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阿甘正传(英文版)18

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      We go to the tavern an Dan is drinkin some Ripple wine on account of they got no Red
     
      Dagger, but he say Ripple is better anyhow cause it got a nicer "bouquet."
     
     
     
      Bunch of other fellers is in there too, playin darts an drinkin an arm rasslin each other at a
     
      table. One big ole guy seem to be the bes arm rassler of the tavern, an ever once in a wile some
     
      feller would come up an try to beat him but couldn't. They be bettin on it too, five an ten dollars a
     
      whack.
     
     
     
      After a little bit, Dan whisper over to me, "Forrest, you think you could beat that big bozo
     
      over there at arm rasslin?" An I say I dunno, an Dan say, "Well, here's five bucks, cause I'm bettin
     
      you can."
     
     
     
      So I go up an say to the feller, "Would you mine if I set down an arm rassle with you?"
     
     
     
      He look up at me, smilin, an say, "Long as you got money, you is welcome to try."
     
     
     
      So I set down an we grapped each other's hans an somebody say, "Go!" an the rassle is on.
     
      Other feller be gruntin an strainin like a dog tryin to shit a peach seed, but in about ten secons I
     
      had smushed his arm down on the table an whipped him at arm rasslin. All the other fellers had
     
      come gatherin aroun the table an were goin "oooh" an "ahh" an I could hear ole Dan shoutin an
     
      cheerin.
     
     
     
      Well, the other feller ain't none too happy but he paid me five dollars an got up from the
     
      table.
     
     
     
      "My elbow slipped," he say, "but nex time you come back here I want to have a go at you
     
      again, hear?" I nodded an went back to the table Dan was at an give him the money.
     
     
     
      "Forrest," he say, "we may have foun a easy way to make ourselfs some bread." I axed Dan
     
      if I could have a quarter to git me a pickled egg from the jar on the counter, an he han me a dollar
     
      an say, "You git anything you want, Forrest. We is now got a way to earn a livelyhood."
     
     
     
      After work, Jenny come over to the tavern an take us to her place. She is livin in a little
     
      apartment not too far from the Temperer Tire Company an has got it all fixed up nice with things
     
      like stuffed animals an strings of colored beads hangin from the bedroom door. We went out to a
     
      grocery an bought some chicken an Jenny cooked supper for Dan an me an I tole her all that had
     
      happened since I seen her last.
     
     
     
      Mostly, she is curious about Major Fritch, but when I say she run off with a cannibal, Jenny
     
      seemed more relaxed bout it. She say life has not exactly been a bowl of cherries for her either
     
      durin the past few years.
     
     
     
      After she lef The Cracked Eggs, Jenny done gone to Chicago with this girl she met in the
     
      peace movement. They had demonstrated in the streets an got thowed in jail a bunch of times an
     
      Jenny say she is finally gettin tired of havin to appear in court an besides, she is concerned that
     
      she is developin a long police record.
     
     
     
      Anyhow, she is livin in this house with about fifteen people an she says they is not exactly
     
      her type of persons. Didn't wear no underwear or nothin, an nobody flushed the toilets. She an
     
      this guy decided to take an apartment together, cause he didn't like where they was livin neither,
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
      but that didn't work out.
     
     
     
      "You know, Forrest," she say, "I even tried to fall in love with him, but I jus couldn't because
     
      I was thinkin of you."
     
     
     
      She had wrote to her mama an axed her to get in touch with my mama to try an find out
     
      where I was bein kept, but her mama write her back sayin our house done burnt up an my mama
     
      is now livin in the po house, but by the time the letter get to Jenny, Mama done already run off
     
      with the protestant.
     
     
     
      Anyhow, Jenny said she didn't have no money an so she heard they is hirin people at the tire
     
      company an she come down to Indianapolis to get a job. Bout that time she seen on the television
     
      that I am bout to be launched into space, but they is no time for her to get down to Houston. She
     
      say she watched, "with horror," as my spaceship crashed, an she give me up for dead. Ever since,
     
      she jus been puttin in her time makin re-treads.
     
     
     
      I took her an hole her in my arms an we stayed like that for a wile. Dan rolled hissef into the
     
      bathroom, say he's got to take a pee. When he's in there, Jenny axe how he gonna do that, an don't
     
      he need hep? an I say, "No, I seen him do it before. He can manage."
     
     
     
      She shake her head an say, "This is where the Vietnam War have got us."
     
     
     
      There ain't much disputin that either. It is a sad an sorry spectacle when a no-legged man
     
      have got to pee in his hat an then dump it over into the toilet.
     
     
     
      The three of us settle into Jenny's little apartment after that. Jenny fixed up Dan a place in a
     
      corner of the livin room with a little mattress an she kep a jar on the bathroom floor so he
     
      wouldn't have to use his hat. Ever mornin she'd go off to the tire company an Dan an me would
     
      set aroun the house an talk an then go down to the little tavern near where Jenny worked to wait
     
      till she got off.
     
     
     
      First week we started doin that, the guy I beat arm rasslin wanted a chance to git back his
     
      five bucks an I gave it to him. He tried two or three times more an in the end lost bout twenty-five
     
      dollars an after that he didn't come back no more. But they was always some other feller wanted
     
      to try his luck an after a month or two they was guys comin from all over town an from other little
     
      towns too. Dan an me, we is pullin in bout a hundrit fifty or two hundrit dollars a week, which
     
      weren't bad, let me tell you. An the owner of the tavern, he is sayin he gonna hole a national
     
      contest, an git the tv there an everthing. But before that happen, another thing come along that
     
      changed my life for sure.
     
     
     
      One day a feller come into the tavern that was wearin a white suit an a Hiwaian shirt an a lot
     
      of gold jewelry aroun his neck. He set up at the bar wile I was finishin off some guy at arm rasslin
     
      an then he come an set down at our table.
     
     
     
      "Name's Mike," he say, "an I have heard bout you."
     
     
     
      Dan axed what has he heard, an Mike say, "That this feller here is the strongest man in the
     
      world."
     
     
     
      "What of it?" Dan says, an the feller say, "I think I got a idea how you can make a hell of a
     
      lot more money than this nickel an dime shit you're doin here."
     
     
     
      "How's that?" Dan say.
     
     
     
      "Rasslin," says Mike, "but not this piss-ant stuff— I mean the real thing. In a ring with
     
      hundrits of thousands of payin customers."
     
     
     
      "Rasslin who?" Dan axed.
     
     
     
      "Whoever," says Mike. "They is a circuit of professional rasslers— The Masked Marvel, The
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
      Incredible Hulk, Georgeous George, Filthy McSwine— you name em. The top guys make a
     
      hundrit, two hundrit thousand dollars a year. We's start your boy here off slow. Teach him some
     
      of the holds, show him the ropes. Why, I bet in no time he'd be a big star— make everybody a pile
     
      of money."
     
     
     
      Dan look at me, say, "What you think, Forrest?"
     
     
     
      "I dunno," I says. "I was kinda thinkin bout goin back home an startin a little srimp bidness."
     
     
     
      "Shrimp!" says Mike. "Why boy, you can make fifty times more money doing this than
     
      shrimpin! Don't have to do it all your life— just a few years, then you'll have something to fall
     
      back on, money in the bank, a nest egg."
     
     
     
      "Maybe I ought to axe Jenny," I say.
     
     
     
      "Look," Mike say, "I come here to offer you a chance of a lifetime. You don't want it, jus say
     
      so, an I'll be on my way."
     
     
     
      "No, no," Dan say. Then he turn to me. "Listen, Forrest, some of what this feller say make
     
      sense. I mean, how else you gonna earn enough money to start a srimp bidness?"
     
     
     
      "Tell you what," Mike say, "you can even take your buddy here with you. He can be your
     
      manager. Anytime you want to quit, you're free to do it. What do you say?"
     
     
     
      I thought bout it for a minute or so. Sounded pretty good, but usually they is some catch.
     
      Nevertheless, I open my big mouth an say the fatal word: "Yes."
     
     
     
      Well, that's how I become a professional rassler. Mike had his office in a gymnasium in
     
      downtown Indianapolis an ever day me an Dan would catch the bus down there so's I could get
     
      taught the proper way to rassle.
     
     
     
      In a nutshell, it was this: nobody is sposed to get hurt, but it sposed to look like they do.
     
     
     
      They be teachin me all sorts of things— half-nelsons, the airplane spin, the Boston crab, the
     
      pile driver, hammerlocks an all such as that. Also, they taught Dan how to yell an scream at the
     
      referee, so as to cause the greatest commotion.
     
     
     
      Jenny is not too keen on the rasslin bidness on account of she say I might git hurt, an when I
     
      say nobody gits hurt cause it's all put-on, she say, "Then what's the point of it?" It is a good
     
      question that I cannot rightly answer, but I am lookin foward to makin us some money anyhow.
     
     
     
      One day they is tryin to show me somethin called "the belly flop," where I is sposed to go
     
      flyin thru the air to lan on top of somebody but at the last minute he rolls away. But somehow, I
     
      keep screwin it up, an two or three times I lan right on the feller afore he gits a chance to move
     
      out the way. Finally Mike come up into the ring an say, "Jesus, Forrest— you some kind of idiot
     
      or somethin! You could hurt somebody that way, a big ole moose like you!"
     
     
     
      An I says, "Yep— I am a idiot," an Mike say, "What you mean?" an then Dan, he say for
     
      Mike to come over to him for a secont an he splain somethin to him, an Mike say, "Good God! Is
     
      you kiddin?" an Dan shake his head. Mike look at me an shrug his shoulders an say, "Well, I
     
      guess it takes all kinds."
     
     
     
      Anyway, bout a hour later Mike come runnin out of his office up to the ring where Dan an
     
      me is.
     
     
     
      "I've got it!" he shoutin.
     
     
     
      "Got what?" Dan axed.
     
     
     
      "His name! We have to give Forrest a name to rassle under. It just came to me what it is."
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
      "What might that be?" Dan say.
     
     
     
      "The Dunce!" says Mike. "We will dress him up in diapers an put a big ole dunce cap on his
     
      head. The crowd will love it!"
     
     
     
      Dan think for a minute. "I dunno," he says, "I don't much like it. Sounds like you are tryin to
     
      make a fool out of him."
     
     
     
      "It's only for the crowd," Mike say. "He has to have a gimmick of some sort. All the big stars
     
      do it. What could be better than The Dunce!"
     
     
     
      "How about callin him The Spaceman?" say Dan. "That would be appropriate. He could
     
      wear a plastic helmet and some antennas."
     
     
     
      "They already got somebody called The Spaceman," Mike says.
     
     
     
      "I still don't like it," Dan say. He looks at me, an axed, "What you think, Forrest?"
     
     
     
      "I don't really give a shit," I says.
     
     
     
      Well, that was the way it was. After all them months of trainin I am finally bout to make my
     
      debut as a rassler. Mike come in to the gym the day before the big match an he has a box with my
     
      diaper an a big ole black dunce cap. He say to be back at the gym at noon tomorrow so he can
     
      drive us to my first rasslin match which is in Muncie.
     
     
     
      That night when Jenny get home I gone into the bathroom an put on the diaper an the dunce
     
      cap an come out into the livin room. Dan is settin on his little platform cart watchin tv an Jenny is
     
      readin a book. Both of them look up when I walk thru the door.
     
     
     
      "Forrest, what on earth?" Jenny says.
     
     
     
      "It's his costume," say Dan.
     
     
     
      "It makes you look like a fool," she say.
     
     
     
      "Look at it this way," Dan says. "It's like he is in a play or somethin."
     
     
     
      "He still looks like a fool," says Jenny. "I can't believe it! You'd let them dress him up like
     
      that an go out in public?"
     
     
     
      "It's only to make money," Dan say. "They got one guy called 'The Vegetable' that wears
     
      turnip greens for a jockstrap an puts a hollowed-out watermelon over his head with little eyes cut
     
      out for him to see thru. Another guy calls himself 'The Fairy,' an has wings on his back an carries
     
      a wand. Sumbitch probly weighs three hundred pounds— you oughta see him."
     
     
     
      "I don't care what the rest of them do," Jenny says, "I don't like this one bit. Forrest, you go
     
      an get out of that outfit."
     
     
     
      I gone on back to the bathroom an took off the costume. Maybe Jenny is right, I'm thinkin—
     
      but a feller's got to make a livin. Anyhow, it ain't near as bad as the guy I got to rassle tomorrow
     
      night in Muncie. He calls hissef "The Turd," an dresses in a big ole body stockin that is painted to
     
      look like a piece of shit. Lord knows what he gonna smell like.
     
     
     
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