8 Ch8-Why Dead People Are Lucky

Chapter 8 Why Dead People Are Lucky At lunch I was sitting in the vomitorium with Ryan and Michael and Neil the nude kid. The school lunch was spaghetti and meatballs, which was disgusting and probably poisoned. Ms. LaGrange, the lunch lady, was selling homemade French cupcakes, but I couldn't buy one

吃午饭的时候，我和瑞恩、迈克尔还有那个裸体小孩尼尔坐在礼堂里。 学校的午餐是意大利面和肉丸，很恶心，可能是有毒的。 拉格朗日女士，那个卖午餐的女士，在卖自制的法式小蛋糕，但我一个也买不到

because I didn't have any extra money. Bummer in the summer! No way was I going to tell the guys what Ms. Coco said about my poems. They would probably make me sit with Andrea and her annoying nerd friends. Speaking of which, Andrea must have been burning through her encyclopedia, because at the table next to us, she was showing off all the new things she'd learned. Did you know that hummingbirds are the smallest birds? Andrea told her friends. And they're the only birds that can fly backward. Did you know that a parrot will die if it eats chocolate?

因为我没有多余的钱。 夏天的流浪者!我不可能告诉他们。 可可说我的诗。他们可能会让我和安德里亚还有她那些讨厌的书呆子朋友坐在一起。 说到这个，安德里亚一定是在翻看她的百科全书，因为在我们旁边的桌子上，她在炫耀她学到的所有新东西。 你知道蜂鸟是最小的鸟吗? 安德里亚告诉她的朋友们。它们是唯一能向后飞的鸟。 你知道鹦鹉吃了巧克力会死吗?

Ugh. It was horrible. The girls were hanging on to Andrea's every word like she was queen of the world. Me and the guys stuffed napkins in our ears to block out the sound. How many poems are we up to? asked Ryan. Six hundred and something, said Michael. Man, National Poetry Month stinks, Ryan said. There's only one thing worse than

啊。太可怕了。女孩们听着安德里亚说的每一个字就像她是世界女王一样。 我和伙计们把餐巾塞进耳朵里挡住声音。 我们要写多少首诗? 瑞恩问道。“六百多，”迈克尔说。 “天哪，全国诗歌月真臭，”瑞恩说。 只有一件事比

National Poetry Month, said Michael. TV Turn-off Week, we all agreed. I hate writing poems, said Neil the nude kid. I just can't do it. I kept my mouth shut. Writing poems came easily to me. In fact, I wrote a poem right there in my brain, but I didn't tell the guys. It went like this: Dirt bikes are fun. Dirt bikes are cool. I'd rather ride dirt bikes Than go to school.

“全国诗歌月，”迈克尔说。 电视关周，我们都同意。 我讨厌写诗，裸体小孩尼尔说。 我就是做不到。我保持沉默。 写诗对我来说很容易。 事实上，我当时就在脑子里写了一首诗，但我没告诉他们。 事情是这样的:越野车很有趣。 越野车很酷。我宁愿骑越野车也不愿去上学。

If we reach a thousand poems, said Neil, Mr. Klutz is gonna bring in a famous poet. He should bring in a famous skateboarder instead, I said. That would be way cooler. Maybe Mr. Klutz will bring in Dr. Seuss, said Michael. He's a poet. He's also dead, dumbhead, said Ryan. Dead people are lucky, I said. They don't have to celebrate National Poetry Month. Instead of sending criminals to jail, they should force them to write poems, said Neil the nude kid. Writing poems stinks. Yeah, we all agreed.

如果我们达到一千首诗，尼尔说，克鲁茨先生会请来一位著名诗人。 他应该带一个著名的滑板运动员来，我说。 那样就酷多了。也许克鲁茨先生会请。 苏斯，迈克尔说。他是个诗人。 他也死了，笨蛋，瑞恩说。 死人是幸运的，我说。 他们不需要庆祝全国诗歌月。 裸体小孩尼尔说，他们应该强迫罪犯写诗，而不是把他们送进监狱。 写诗很臭。是的，我们都同意了。

Then we made a list of things we would rather do than write poetry: Jump off Mount Everest Fat a live spider (Ryan's idea) Hit our thumbs with a hammer Eat razor blades for breakfast (also Ryan's idea) Listen to our parents' old CDs Go to school Dress up like a girl Kiss a girl Ugh! It was getting too disgusting. I could barely eat my lunch. Ryan, Michael, and Neil kept complaining

然后我们列了一张清单，列出了我们宁愿做的事情，而不是写诗:从珠穆朗玛峰上跳下来，养一只活蜘蛛(瑞恩的主意)用锤子敲我们的拇指吃剃须刀片当早餐(瑞恩的主意)听父母的旧cd去上学穿得像个女孩亲吻一个女孩啊!它变得太恶心了。 我几乎吃不下午餐。 瑞安、迈克尔和尼尔一直在抱怨