#3 Three Musketeers in a Pub - The Fashionable and Hilarious Guy

  •  
  • 361
  • 5
  • 3
  • English 
Aug 7, 2016 18:22
“Don't worry. English will come easily to you,” I said, hoping to cheer her up.

Looking around, I found the essential member of the trio, Dennis, was absent, so I asked Yoyo, “Where is he?”

“Forget it. That loco said he was caught in a traffic jam,” muttered Yoyo in discontent. “He’s never on time.”

Speak of the devil, there was Dennis at the door, making his way to us with a confident gait. He wore a flashy shirt, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His trendy Burberry backpack swayed on its straps in a pulsating rhythm as he swaggered in.That guy was trendy, perhaps because he worked in fashion and was therefore influenced by the stylish company he kept. It was said that when Dennis lost money in the Mahjong games to a bunch of cynical middle-aged housewives, he would roll his eyes, tug at the collar of his gaudy Burberry suit, and yell in a haughty tone, “This cost me $4,000!”

Although he seemed to be a vain dick who liked to put on airs, this dude, in point of fact, was a down-to-earth guy on the inside. After showing off his clothes, he would add hastily that they were actually purchased at in-house prices up to a 90 percent discount. He just took pleasure in pretending to be a glib jerk to be funny and entertaining.
酒吧里的三死党 3

“别紧张。你到那边学英语很快的!”我说道,尽量让她开心起来。环顾四周,我发现三人组里的Dennis不见踪影,于是就问Yoyo,“那家伙死到哪里去了?

”Yoyo不满地喃喃道:“他那死鬼堵在路上。这家伙从来不准时。”

说曹操,曹操到。Dennis出现在门口,穿着一件时髦的衬衫,袖子卷到上臂,他的Barberry背包一晃一晃,正大步走来。他很时髦,因为他在时尚圈工作,估摸着也容易受圈内人的影响。据说,Dennis在和一群世俗中年妇女打麻将输了钱时,他两眼一斜,扯着他花哨的Burberry衬衫的衣领,趾高气昂地说:“我这件衣服要两万多!”

其实,他并不是一个爱慕虚荣,装腔作势的人。他的内心还是很实诚的,在我们面前秀完衣服后,紧接着会说,他的衣服其实是以一折的员工内部价买的。总之,他只是喜欢假装成一个油嘴滑舌的二货,来搞笑的。

#1 Three Musketeers in a Pub

The other day, as work was ending, my smartphone on the far right side of the table started ringing. I took a cursory look at the screen out of the corner of my eye. It was Yoyo, a primary school classmate of mine, an attractive young lady. I reached out my hand to grab the phone and clicked on it.

A familiar voice came out and said, “Hi, Carman! You, Dennis, and I meet at Helen’s bar at 7 tonight.” “Okay, no problem.” I replied quickly and then hung up the phone. Best friends don't need to say much to get the message across, do we? She‘s going to study in the USA this August, so she wanted one last get-gather of us before she jetted over the Pacific Ocean to another country.

Yoyo, Dennis, and I are like three musketeers. We’ve been best friends since childhood. Many people may no longer remember their primary school classmates’ names when they’ve grown up, but we do; and more than that, we are still the best of friends, simply because all of my classmates used to live in the same neighborhood. We hung out together on the way to and from school.
__________________________________________________________________

#2 Three Musketeers in a Pub

The pub where we were to meet was called Helen’s Bar, located in the urban core. It was a place where a bunch of hipsters congregated, singing and dancing till midnight. Yoyo and I were not party animals or pub guys, but Dennis was. He was a gregarious salesman working in Burberry. Two years ago, when Yoyo was dumped by her boyfriend, Dennis dragged us into this bar, where he was a regular, in order to take her mind off that perturbing lovelorn stuff. Since then, we’d met in that clamorous, dim space from time to time. I’d grown to love it; after all, it felt so nice to do a bit of drinking and wind down from the day.

It took me 40 minutes to reach the bar. On entering, I surveyed this territory of the hipsters, this hidden paradise. There were few patrons at the time, but after a few hours, there would be a flock of uninhibited people coming in to indulge themselves in bacchanalian revelry. I looked over to a corner table, where we usually drank and chattered. Yoyo was right there, dressed in a taupe round-neck cotton T-shirt, waving her hands cheerfully at me. I made a beeline to the place, and then took a seat opposite her.

“How is it going?” I asked.

“Not too bad,” she sighed. “I just have no idea what my life in the US will be like. My English sucks. You know it.”

Yoyo’s English was truly no good. When she decided to start learning English again a year ago, she found her English skills had become so rusty that she even had difficulty constructing a sentence. She’d taken the IETLS examinations three times and finally eked out a 6. She was going to study law in the States, so I guessed the grad-school life in the immediate future would be grim for her.