经典科幻文学:《 再见 多谢你们的鱼》第13章

That night, at home, as he was prancing round the house pretending to be tripping through cornfields in slow motion and continually exploding with sudden laughter, Arthur thought he could even bear to listen to the album of bagpipe music he had won. It was eight o’clock and he decided he would make himself, force himself, to listen to the whole record before he phoned her. Maybe he should even leave it till tomorrow. That would be the cool thing to do. Or next week sometime.
No. No games. He wanted her and didn’t care who knew it. He definitely and absolutely wanted her, adored her, longed for her, wanted to do more things than there were names for with her. He actually caught himself saying thinks like “Yippee” as he prances ridiculously round the house. Her eyes, her hair, her voice, everything…
He stopped.
He would put on the record of bagpipe music. Then he would call her.
Would he, perhaps, call her first?
No. What he would do was this. He would put on the record of bagpipe music. He would listen to it, every last banshee wail of it. Then he would call her. That was the correct order. That was what he would do.
He was worried about touching things in case they blew up when he did so.
He picked up the record. It failed to blow up. He slipped it out of its cover. He opened the record player, he turned on the amp. They both survived. He giggled foolishly as he lowered the stylus on to the disc.
He sat and listened solemnly to “A Scottish Soldier”.
He listened to “Amazing Grace”.
He listened to something about some glen or other.
He thought about his miraculous lunchtime.
They had just been on the point of leaving, when they were distracted by an awful outbreak of “yoo-hooing”. The appallingly permed woman was waving to them across the room like some stupid bird with a broken wing. Everyone in the pub turned to them and seemed to be expecting some sort of response.
They hadn’t listened to the bit about how pleased and happy Anjie was going to be about the 4.30p everyone had helped to raise towards the cost of her kidney machine, had been vaguely aware that someone from the next table had won a box of cherry brandy liqueurs, and took a moment or two to cotton on to the fact that the yoo-hooing lady was trying to ask them if they had ticket number 37.
Arthur discovered that he had. He glanced angrily at his watch.
Fenchurch gave him a push.
Go on, she said, go and get it. Don’t be bad tempered. Give them a nice speech about how pleased you are and you can give me a call and tell me how it went. I’ll want to hear the record. Go on.
She flicked his arm and left.
The regulars thought his acceptance speech a little over-effusive. It was, after all, merely an album of bagpipe music.
Arthur thought about it, and listened to the music, and kept on breaking into laughter.

那天夜里，阿瑟在家里激动地绕着圈，假装是在麦田里用慢动作跳舞，并不时地爆发出一阵阵大笑，阿瑟甚至觉得自己可以忍受他赢来的那张风笛唱片。八点了，在给她打电话之前，他决定要让自己，强迫自己听下整张专辑。也许甚至可以把这件事留到明天。那会很酷的。或者下一周的某个时候。
不。不要搞了。他想要她，而且不在乎谁会知道。他绝绝对对完完全全地想要她，爱慕她，渴望她，想要和她做更多的事，那些无法用语言描述的事。他发现自己在白痴地绕圈时居然会说出“Yippee”这样的表示喜悦的感叹词。她的明眸，她的秀发，她的声音，一切一切......
他停止了绕圈。
他要开始放那张风笛唱片。然后他要给她打电话。
也许，他可以，先给她打电话？
不行。他要做的是这些：他要播放那张风笛唱片。他会聆听那张唱片，聆听每个班西妖精（注1）的哀嚎。接着他再去打电话。这才是正确的顺序。这才是他要做的。
他小心翼翼，害怕自己手一碰，那玩意儿会爆炸。
他把唱片捏起来。唱片没有爆炸。他把唱片从封套里滑出来。他打开唱机，拧开扩音器。他们都还幸存着。他一边傻笑一边把唱针放下来。
他坐下来严肃地听完了《一名苏格兰士兵》。
他听完了《奇异恩典》(注2)。
他听完了某些关于峡谷或其它什么玩意儿的音乐。
他想起了自己不可思议的午餐时光。
他们当时正要离开，突然被不知哪里爆发出的一声恶心的“唷嗬~~”弄得心烦意乱。那个整洁得可怕的女人正在隔着屋子向他们挥手，就像某些折了翅膀的蠢鸟。酒馆里的每个人都转向他们，并期待着发生些什么。
他们没有费心去听那些关于安洁将对每个人为她的人工肾捐献的4.30便士有多么高兴，而是注意到邻桌的某人似乎赢了一箱樱桃牌利口酒。他们花了一段时间才明白那个“唷嗬女”正在问他们有没有37号彩票。
阿瑟发现他有37号彩票。他恼怒地瞅了一眼表。
芬琪诗推了他一把。
“去吧，”她说，“把奖品拿过来。别这么坏脾气。给他们好好讲一通，告诉他们你有多么高兴，随后你可以打电话告诉我情况怎么样。我想听听那张唱片。去吧。”
她拍了一下他的胳膊然后离去了。
那些客人们觉得阿瑟的获奖感言有些太过激情洋溢了。 毕竟，那只是一张风笛乐专辑。
阿瑟想到这些，听着音乐，继续不停地爆发出大笑。