В автобусе молодой симпатичный китаец (вероятно, студент) громко и матерно ругается на соотечественников за ненадлежащее обращение с девушками. На английском, с хорошо поставленным произношением (я даже подумала, что чувак из Штатов, просто с китайскими корнями, пока не переспросила), с fuck и его производными через слово.
- Those fucking Chinese. They fucking come here to study, go to some fucking party, show you their fucking wallets and then they treat you like fucking dogs.
Ржу. Не менее громко. От обилия факов в сочетании со школярским правильным прононсом. Вежливо извиняюсь на английском за свою бурную реакцию.
- Sorry, you sound so funny...
Медвед дёргает меня за рукав с вопросом, на каком языке мы говорим, и просьбами перевести. Отвечаю, что говорим на английском, но переводить не буду, плохих слов многовато. На соседнем месте тётка породы "вечно недовольная пенсионерка" громко возмущается в мою сторону: тоже мне, образованная нашлась, серость же, матерятся же, хрен ли так громко ржать.
- Where are you from? - спрашиваю я собеседника.
- From China. You know, we have a great country, but those fucking Chinese, they are like fucking kids, or dogs. Or, you know, kids have emotions, dogs too, Chinese people don't.
- My daughter asks you what we are talking about.
- Huh, you have a girl... Tell her not to talk to Chinese!
Сразу вспомнился один, так скажем, близко знакомый музыкант из прошлой жизни, предостерегавший юную меня от связей с их музыкантской братией.
Занавес.
- Those fucking Chinese. They fucking come here to study, go to some fucking party, show you their fucking wallets and then they treat you like fucking dogs.
Ржу. Не менее громко. От обилия факов в сочетании со школярским правильным прононсом. Вежливо извиняюсь на английском за свою бурную реакцию.
- Sorry, you sound so funny...
Медвед дёргает меня за рукав с вопросом, на каком языке мы говорим, и просьбами перевести. Отвечаю, что говорим на английском, но переводить не буду, плохих слов многовато. На соседнем месте тётка породы "вечно недовольная пенсионерка" громко возмущается в мою сторону: тоже мне, образованная нашлась, серость же, матерятся же, хрен ли так громко ржать.
- Where are you from? - спрашиваю я собеседника.
- From China. You know, we have a great country, but those fucking Chinese, they are like fucking kids, or dogs. Or, you know, kids have emotions, dogs too, Chinese people don't.
- My daughter asks you what we are talking about.
- Huh, you have a girl... Tell her not to talk to Chinese!
Сразу вспомнился один, так скажем, близко знакомый музыкант из прошлой жизни, предостерегавший юную меня от связей с их музыкантской братией.
Занавес.
On the bus, a handsome young Chinese man (probably a student) swears loudly and abusively at his compatriots for mistreating girls. In English, with a well-defined pronunciation (I even thought that the dude was from the States, just with Chinese roots, until I asked again), with fuck and its derivatives through the word.
- Those fucking Chinese. They fucking come here to study, go to some fucking party, show you their fucking wallets and then they treat you like fucking dogs.
Rzhu. No less loud. From the abundance of faks in combination with the schoolboy correct pronouncing. I apologize politely in English for my violent reaction.
- Sorry, you sound so funny ...
Medved tugs at my sleeve asking what language we speak and requests to translate. I answer that we speak English, but I will not translate, there are too many bad words. In the next place, the aunt of the breed "eternally dissatisfied pensioner" loudly indignant in my direction: I also found myself educated, dullness, they swear, damn it so loudly laugh.
- Where are you from? - I ask the interlocutor.
- From China. You know, we have a great country, but those fucking Chinese, they are like fucking kids, or dogs. Or, you know, kids have emotions, dogs too, Chinese people don't.
- My daughter asks you what we are talking about.
- Huh, you have a girl ... Tell her not to talk to Chinese!
I immediately remembered one, so to speak, a close acquaintance of a musician from a past life, who warned the young me against ties with their musician brotherhood.
The curtain.
- Those fucking Chinese. They fucking come here to study, go to some fucking party, show you their fucking wallets and then they treat you like fucking dogs.
Rzhu. No less loud. From the abundance of faks in combination with the schoolboy correct pronouncing. I apologize politely in English for my violent reaction.
- Sorry, you sound so funny ...
Medved tugs at my sleeve asking what language we speak and requests to translate. I answer that we speak English, but I will not translate, there are too many bad words. In the next place, the aunt of the breed "eternally dissatisfied pensioner" loudly indignant in my direction: I also found myself educated, dullness, they swear, damn it so loudly laugh.
- Where are you from? - I ask the interlocutor.
- From China. You know, we have a great country, but those fucking Chinese, they are like fucking kids, or dogs. Or, you know, kids have emotions, dogs too, Chinese people don't.
- My daughter asks you what we are talking about.
- Huh, you have a girl ... Tell her not to talk to Chinese!
I immediately remembered one, so to speak, a close acquaintance of a musician from a past life, who warned the young me against ties with their musician brotherhood.
The curtain.
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Эту запись оставил(а) на своей стене Яна Крупина
