Dahl, Roald by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: spa
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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The men stood beside the airplane painting away and talking about the hea t.

"Painting pictures on the aircraft," I said.

"Yes," said Peter. "It's a great idea. It's subtle."

"Why?" I said. "Just you tell me."

"They're funny pictures," he said. "The German pilots will all laugh when they see them; they'll shake so with their laughing that they won't be able to shoot straight."

"Oh baloney baloney baloney."

"No, it's a great idea. It's fine. Come and have a look."

We ran towards the line of aircraft. "Hop, skip, jump," said Peter. "Hop s kip jump, keep in time."

"Hop skip jump," I said, "Hop skip jump," and we danced along.

The painter on the first aeroplane had a straw hat on his head and a sa d face. He was copying the drawing out of a magazine, and when Peter saw it he said, "Boy oh boy look at that picture," and he began to laugh. His lau gh began with a rumble and grew quickly into a belly-roar and he slapped hi s thighs with his hands both at the same time and went on laughing with his body doubled up and his mouth wide open and his eyes shut. His silk top ha t fell off his head on to the sand.

"That's not funny," I said.

"Not funny!" he cried. "What d'you mean "not funny'? Look at me. Look at me laughing. Laughing like this I couldn't hit anything. I couldn't hit a hay wagon or a house or a louse." And he capered about on the sand, gur gling and shaking with laughter. Then he seized me by the arm and we dance d over to the next aeroplane. "Hop skip jump," he said. "Hop skip jump."

There was a small man with a crumpled face writing a long story on the f uselage with a red crayon. His straw hat was perched straight on the back of his head and his face was shiny with sweat.

"Good morning," he said. "Good morning, good morning," and he swept hi s hat off his head in a very elegant way.

Peter said, "Shut up," and bent down and began to read what the little man had been writing. All the time Peter was spluttering and rumbling with laughter, and as he read he began to laugh afresh. He rocked from one side to the other and danced around on the sand slapping his thighs with his han ds and bending his body. "Oh my, what a story, what a story, what a story.

Look at me. Look at me laughing," and he hopped about on his toes, shaking his head and chortling like a madman. Then suddenly I saw the joke and I be gan to laugh with him. I laughed so much that my stomach hurt and I fell do wn and rolled around on the sand and roared and roared because it was so fu nny that there was nothing else I could do.

"Peter, you're marvellous," I shouted. "But can all those German pilots r ead English?"

"Oh hell," he said.

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