Nuwas

My doctor is a vascular surgeon putting on weight in middle age. At our first meeting last year, he taunted me on hearing the question about whether I could divide my tablets into two to maximise profit. "You were a doctor if you could do that", jeered he. Last week, when I had to ask him to check my numb right leg, he became dubious about an extra examination of MRA and DSA, and after a while said:"I feel unhappy to cost you too much money." On the following morning, after I paid for the registration, I showed my radiographs to him. "You must go to consult an orthopedist", he confirmed, "because it is beyond my profession to exam your bones." Unfortunately, I have felt sick to see him ever since.

When my director took a walk with us around the campus where I work, he asked me if I had taught everything that I knew to my students, obviously doubting my loyalty to my job. I did not answer him directly, but drew his attention to himself by asking him how he, as a child, loved the food cooked by his own mother. He said "Very much" without any hesitation. I continued to ask him if he had ever complained about the home-made dishes with requests for a king's cuisine. He said "No" smilingly, seemingly guessing my plan. I explained that was my case. If my students had asked me for a king's service without a king-sized pay, there was nothing more than normal teaching that I could supply them with. The same kind of story had happened again when a friend of mine grumbled about my meanness. He complained that I seldom treated him. I, as a return, asked him why he had never remitted some money to me but a net friend, with whom he was together for no more than s...

On one morning September in 1995, I walked with Mom and Himmel, looking for a travel agent along the pavement before Meridian Gate of Forbidden Palace in Beijing. All of a sudden, I saw Nicolas Sarkozy walking along nearby with a handful of bodyguards surrounded. I told my mother to check quickly. Then I shouted at my brother, since he had left us far behind after a small quarrel about our journey. "Himmel, Klima sah!" On the moment, Mr. Sarkozy noticed us and turned around to stop me with a hey, smiling like Mona Lisa. Without any hesitation, he began with one question and another. "Est-ce que tu parles Français?" "Un peu" I said, thanks to my curiosity about languages since junior high school. "Do you speak English?" "Yes, it is going to be my major in college in four years." I answered proudly. "Do you like French?" "Yes, I do. That is why I can speak a little." "What is your name?" "Duh...

In September in 1995, I walked with Mom and Himmel one morning, looking for a travel agent along the pavement before Meridian Gate of Forbidden Palace in Beijing. All of a sudden, I saw Nicolas Sarkozy walking along nearby with a handful of bodyguards surrrounded. I told my mother to check quickly. Then I shouted at my brother, since he had left us far behind after a small quarel about our journey. "Himmel, Klima sah!" On the moment, Mr. Sarkozy noticed us and turned around to stop me with a hey, smiling like Mona Lisa. Without any hesitation, he began with one question and another. "Est-ce que tu parles Français?" "Un peu" I said, thanks to my curiosity about languages since junior high school "Do you speak English?" "Yes, it is going to be my major in college in four years." I answered proudly. "Do you like French?" "Yes, I do. That is why I can speak a little." "What is your name?" "Duhsch-Kufu...