Confusion is a word we have invented for an order which is not understood. I like to dwell on this period when things were taking shape because the order, if it were understood, must have been dazzling. In the first place there was Hymie, Hymie the bull-frog, and there were also his wife's ovaries which had been rotting away for a considerable time. Hymie was completely wrapped up in his wife's rotting ovaries. It was the daily topic of conversation; it took precedence now over the cathartic1 pills and the coated tongue. Hymie dealt in "sexual proverbs", as he called them. Everything he said began from or led up to the ovaries. Despite everything he was still nicking it off with the wife - prolonged snake-life copulations in which he would smoke a cigarette or two before un-cunting. He would endeavour to explain to me how the pus from the rotting ovaries put her in heat. She had always been a good fuck, but now she was better than ever. Once the ovaries were ripped out there'd be no telling how she'd take it. She seemed to realize that too. Ergo, fuck away! Every night, after the dishes were cleared away, they'd strip down in their little bird-like apartment and lay together like a couple of snakes. He tried to describe it to me on a number of occasions - the ways she fucked. It was like an oyster2 inside, an oyster with soft teeth that nibbled3 away at him. Sometimes it felt as though he were right inside her womb, so soft and fluffy4 it was, and those soft teeth biting away at his pecker and making him delirious5. They used to lie scissors-fashion and look up at the ceiling. To keep from coming he would think about the office, about the little worries which plagued him and kept his bowels6 tied up in a knot. In between orgasms he would let his mind dwell on some one else, so that when she'd start working on him again he might imagine he was having a brand new fuck with a brand new cunt. He used to arrange it so that he could look out of the window while it was going on. He was getting so adept7 at it that he could undress a woman on the boulevard there under his window and transport her to the bed; not only that, but he could actually make her change places with his wife, all without un-cunting. Sometimes he'd fuck away like that for a couple of hours and never bother to shoot off. Why waste it! he would say.
Steve Romero, on the other hand, had a hell of a time holding it in. Steve was built like a bull and he scattered8 his seed freely. We used to compare notes sometimes sitting in the Chop Suey joint10 around the comer from the office. It was a strange atmosphere. Maybe it was because there was no wine. Maybe it was the funny little black mushrooms they served us. Anyway it wasn't difficult to get started on the subject. By the time Steve met us he would already have had his workout, a shower and a rubdown. He was dean inside and out. Almost a perfect specimen11 of a man. Not very bright, to be sure, but a good egg, a companion. Hymie, on the other hand, was like a toad12. He seemed to come to the table direct from the swamps where he had passed a mucky day. Filth14 rolled off his lips like honey. In fact, you couldn't call it filth, in his case, because there wasn't any other ingredient with which you might compare it. It was all one fluid, a slimy, sticky substance made entirely15 of sex. When he looked at his food he saw it as potential sperm16; if the weather were warm he would say it was good for the balls; if he took a trolley17 ride he knew in advance that the rhythmic18 movement of the trolley would stimulate19 his appetite, would give him a slow, "personal" hard-on, as he put it. Why "personal" I never found out, but that was his expression. He liked to go out with us because we were always reasonably sure of picking up something decent. Left to himself he didn't always fare so well. With us he got a change of meat - Gentile cunt, as he put it He liked Gentile cunt. Smelled sweeter, he said. Laughed easier too... Sometimes in the very midst of things. The one thing he couldn't tolerate was dark meat. It amazed and disgusted him to see me travelling around with Valeska. Once he asked me if she didn't smell kind of extra strong like. I told him I liked it that way - strong and smelly, with lots of gravy20 around it. He almost blushed at that. Amazing how delicate he could be about some things. Food, for example. Very finicky about his food. Perhaps a racial trait. Immaculate about his person, too. Couldn't stand the sight of a spot on his dean cuffs21. Constantly brushing himself off, constantly taking his pocket mirror out to see if there were any food between his teeth. If he found a crumb22 he would hide his face behind the napkin and extract it with his pearlhandled toothpick. The ovaries of course he couldn't see. Nor could he smell them either, because his wife too was an immaculate bitch. Douching herself all day long in preparation for the evening nuptials23. It was tragic24, the importance she gave to her ovaries.
Up until the day she was taken to the hospital she was a regular fucking block. The thought of never being able to fuck again frightened the wits out of her. Hymie of course told her it wouldn't make any difference to him one way or the other. Glued to her like a snake, a cigarette in his mouth, the girls passing below on the boulevard, it was hard for him to imagine a woman not being able to fuck any more. He was sure the operation would be successful. Successful!That's to say that she'd fuck even better than before. He used to tell her that, lying on his back looking up at the ceiling. "You know I'll always love you," he would say. "Move over just a little bit, will you ... there, like that... that's it. What was I saying? Oh yes... why sure, why should you worry about things like that? Of course I'll be true to you. Listen, pull away just a little bit... yeah, that's it... that's fine." He used to tell us about it in the Chop Suey joint. Steve would laugh like hell. Steve couldn't do a thing like that. He was too honest - especially with women. That's why he never had any luck. Little Curiey, for example -Steve hated Curiey - would always get what he wanted... He was a born liar25, a born deceiver. Hymie didn't like Curiey much either. He said he was dishonest, meaning of course dishonest in money matters. About such things Hymie was scrupulous26. What he disliked especially was the way Curiey talked about his aunt. It was bad enough, in Hymie's opinion, that he should be screwing the sister of his own mother, but to make her out to be nothing but a piece of stale cheese, that was too much for Hymie. One ought to have a bit of respect for a woman, provided she's not a whore. If she's a whore that's different. Whores are not women. Whores are whores. That was how Hymie looked at things.
The real reason for his dislike, however, was that whenever they went out together Curiey always got the best choice. And not only that, but it was usually with Hymie's money that Curiey managed it. Even the way Curiey asked for money irritated Hymie - it was like extortion, he said. He thought it was partly my fault, that I was too lenient27 with the kid. "He's got no moral character," Hymie would say. "And what about you, your moral character?" I would ask. "Oh me IShit, I'm too old to have any moral character. But Curley's only a kid." "You're jealous, that's what," Steve would say. "Me ?Me jealous ofhim?" And he'd try to smother28 the idea with a scornful little laugh. It made him wince29, a jab like that "Listen," he would say, turning to me, "did I ever act jealous towards you? Didn't I always turn a girl over to you if you asked me? What about that redhaired girl in S.U. office... yon remember ... the one with the big teats? Wasn't that a nice piece of ass13 to turn over to a friend? But I did it, didn't I? I did it because you said you liked big teats. But I wouldn't do it for Curiey. He's a little crook30. Let him do his own digging."
As a matter of fact, Curley was digging away very industriously31. He must have had five or six on the string at one time, from what I could gather. There was Valeska, for example - he had made himself pretty solid with her. She was so damned pleased to have some one fuck her without blushing that when it came to sharing him with her cousin and then with the midget she didn't put up the least objection. What she liked best was to get in the tub and let him fuck her under water. It was fine until the midget got wise to it. Then there was a nice rumpus which was finally ironed out on the parlour floor. To listen to Curiey talk he did everything but climb the chandeliers. And always plenty of pocket money to boot. Valeska was generous, but the cousin was a softy. If she came within a foot of a stiff prick32 she was like putty. An unbuttoned fly was enough to put her in a trance. It was almost shameful33 the things Curiey made her do. He took pleasure in degrading her. I could scarcely blame him for it, she was such a prim34, priggish bitch in her street clothes. You'd almost swear she didn't own a cunt, the way she carried herself in the street. Naturally, when he got her alone he made her pay for her high-falutin' ways. He went at it cold-bloodedly. "Pish 'it out!" he'd say opening his fly a little. "Fish it out with your tongue!" (He had it in for the whole bunch because, as he put it, they were sucking one another off behind his back.) Anyway, once she got the taste of it in her mouth you could do anything with her. Sometimes he'd stand her on her hands and push her around the room that way, like a wheelbarrow. Or else he'd do it dog fashion, and while she groaned35 and squirmed he'd nonchalantly light a cigarette and blow the smoke between her legs. Once he played her a dirty little trick doing it that way. He had worked her up to such a state that she was beside herself. Anyway, after he had almost polished the ass off her with his back-scuttling he pulled out for a second, as though to cool his cock off, and then very slowly and gently he shoved a big long carrot up her twat. "That, Miss Abercrombie," he said, "is a sort of Doppelganger to my regular cock," and with that he unhitches himself and yanks up his pants. Cousin Abercrombie was so bewildered by it all that she let a tremendous fart and out tumbled the carrot. At least, that's how Curley related it to me. He was an outrageous36 liar, to be sure, and there may not be a grain of truth in the yam, but there's no denying that he had a flair37 for such tricks. As for Miss Abercrombie and her high-tone Narragansett ways, well, with a cunt like that one can always imagine the worst. By comparison Hymie was a purist. Somehow Hymie and his fat circumcised dick were two different things. When he got a personal hard-on, as he said, he really meant that he was irresponsible. He meant that Nature was asserting itself - through his, Hymie Laubscher's fat, circumcised dick. It was the same with his wife's cunt. It was something she wore between her legs, like an ornament38. It was a part of Mrs. Laubscher but it wasn't Mrs. Laubscher personally, if you get what I mean.
Well, all this is simply by way of leading up to the general sexual confusion which prevailed at this time. It was like taking a flat in the Land of Fuck. The girl upstairs, for instance... she used to come down now and then, when the wife was giving a recital39, to look after the kid. She was so obviously a simpleton that I didn't give her any notice at first. But like all the others she had a cunt too, a sort of impersonal40 personal cunt which she was unconsciously conscious of. The oftener she came down the more conscious she got, in her unconscious way. One night, when she was in the bathroom, after she had been in there a suspiciously long while, she got me to thinking of things. I decided41 to take a peep through the key-hole and see for myself what was what. Lo and behold42, if she isn't standing43 in front of the mirror stroking and petting her little pussy44. Almost talking to it, she was. I was so excited I didn't know what to do first. I went back into the big room, turned out the lights, and lay there on the couch waiting for her to come out. As I lay there I could still see that bushy cunt others and the fingers strumming it like. I opened my fly to let my pecker twitch45 about in the cool of the dark, I tried to mesmerize46 her from the couch, or at least I tried letting my pecker mesmerize her. "Come here, you bitch," I kept saying to myself, "come here and spread that cunt over me." She must have caught the message immediately, for in a jiffy she had opened the door and was groping about in the dark to find the couch. I didn't say a word, I didn't make a move. I just kept my mind riveted47 on her cunt moving quietly in the dark like a crab48. Finally she was standing beside the couch. She didn't say a word either. She just stood there quietly and as I slid my hand up her legs she moved one foot a little to open her crotch a bit more. I don't think I ever put my hand into such a juicy crotch in all my life. It was like paste running down her legs, and if there had been any billboards49 handy I could have plastered up a dozen or more. After a few moments, just as naturally as a cow lowering its head to graze, she bent50 over and put it in her mouth. I had my whole four fingers inside her, whipping it up to a froth. Her mouth was stuffed full and the juice pouring down her legs. Not a word out of us, as I say. Just a couple of quiet maniacs51 working away in the dark like gravediggers. It was a fucking Paradise and I knew it, and I was ready and willing to fuck my brains away if necessary. She was probably the best fuck I ever had. She never once opened her trap - not diat night, nor the next night, nor any night. She'd steal down like diat in the dark, soon as she smelted52 me there alone, and plaster her cunt all over me. It was an enormous cunt, too, when I think back on it. A dark, subterranean53 labyrinth54 fitted up widi divans55 and cosy56 comers and rubber teedi and syringeas and soft nestles and eiderdown and mulberry leaves. I used to nose in like the solitary57 worm and bury myself in a little cranny where it was absolutely silent, and so soft and restful diat I lay like a dolphin on the oyster-banks. A slight twitch and I'd be in the Pullman reading a newspaper or else up an impasse58 where there were mossy round cobblestones and little wicker gates which opened and shut automatically. Sometimes it was like riding the shoot-the-shoots, a steep plunge59 and then a spray of tingling60 sea-crabs, the bulrushes swaying feverishly61 and the gills of tiny fishes lapping against me like harmonica stops. In the immense black grotto62 there was a silk-and-soap organ playing a predaceous black music. When she pitched herself high, when she turned the juice on full, it made a violaceous purple, a deep mulberry stain like twilight63, a ventiloqual twilight such as dwarfs64 and cretins enjoy when they menstruate. It made me think of cannibals chewing flowers, of Bantus running amok, of wild unicorns65 rutting in rhododendron beds. Everything was anonymous66 and unformulated, John Doe and his wife Emmy Doe: above us the gas tanks and below the marine67 life. Above the belt, as I say, she was batty. Yes, absolutely cuckoo, though still abroad and afloat. Perhaps that was what made her cunt so marvellously impersonal. It was one cunt out of a million, a regular Pearl of the Antilles, such as Dick Osborn discovered when reading Joseph Conrad. In the broad Pacific of sex she lay, a gleaming silver reef surrounded with human anemones68, human starfish, human madrepores. Only an Osborn could have discovered her, given the proper latitude69 and longitude70 of cunt. Meeting her in the daytime, watching her slowly going daft, it was like trapping a weasel when night came on. All I had to do was to lie down in the dark with my fly open and wait. She was like Ophelia suddenly resurrected among the Kaffirs. Not a word of any language could she remember, especially not English. She was a deaf-mute who had lost her memory, and with the loss of memory she had lost her frigidaire, her curling-irons, her tweezers71 and handbag. She was even more naked than a fish, except for the tuft of hair between her legs. And she was even slippier than a fish because after all a fish has scales and she had none. It was dubious72 at times whether I was in her or she in me. It was open warfare73, the new-fangled Pancrace, with each one biting his own ass. Love among the newts and the cut-out wide open. Love without gender74 and without lysol. Incubational love, such as the wolverines practise above the tree line. On the one side the Arctic Ocean, on the other the Gulf75 of Mexico. And though we never referred to it openly there was always with us King Kong, King Kong asleep in the wrecked76 hull77 of the Titanic78 among the phosphorescent bones of millionaires and lampreys. No logic79 could drive King Kong away. He was the giant truss that supports the soul's fleeting80 anguish81. He was the wedding cake with hairy legs and arms a mile long. He was the revolving82 screen on which the news passes away. He was the muzzle83 of the revolver that never went on, the leper armed with sawed-off gonococci.
It was here in the void of hernia that I did all my quiet thinking via the penis. There was first of all the binomial theorem, a phrase which had always puzzled me; I put it under the magnifying glass and studied it from X to Z, There was Logos, which somehow I had always identified with breath; I found that on the contrary it was a sort of obsessional84 stasis, a machine which went on grinding corn long after the granaries had been filled and the Jews driven out of Egypt. There was Bucephalus, more fascinating to me perhaps than any word in my whole vocabulary: I would trot85 it out whenever I was in a quandary86, and with it of course Alexander and his entire purple retinue87. What a horse! Sired in the Indian Ocean, the last of the line, and never once mated, except to the Queen of the Amazons during the Mesopotamian adventure. There was the Scotch88 Gambit! An amazing expression which had nothing to do with chess. It came to me always in the shape of a man on stilts89, page 2498 of Punk and Wagnall's Unabridged Dictionary. A gambit was a sort of leap in the dark with mechanical legs. A leap for no purpose - hence gambit!Clear as a bell and perfectly90 simple, once you grasped it. Then there was Andromeda, and the Gorgon91 Medusa, and Castor and Pollux of heavenly origin, mythological92 twins eternally fixed93 in the ephemeral stardust. There was lucubration, a word distinctly sexual and yet suggesting such cerebral94 connotations as to make me uneasy. Always "midnight lucubrations", the midnight being ominously95 significant. And then arras. Somebody some time or other had been stabbed "behind the arras". I saw an altar-cloth made of asbestos and in it was a grievous rent such as Caesar himself might have made. It was very quiet thinking, as I say, the kind that the men of the Old Stone Age must have indulged in. Things were neither absurd nor explicable. It was a jig-saw puzzle which, when you grew tired of, you could push away with two feet. Anything could be put aside with ease, even the Himalaya Mountains. It was just the opposite kind of thinking from Mahomet's. It led absolutely nowhere and was hence enjoyable. The grand edifice96 which you might construct throughout the course of a long fuck could be toppled over in the twinkling of an eye. It was the fuck that counted and not the construction work. It was like living in the Ark during the Flood, everything provided for down to a screw-driver. What need to commit murder, rape97 or incest when all that was demanded of you was to kill time? Rain, rain, rain, but inside the Ark everything dry and toasty, a pair of every kind and in the larder98 fine Westphalian hams, fresh eggs, olives, pickled onions, Worcestershire Sauce and other delicacies99. God had chosen me, Noah, to establish a new heaven and a new earth. He had given me a stout100 boat with all seams caulked101 and properly dried. He had given me also the knowledge to sail the stormy seas. Maybe when it stopped raining there would be other kinds of knowledge to acquire, but for the present a nautical102 knowledge sufficed. The rest was chess in the Cafe Royal, Second Avenue, except that I had to imagine a partner, a clever Jewish mind that would make the game last until the rains ceased. But, as I said before, I had no time to be bored: there were my old friends. Logos, Bucephalus, arras, lucubration and so on. Why play chess?
Locked up like that for days and nights on end I began to realize that thinking, when it is not masturbative, is lenitive, healing, pleasurable. The thinking that gets you nowhere takes you everywhere: all other thinking is done on tracks and no matter how long the stretch, in the end there is always the depot103 or the round-house. In the end there is always a red lantern which says STOP! But when the penis gets to thinking there is no stop and no let: it is a perpetual holiday, the bait fresh and the fish always nibbling104 at the line. Which reminds me of another cunt, Veronica something or other, who always got me thinking the wrong way. With Veronica it was always a tussle105 in the vestibule. On the dance floor you'd think she was going to make you a permanent present of her ovaries, but as soon as she hit the air she'd start thinking, thinking other hat, of her purse, of her aunt who was waiting up for her, of the letter she forgot to mail, of the job she was going to lose - all kinds of crazy, irrelevant106 thoughts which had nothing to do with the thing in hand. It was like she had suddenly switched her brain to her cunt - the most alert and canny107 cunt imaginable. It was almost a metaphysical cunt, so to speak. It was a cunt which thought out problems, and not only that, but a special kind of thinking it was, with a metronome going. For this species of displaced rhythmic lucubration a peculiar108 dim light was essential. It had to be just about dark enough for a bat and yet light enough to find a button if one happened to come undone109 and roll on the floor of the vestibule. You can see what I mean. A vague yet meticulous110 precision, a steely awareness111 that simulated absent-mindedness. And fluttery and fluky at the same time, so that you could never determine whether it was fish or fowl112. What is this I hold in my hand? Fine or super-fine?The answer was always duck soup. If you grabbed her by the boobies she would squawk like a parrot; if you got under her dress she would wriggle113 like an eel9: if you held her too tight she would bite like a ferret. She lingered and lingered and lingered. Why? What was she after? Would she give in after an hour or two? Not a chance in a million. She was like a pigeon trying to fly with its legs caught in a steel trap. She pretended she had no legs. But if you made a move to set her free she would threaten to moult on you.
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1
cathartic
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| adj.宣泄情绪的；n.泻剂 | |
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oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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nibbled
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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toad
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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sperm
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| n.精子，精液 | |
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trolley
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| n.手推车，台车；无轨电车；有轨电车 | |
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rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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stimulate
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| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
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gravy
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| n.肉汁；轻易得来的钱，外快 | |
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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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crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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nuptials
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| n.婚礼；婚礼( nuptial的名词复数 ) | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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liar
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scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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lenient
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| adj.宽大的，仁慈的 | |
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smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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wince
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| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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industriously
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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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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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flair
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| n.天赋，本领，才华；洞察力 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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40
impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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41
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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42
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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43
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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44
pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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45
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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46
mesmerize
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| vt.施催眠术；使入迷，迷住 | |
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47
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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48
crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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49
billboards
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| n.广告牌( billboard的名词复数 ) | |
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50
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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51
maniacs
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| n.疯子（maniac的复数形式） | |
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52
smelted
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| v.熔炼，提炼（矿石）( smelt的过去式和过去分词 )；合演( costar的过去式和过去分词 )；闻到；嗅出 | |
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53
subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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54
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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55
divans
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| n.（可作床用的）矮沙发( divan的名词复数 )；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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56
cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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57
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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58
impasse
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| n.僵局；死路 | |
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59
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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60
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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61
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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62
grotto
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| n.洞穴 | |
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63
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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dwarfs
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| n.侏儒，矮子（dwarf的复数形式）vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的第三人称单数形式） | |
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65
unicorns
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| n.（传说中身体似马的）独角兽( unicorn的名词复数 )；一角鲸；独角兽标记 | |
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66
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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67
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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anemones
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| n.银莲花( anemone的名词复数 )；海葵 | |
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69
latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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longitude
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| n.经线，经度 | |
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71
tweezers
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| n.镊子 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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gender
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| n.（生理上的）性，（名词、代词等的）性 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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77
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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78
titanic
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| adj.巨人的，庞大的，强大的 | |
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79
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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80
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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81
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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82
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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83
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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84
obsessional
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| adj.摆脱不了的 | |
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85
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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86
quandary
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| n.困惑，进迟两难之境 | |
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87
retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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88
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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89
stilts
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| n.（支撑建筑物高出地面或水面的）桩子，支柱( stilt的名词复数 )；高跷 | |
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90
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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91
gorgon
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| n.丑陋女人，蛇发女怪 | |
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92
mythological
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| adj.神话的 | |
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93
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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94
cerebral
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| adj.脑的，大脑的；有智力的，理智型的 | |
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95
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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96
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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97
rape
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| n.抢夺，掠夺，强奸；vt.掠夺，抢夺，强奸 | |
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98
larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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99
delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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101
caulked
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| v.堵（船的）缝( caulk的过去式和过去分词 )；泥…的缝；填塞；使不漏水 | |
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102
nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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103
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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104
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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105
tussle
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| n.&v.扭打，搏斗，争辩 | |
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106
irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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107
canny
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| adj.谨慎的，节俭的 | |
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108
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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109
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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110
meticulous
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| adj.极其仔细的，一丝不苟的 | |
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111
awareness
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| n.意识，觉悟，懂事，明智 | |
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112
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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113
wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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