南辕北辙拼音难度：三个辣椒
导言
童年时懵懂无知的我们，还不明白死亡的意义。也许我们因为一时冲动而造成一个生命在这世界上消失，我们会发现自己犯下的错误不可弥补，死亡的阴影和自责的痛苦也会伴随而至，甚至会持续一生。尽管我们会伤心难过，但我们会经历这些而成长。我们会学到人生最宝贵的一课：怜惜生命。
BB Gun
台湾成人小说
鸽子之死
儿童城堡简笔画By M. Stanley Bubien
梁碧滢 译
银色情人节
The day my father gave me a BB gun was my twelfth birthday, and I almost couldn’t help jumping up and down when I saw what it was.
With a smile, he put his hand on my shoulder and led me outside. He t up cans and showed me how to shoot—first loading the gun, pumping it a few times, aiming, and finally, firing.
It was strange how that bird landed on top of the middle can. Holding the gun, I glanced at Dad, my eyes filled with 1)mischievous questioning.
“No,” he 2)intoned. “I don’t ever want to e you killing anything. That’s not why I bought you this gun.” He frowned grimly, but when the bird flew away, he 3)squeezed my arm and nodded toward the cans.
I think he was afraid that I’d learn what real power felt like.
Whatever. It was okay with me becau I figured I’d find plenty of other targets.
“Hey, Mike!” I yelled to my friend upon making one of my greatest discoveries. “Check this out.” I aimed at the top of the telephone pole.
“What’re you doin’?” he asked.
I fired, and the BB 4)smacked the top of the pole, hitting that little 5)ceramic查字数 6)cylinder that the phone lines are 7)hooked to, and causing a loud “DING” to ring out.
“Cool!” Mike said.
I smiled like the king of the world—a smile that grew even wider when Mike couldn’t hit the same target. The neat thing was that no matter how many times you shot tho things they never broke. Then again, maybe that’s why it got boring.
A few months later, I found mylf walking down the street, gun in hand, arching for new targets. I stopped by a telephone pole, popping off a few shots with nothing better to do.
Suddenly, a bird 8)swooped down and landed on the wire. It was a pigeon, and it cooed and 9)shuffled its footing, completely 10)oblivious to my watchful eye.
Here I was, a bored kid, holding a BB gun, and a bird standing right there in front of me—and no one around to tell my dad. It was so perfect. I figured it was a sign from God.
I aimed straight at the pigeon, held my breath, and squeezed slowly upon the trigger. But I hesitated. I was about to kill a bird, a concept that made me feel 11)queasy at one moment, and excited the next.
The excited part won.
I fired. The bird dropped like a rock, one wing flopping behind as it fell. The bushes 12)obscured its impact, but I heard it 13)thump into the dirt.
Before lowering the gun, I realized what I’d done—I’d killed my first animal. I should’ve run to my friend Mike’s hou and dragged him back to e the dead pigeon. But instead I whispered, “Oh no,” and 园艺专业14)charged into the brush.
My stomach was tied in knots, and I prayed, “Oh God, plea don’t let it be dead.”
我们走在大路上观后感
The pigeon lay there with blood streaming from its beak, feathers large and small scattered about. I 15)poked it with the gun barrel but it remained still. Reluctantly, I reached out and rolled it over, but its head 16)drooped lifelessly to the side.
After burying it, I hurried home, 17)stashed my BB gun in the clot and went to hide in my room.
When my dad got home that evening, I forced mylf to go downstairs so he wouldn’t think anything was wrong, but, the instant he looked at me, I’d have sworn he knew. Yet he put an arm around me and said, “Hey son, how was your day?”
“Um, okay.” I told him.
“That’s all,” he frowned, “just okay?”
I could feel my face 18)tingling. “Yeah, just okay.” And, trying to make it at least halfway believable, I shrugged.
赖叽
He nodded, his hand still resting on my shoulder. “Well,” he said, “it’s almost dinner time. Let’s go t the table.”
I was dead silent as I laid the plates out. I felt as though every time I turned around, Dad was looking at me, but whenever I stole a glance in his direction, he emed simply to be paying attention to collecting forks and arranging glass.
After Dad poured me some milk, I barely uttered a “thank you” as he took his at. Watching him, I figured if I could just make it through dinner, I’d be okay.
Mom gave us each a potato and uncovered the main dish in the center of the table. It was chicken.
I almost 19)barfed on my plate.
“Son,” Dad began, “do you want to say 20)grace?”
I looked at my mom, then at my dad, and, just before bursting into tears, I pushed my cha
ir back and ran to my room.
