without the slightest bit of pain.

He checked his front door. It was locked. That would be a problem if he called 911; would they break the door down, or do they have master keys to most buildings? His windows were open; they could just remove a screen. Should he call 911—no, the ambulance alone would be at least $500. The emergency room bill would be in the thousands. And what about the embarrassment if this was a false alarm? Should he call his brother, who would come over and—and what? He was getting confused. He turned down the TV. He didn’t want it blasting away at his dead body in the middle of the night.

The Heart Attack (2)

His computer was on. Maybe he should email someone. What would the email say—“I think I’m dying of a heart attack”? Wait a minute, he thought. He was about to die, and he was going to email someone who might not open his email for days?! He turned off the computer. Should he leave the dining table lamp on, or turn it off? He didn’t know whether to sit in the chair at the dining table, or go lie down in bed. Should he be sitting down or lying down when he died? Did it matter? He decided to sit in the chair and wait for his death.

He used to teach CPR, and he knew he had the symptoms of a heart attack. Victims usually describe a feeling of fullness. Students always used to ask what the “fullness” felt like, but he couldn't tell them. Now he knew exactly what it felt like.

So, this is how it’s going to happen, he thought, as he sat in the chair looking at the TV, waiting to die. He didn’t particularly like the thought of dying at this time, but he accepted it. He was 60 years old. You live, you die. Would he just quietly become unconscious? Or would his heart “explode,” causing him to yell out in pain?

And then the fullness in his chest simply disappeared. The numbness in his hand went away, too. He waited, just to be sure. He was okay! From start to finish, perhaps three minutes had passed. Thank You, he said quietly.

Tomorrow he should see a doctor and a lawyer, he thought. And next time, he shouldn’t worry about the cost of an ambulance ride or a hospital stay. He

couldn’t believe that when he thought his very life was on the line, he had cheaped out.