My ass1 jumps into my throat. I break the grip around my waist and spin toward the entrance, legs coiled like springs. Shoppers stop and stare.
'Happy Birthday!' It's fucken Taylor.
I spin a full circle, looking for the heavies who must be here to get me. But it's only Taylor. The clerk at the wire agent's counter smiles as she wraps an arm around my waist, and leads me shaking from the store.
'You didn't wait for the wire details, like the password, dummy,' she says.
'Uh-huh, so you hopped2 a fucken plane.'
'Sorry.'
'Well I couldn't leave you stranded4. Anyway, I'm bummed5 back home, and this is my vacation money - I hope you don't mind sharing. Here's three hundred, and we'll work the math out later …'
'I'll try to cope. How'd you know it's my birthday?'
'Hell-o? The whole world knows it's your birthday.'
The reality of what's happening starts to tingle6 in my brain. Taylor's here. I found a beach-house, and Taylor's here, with money. One thing to be proud of: I don't respond to the flood of joy-hormones, the one that makes you want to sniff7 flowers, or say I love you. I contain myself like a man.
'Wait'll you see where we're staying,' says Taylor, dragging me along the street. 'If they'll let you in - you look like an Indian.'
'You got a hotel?'
'Twin room, so you better behave - serial9 killer you.'
I become heavier for her to pull. 'Wait up - I found somewhere to stay you won't believe - on a beach, with jungle …'
'Eew! With, like, spiders and bugs10? Eew!'
'You never saw Against All Odds11?
'I already paid for the room, Vern, like, God.'
Whatever. As we walk, I remember I have to keep enough trouble around me to not give a shit how I act with her. You can only really be yourself when you have nothing left to lose, see? That's a learning I made. It may sound dumb, but it ain't easy when your dreams roll up. Take note, you can feel jerksville lurking12 in back. And as we know, just by thinking it, you suffer it worse. The learning: potential assholeness when a dream comes true is relative to the amount of time you spent working up the dream. A=DT2. It means I could even fucken puke.
She's wearing white shorts, I can't tell yet if there's a visible panty-line because they're kind of crinkled. Maybe one of the crinkles has formed over the topography of her panty-line. She also has a peach-colored T-shirt with a little Scorpio logo on it, and a stiff kind of jacket that she wears over the top. Her long brown limbs are perfectly13 attached to her body. I kind of frown at the jacket, though. She sees me and smiles.
'The plane was like a refrigerator.'
It's almost dark when we reach her hotel, one of the bigger ones. She pulls me into the lobby, where all these folk start looking at us. My shoulders hunch14. Everything suddenly looks alien, like some kind of store display, with me the only one moving. Except I ain't even moving, not at all. I just become silent.
Taylor collects her key, then her voice goes into overdrive, or underdrive, more like it. 'C'mon upstairs - you'll like it - c'mon.'
I look at her perfect nose and skin and hair. She smiles a crooked15 little smile, a horn smile, and takes my hand. Actually, she takes my fingers first, just the ends of them, and caresses16 them all the way up to my palm. I get electric fucken shocks to my boy. We climb into an elevator car and ride up to her room. Nice room she has, with a view over the whole bay. Little bottles of shampoo glisten17 under ultra-white lights in the bathroom.
'Welcome home,' she says. She pulls some tequila miniatures out of the mini-bar, while I just stand here like a spare prick18, then she curls up on the bed closest to the window. Somewhere in the composition of the air-conditioning is a licked-skin smell that brings a plague of fruity tangs to mind, damp edges of elastic19 crusted by sand and sea; salt lips pouting21 musk22 and vinegar. I scatter23 them, and move to the bed. Her sunny-smelling hair makes it seem like a regular day on vacation; fluffy24, normal and free - I guess like your sixteenth birthday should feel. But my ole lady will be home, thinking it's my birthday, and trying to shut things out of her mind. She probably bought my cake while I was still there, just to start looking forward to it. I picture a lonely cake on the table, with my mom sobbing25 over it. 'Lord, you'll make it soggy!' Pam would say. Even the truth of things, like that she'd probably be at the Barn with Pam, even that makes me sad. Taylor must pick up some of this backwash, because she throws a tequila at me.
'Snap out of it.'
I fumble26 the catch. 'Tay - you're here to see I ain't committing any murders. You're a witness - right?'
'Whoa, back up. I don't want to even, like - you know? I'm just here for whatever.'
'But if a court, I mean if …'
'You ain't quitting, are ya, killer? She pats the bedclothes by her thigh27. Come to Tay-Tay, you bad boy.'
Taylor raises her bottle, and we slug our tequilas down. I lie back on the bed like I'm wearing guns. She crawls half off the bed to grab some beers, and as she does it, her ass strains into the air. Panty-line. Bikinis. I'm fucken slain28. In my dreams we're always alone, stuck tight together, somewhere secluded29 and safe, but never anywhere fancy like furnished rooms. Always just in a gap in some bushes, or in a field, where she absorbs me like an ameba, all kiss-smell, and thighs30, and lips blow-drying the sweat on my skin. Part of the dream includes a kind of yearning31 to be in a room, all locked up with her, but I never am. Until now.
After four drinks, I'm laid back on one elbow feeling like it's my birthday. Drinks are wonderful that way. Taylor kicks off her leather sandals, one of them flies behind the TV. She runs a finger around the lip of her bottle, and studies me through vixen eyes.
'Vernon, tell me all those things you did.' Her voice is like a little girl's.
What did I say about trouble? She rolls closer until there's an inch of breath between us, alcohol haze32 with a far-away hint of cheese. We don't touch at all, but hang suspended, sucking chemical data like trembling dogs. Then comes a shock from the tip of her nose, wire touching33 wire. We melt into each other's mouths, my hand finds the round of her ass, surfs it, a finger charts an edge of panty - doesn't pick, or lift - just teases and glides34, moving higher, feeling the climate change around her rudest rebellion, all for Vern.
'Violent, nasty boy,' she says. 'Tell me you killed for Tayla.'
Her whisper becomes a thread in the lace, fibrous and baking with desperate heat. She squirms out of her shorts, kicking them onto the floor by the mini-bar. Panties - The Final Frontier. I lower my face as the creases35 on her mound36 disappear, taut37 glory unfurling, pressing into my touch, forcing my hand flat to squeeze nectar through the silk, lagoons38 that trickle39 over the elastic and run down her thigh.
'Death-bug - God, murder - uuugh, God . . .'
She tries to close back her legs, wriggles40 hard, but she's lost, I'm on fire, committed even more now she's shy of her musky damp. I pull aside her weeping panty to face a delta41 writhing42 with meats, glistening43 with sweat carrying spicy44 coded silts45 from her ass; olives, cinnamon dust and chili46 blood. She gives up, beaten, without a secret left in the animal world. Her knees bend up and she takes in my tongue, my finger, and my face, she cries and bucks47, horny ridges48, ruffles49, and grits50 suck me up, suck me home to the stinking51 wet truth behind panties, money, justice, and slime, burning trails through my brain like acid through butter. Pink Fucken Speed.
'Ugh, fuck! Tell me what you did to those people, tell me you loved it.'
I don't make a sound.
'Tell me! Tell me you killed!'
She starts to tighten52 her legs, draw away, and I whisper until she relaxes, and pulls me back to her vee. I've heard about these kinds of girls.
'Did you, Vern, did you do all that for me - for us … ?'
I feel a fatal oscillation on the head of my man, press him into the bedclothes, rub the stitching across his veins53. 'Yeah,' I moan. 'I did it for you.' I keep whispering, but a new reality seeps54 into me, heavy like the beginnings of an infection. Suddenly her pout20 turns to rubber, her breeze to raw shrimp55 and metal-butter. Something ain't right. She scoots to the edge of the bed. Her cleft56 sneers57 through the silk of her panties as she bends over one last time. I know I've had the last of Taylor Figueroa. My world dissolves under my belly58 with a jet like stung snakes squirted out through their own eye-holes. Then quiet. Just a slow ocean moving slowly, and spit-curry after-poon drying cold on my face. Taylor pulls up her shorts, ties her sandals, flicks59 her hair in the mirror.
'Okay!' she says into the breast of her jacket.
The door opens and four men walk in. I shield my eyes from the glaring camera lights. 'Vernon Gregory Little?' asks one. Like - duh.
I could handle everybody in the lobby staring at me, if only one of them was Taylor. She doesn't stare, or even look. She crouches60 next to a smiling technician, and listens to an earpiece connected to wires in her jacket.
Then she giggles61 into a microphone. 'It's so exciting. You really think I can anchor the show? Like, God, Lalito …'
I'm led away from her crouching62 ass, an ass barely dry with my spit and my dreams. Her careless laugh follows me from the lobby. People around the hotel entrance fall silent when I come through in hand and leg cuffs63. You can actually hear indoor palms rustling64 in the air-conditioning, that's how quiet things get. Quiet and icy-cold, I don't have to tell you. A plane is waiting at the airport. Right away you know some money got invested in the story. Like, it'd be hard to tell some anchorman it was all just a big mistake. Anchormen across the land would drop mountainous loads if you tried to tell them that. I struggle to work up some cream pie. But I can't, can I fuck. Instead I choke on aviation perfume, and the 'Goodbye' sound of jets whining65, like when Nana used to go up north. Across the way, you can see stressed passengers shuffling66 to immigration without a thought in their heads except the shine on their mall-brand luggage. Me, I'm tied in a metal tube with two marshals who choose conversations according to how well they contrast with the fucken shit I'm in. Talk about their car, a steak dinner, a ball game. One of them farts.
I just sit and watch a flashbulb on the tip of the wing light up the dark outside. After a couple of hours of flashes, which is a lot, we descend67 through puffy tumors that hang over Houston Intercontinental airport. When the plane turns to land you get a view of eight thousand patrol cars on the ground, lights flashing off recently wet concrete, and probably sirens and game-show buzzers68 running as well. All for little Vernon, Vernon Little. After landing, the plane turns toward some bleachers set up around an empty section by the airport perimeter70. We slow and park sideways to the stands, and I'm drenched71 through the window by flashlight from crowds of media. You physically72 feel the jackrab-bit pulse that says, 'There he is!' It's Tuesday, exactly three weeks since hell's tumble-dryer went to work on our lives. Although it's four in the morning, you just know every household in the land is tuned73 in. 'There he fucken is!'
The marshals handle me down the steps of the plane, and parade me in front of the bleachers. Behind the bleachers is a fence, and behind the fence you can sense hordes74 of angry people, the type that show up wherever angry people are needed. I'm lifted into the back of a white truck, where some men in lab coats and helmets are waiting. They harness me into a chair, and we get escorted into town by half the world's police cars. All the world's helicopters ride overhead, beaming lights down like a Hollywood premiere, the fucken Slime Oscars, boy. One learning I can give you from here: patrol cars don't smash up everywhere. Not at all. Nor do you get any simple ideas about how to distract the cops while you make a break for it, and leave them smashing into each other, and driving off bridges and shit. What's more, as soon as you're in a patrol car, you're immediately visited by the certainty that it won't happen. They drive fucken straight, take note.
Everybody has their fucken fun tonight, showing some future impartial75 jury how innocent I must be. Then I get banged back up to hell. Not back home, but down here, in Harris County, where all the big stuff happens.
I close my eyes in the cell, and do a re-cut of my life. In my cut of the thing, I ain't even in shit at all. Instead, I'm the kid out there who hears about somebody else's trouble, maybe some other kid took his dad's assault rifle to class and blew away half his buddies76, Lord knows it fucken happens. Maybe I'd be the kid just hearing about it. Hearing about some poor fuck, probably the quiet one, the wordsmith, the one with thoughts and shit, at the back of the class. Until the gun came to school. I'd be the guy just hearing about it, with the tickly kind of luxury of deciding whether to be sympathetic or devastated77, or not even pay attention at all, the way people do when shit happens that doesn't involve them. That's the kind of day I re-shoot in my head. Still full of different melted things, and dogs and all, but with me the outsider, up the street getting ice-cream, ignoring my carefree years, the way we do, and just getting bored and ornery.
I'm trying to sleep when the other cons78 on my row are waking up. One of them hears me sigh, and tosses some words through his door. 'Little? You a fuckin star!'
'Yeah, right,' I say. 'Tell the prosecution79.'
'Hell, youse'll get the bestest fuckin attorneys, hear what I'm sayin?'
'My attorney can't even speak fucken English.'
'Nah,' says the con8, 'they dissed his ass, he history. I saw on TV he said he still workin on it, but that's bullshit, he ain't even hired no more. You get big guns now, hear what I'm sayin?'
The guy eventually quiets up, and I snatch an hour of shitty sleep. Then a guard comes to maneuver80 me to a phone at the end of the row. He marches me proudly past all the other cells, kind of parades in front of them, and everybody jams up to their doors to watch me pass.
'Yo, Burn! Burnem Little, yo!'
I get sat by the phone. The guard fits himself an earpiece, then dials home for me. The number's disconnected. I get him to dial Pam's.
'Uh-huh?' she answers through a mouthful of food.
'Pam, it's Vern.'
'Vern? Oh my Lord, where are you?'
'Houston.'
'Hell, that's right - we saw it on TV. Are they feeding you?'
The guard leans over and whispers, 'Egg and chorizo, half an hour.'
'Uh - egg and chorizo, we're having.'
'What, just that? Just chorizo and egg?'
The guard frowns. He makes the motions of a full tray of trimmings.
'And a whole bunch of stuff,' I say.
The guard shoots me a thumbs-up. Mom is already tussling for the phone, you can hear her in the background. She finally wins.
'Vernon?'
'Hi, Ma.'
'Well are you okay?'
'I guess so. Are you okay?'
'Well Lally dumped Leona, so that's one thing, not that we ever thought he wouldn't. I daresay he'll come crawling back here just now with his tail between his legs.' She gives an ironic81 kind of grunt82.
'Ma, gimme a break.'
'Well you just wouldn't understand, he needs a strong woman around, with all that new responsibility - specially83 now he edged Vaine out of the picture …'
'Responsi-bility?'
'Well you must've heard, he bought the rights to your trial and everything. The company's in negotiations84 to buy the correctional facility at Huntsville too, and he's just stretched to the limit, without someone who really understands him, who really cares.' She listens to my stony85 quiet for a moment, then tries to pump some cream pie. 'So - did you have a nice birthday?'
'Not really.'
'Well I left the cake this year, I didn't know if you'd be in town. Anyway, if you showed up I could've grabbed one at Harris's, their opening hours are extended till ten every night now, although Marjorie isn't too comfortable with the new arrangement, not yet anyway. These things can take time, I guess.'
I'm still deciding if it's a bad or a good thing, this syndrome86 of loved-ones not talking about obvious shit. In a way it's kind of embarrassing, with this really obvious big maggot in my life, oozing87 and stinking in front of everybody. Nobody talks about it, though. I guess it speaks for itself.
A pretty good breakfast turns up after I finish the call, with toast, grits, and hash browns on the side of my egg and chorizo. Then my new attorney arrives, appointed by the State. They cast Brian Dennehy as my attorney, no fucken kidding, all burly and wise. Ole Ricochet Rabbit really did get fired, I guess. Another underdog replaced by overdogs. This Brian gives me some real hope, though, you know he always wins his cases. I'm damn hopeful, and I just know the jury will love him, they'll be wishing he was their dad, all crusty and benign88. I have a long talk with ole Brian, and tell him the way things are stacked.
'You're saying you're innocent?' he asks. 'You weren't even there at all?'
'Well, I mean I was there at, like, the school, and I guess my body crossed the same ground as where Barry Gurie fell, but …'
He frowns and holds up a hand. 'Your testimony89 may not inspire a jury. You with me?'
'Uh - sure.'
'It's an important defense,' he says from the door. 'Let's not push our luck. It's important for you, and important for me.'
'Glad to hear you say it.'
'Oh sure,' he nods. 'Capital trials are the cutting edge of our justice system.'
'So, Mr Little, you'll be the first to trial the new system - excuse the pun.' The man from the court chuckles90, and looks away. Whenever he smiles he looks away. And he smiles plenty, sitting here all cozy91 on the bunk92 in my cell.
'Before you decide, you should know there's no pressure whatsoever93 to press the buzzer69, which will be prominently mounted in your, um - security enclosure. A camera will be trained on it at all times, to guard against accidents. But, if at any moment during the proceedings94 you should feel inclined to change your plea, or to in any way revoke95 the information given so far, the buzzer will give you recourse to instant and positive action, as well as providing a valuable visual aid in the interpretation96 of justice for viewers across the globe …'
'Is there a buzzer for being innocent?'
'Vernon, you are innocent. Until proven guilty - remember?' The man rolls my way and smiles into my face like I'm a very small child. 'I assure you every precaution has been taken in the system's design. Both the button and the lights it activates97 are green, thereby98 avoiding the more stressful implications of the color red. Also, although we jokingly call it a buzzer, the sound it makes is more of a chime …'
收听单词发音 |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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bummed
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| 失望的，沮丧的 | |
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tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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serial
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| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
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bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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glisten
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| vi.（光洁或湿润表面等）闪闪发光，闪闪发亮 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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pout
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| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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musk
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| n.麝香, 能发出麝香的各种各样的植物，香猫 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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creases
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹 | |
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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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lagoons
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| n.污水池( lagoon的名词复数 )；潟湖；（大湖或江河附近的）小而浅的淡水湖；温泉形成的池塘 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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wriggles
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| n.蠕动，扭动( wriggle的名词复数 )v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的第三人称单数 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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delta
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| n.（流的）角洲 | |
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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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silts
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| v.（河流等）为淤泥淤塞( silt的第三人称单数 )；（使）淤塞 | |
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chili
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| n.辣椒 | |
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47
bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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48
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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49
ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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50
grits
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| n.粗磨粉；粗面粉；粗燕麦粉；粗玉米粉；细石子，砂粒等( grit的名词复数 )；勇气和毅力v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的第三人称单数 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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51
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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52
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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53
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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54
seeps
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| n.（液体）渗( seep的名词复数 )；渗透；渗出；漏出v.（液体）渗( seep的第三人称单数 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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55
shrimp
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| n.虾，小虾；矮小的人 | |
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56
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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57
sneers
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| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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58
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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59
flicks
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的第三人称单数 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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60
crouches
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| n.蹲着的姿势( crouch的名词复数 )v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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61
giggles
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| n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 )；傻笑；玩笑；the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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62
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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63
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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64
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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67
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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68
buzzers
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| n.门铃( buzzer的名词复数 )；蜂音器（的声音）；发嗡嗡声的东西或人；汽笛 | |
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69
buzzer
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| n.蜂鸣器；汽笛 | |
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70
perimeter
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| n.周边，周长，周界 | |
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71
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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72
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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73
tuned
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| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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74
hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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76
buddies
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| n.密友( buddy的名词复数 )；同伴；弟兄；（用于称呼男子，常带怒气）家伙v.（如密友、战友、伙伴、弟兄般）交往( buddy的第三人称单数 )；做朋友；亲近（…）；伴护艾滋病人 | |
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devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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78
cons
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| n.欺骗，骗局( con的名词复数 )v.诈骗，哄骗( con的第三人称单数 ) | |
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79
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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80
maneuver
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| n.策略[pl.]演习；v.(巧妙)控制；用策略 | |
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81
ironic
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| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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82
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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83
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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84
negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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85
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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86
syndrome
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| n.综合病症；并存特性 | |
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87
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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88
benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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89
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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90
chuckles
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的名词复数 ) | |
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91
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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92
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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93
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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94
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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95
revoke
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| v.废除，取消，撤回 | |
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96
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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97
activates
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| 使活动，起动，触发( activate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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98
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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