In walks these three girls in nothi

In walks these three girls in nothing but bathing suits. I'm in the third check-out slot, with my back to the door, so I don't see them until they're over by the bread. The one that caught my eye first was the one in the plaid green two-piece. She was a chunky kid, with a good tan and a sweet broad soft-looking can with those two crescents of white just under it, where the sun never seems to hit, at the top of the backs of her legs. I stood there with my hand on a box of HiHo crackers trying to remember if I rang it up or not. I ring it up again and the customer starts giving me hell. She's one of these cash-register-watchers, a witch about fifty with rouge on her cheekbones and no eyebrows, and I knowit made her day to trip me up. She'd been watching cash registers forty years and probably never seen a mistake before.

By the time I got her feathers smoothed and her goodies into a bag -- she gives me alittle snort in passing, if she'd been born at the right time they would have burned her over in Salem -- by the time I get her on her way the girls had circled around the bread and were coming back, without a pushcart, back my way along the counters, in the aisle between the check-outs and the Special bins. They didn't even have shoes on. There was this chunky one, with the two-piece -- it was bright green and the seams on the bra were still sharp and her belly was still pretty pale so I guessed she just got it (the suit) -- there was this one, with one of those chubby berry-faces, the lips all bunched together under her nose, this one, and a tall one, with black hair that hadn't quite frizzed right, and one of these sunburns right across under the eyes, and a chin that was too long -- you know, the kind of girl other girls think is very "striking" and "attractive" but never quite makes it, as they very well know, which is why they like her so much -- and then the third one, that wasn't quite so tall. She was the queen. She kind of led them, the other two peeking around and making their shoulders round. She didn't look around, not this queen, she just walked straight on slowly, on these long white prima donna legs. She came down a little hard on her heels, as if she didn't walk in her bare feet that much, putting down her heels and then letting the weight move along to her toes as if she was testing the floor with every step, putting a little deliberate extra action into it. You never know for sure how girls' minds work (do you really think it's a mind in there or just a little buzz like a bee in a glassjar?) but you got the idea she had talked the other two into coming in here with her, and now she was showing them how to do it, walk slow and hold yourself straight.

She had on a kind of dirty-pink - - beige maybe, I don't know -- bathing suit with a little nubble all over it and, what got me, the straps were down. They were off her shoulders looped loose around the cool tops of her arms, and I guess as a result the suit had slipped a little on her, so all around the top of the cloth there was this shining rim. If it hadn't been there you wouldn't have known there could have been anything whiter than those shoulders. With the straps pushed off, there was nothing between the top of the suit and the top of her head except just her, this clean bare plane of the top of her chest down from the shoulder bones like a dented sheet of metal tilted in the light. I mean, it was more than pretty.

She had sort of oaky hair that the sun and salt had bleached, done up in a bun that was unravelling, and a kind of prim face. Walking into the A & P with your straps down, I suppose it's the only kind of face you can have. She held her head so high her neck, coming up out o fthose white shoulders, looked kind of stretched, but I didn't mind. The longer her neck was, the more of her there was.

She must have felt in the corner of her eye me and over my shoulder Stokesie in the second slot watching, but she didn't tip. Not this queen. She kept her eyes moving across the racks, and stopped, and turned so slow it made my stomach rub the inside of my apron, and buzzed to the other two, who kind of huddled against her for relief, and they all three of them went up the cat-and-dog-food-breakfast-cereal-macaroni-ri ce-raisins-seasonings-spreads-spaghetti-soft drinks- rackers-and- cookies aisle. From the third slot I look straight up this aisle to the meat counter, and I watched them all the way. The fat one with the tan sort of fumbled with the cookies, but on second thought she put the packages back. The sheep pushing their carts down the aisle -- the girls were walking against the usual traffic (not that we have one-way signs or anything) -- were pretty hilarious. You could see them, when Queenie's white shoulders dawned on them, kind of jerk, or hop, or hiccup, but their eyes snapped back to their own baskets and on they pushed. I bet you could set off dynamite in an A & P and the people would by and large keep reaching and checking oatmeal off their lists and muttering "Let me see, there was a third thing, began with A, asparagus, no, ah, yes, applesauce!" or whatever it is they do mutter. But there was no doubt, this jiggled them. A few house-slaves in pin curlers even looked around after pushing their carts past to make sure what they had seen was correct.

You know, it's one thing to have a girl in a bathing suit down on the beach, where what with the glare nobody can look at each other much anyway, and another thing in the cool of the A & P, under the fluorescent lights, against all those stacked packages, with her feet paddling along naked over our checkerboard green-and-cream rubber-tile floor.

"Oh Daddy," Stokesie said beside me. "I feel so faint."

"Darling," I said. "Hold me tight." Stokesie's married, with two babies chalked up on his fuselage already, but as far as I can tell that's the only difference. He's twenty-two, and I was nineteen this April.

"Is it done?" he asks, the responsible married man finding his voice. I forgot to say he thinks he's going to be manager some sunny day, maybe in 1990 when it's called the Great Alexandrov and Petrooshki Tea Company or something.

What he meant was, our town is five miles from a beach, with a big summer colony out on the Point, but we're right in the middle of town, and the women generally put on a shirt or shorts or something before they get out of the car into the street. And anyway these are usually women with six children and varicose veins mapping their legs and nobody, including them, could care less. As I say, we're right in the middle of town, and if you stand at our front doors you can see two banks and the Congregational church and the newspaper store and three real-estate offices and about twenty-seven old free-loaders tearing up Central Street because the sewer broke again. It's not as if we're on the Cape; we're north of Boston and there's people in this town haven't seen the ocean for twenty years.

The girls had reached the meat counter and were asking McMahon something. He pointed, they pointed, and they shuffled out of sight behind a pyramid of Diet Delight peaches. All that was left for us to see was old McMahon patting his mouth and looking after them sizing up their joints. Poor kids, I began to feel sorry for them, they couldn't help it.
Now here comes the sad part of the story, at:least my family says it's sad but I don't think it's sad myself. The store's pretty empty, it being Thursday afternoon, so there was nothing much to do except lean on the register and wait for the girls to show up again. The whole store was like a pinball machine and I didn't know which tunnel they'd come out of. After a while they come around out of the far aisle, around the light bulbs, records at discount of the Caribbean Six or Tony Martin Sings or some such gunk you wonder they waste the wax on, sixpacks of candy bars, and plastic toys done up in cellophane that faIl apart when a kid looks at them anyway. Around they come, Queenie still leading the way, and holding a little gray jar in her hand. Slots Three through Seven are unmanned and I could see her wondering between Stokes and me, but Stokesie with his usual luck draws an old party in baggy gray pants who stumbles up with four giant cans of pineapple juice (what do these bums do with all that pineapple juice' I've often asked myself) so the girls come to me. Queenie puts down the jar and I take it into my fingers icy cold. Kingfish Fancy Herring Snacks in Pure Sour Cream: 49¢. Now her hands are empty, not a ring or a bracelet, bare as God made them, and I wonder where the money's coming from. Still with that prim look she lifts a folded dollar bill out of the hollow at the center of her nubbled pink top. The jar went heavy in my hand. Really, I thought that was so cute.

Then everybody's luck begins to run out. Lengel comes in from haggling with a truck full of cabbages on the lot and is about to scuttle into that door marked MANAGER behind which he hides all day when the girls touch his eye. Lengel's pretty dreary, teaches Sunday school and the rest, but he doesn't miss that much. He comes over and says, "Girls, this isn't the beach."

Queenie blushes, though maybe it's just a brush of sunburn I was noticing for the first time, now that she was so close. "My mother asked me to pick up a jar of herring snacks." Her voice kind of startled me, the way voices do when you see the people first, coming out so flat and dumb yet kind of tony, too, the way it ticked over "pick up" and "snacks." All of a sudden I slid right down her voice into her living room. Her father and the other men were standing around in ice-cream coats and bow ties and the women were in sandals picking up herring snacks on toothpicks off a big plate and they were all holding drinks the color of water with olives and sprigs of mint in them. When my parents have somebody over they get lemonade and if it's a real racy affair Schlitz in tall glasses w

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

Trong đi ba cô gái ở không có gì nhưng quần áo tắm. Tôi đang trong các khe trả thứ ba, với tao đến cửa, do đó, tôi không nhìn thấy chúng cho đến khi họ đang trên của bánh mì. Một trong đó đánh bắt mắt của tôi lần đầu tiên là một sọc màu xanh lá cây hai mảnh. Cô đã là một bé chunky, với một tan tốt và một ngọt rộng mềm, tìm kiếm có thể với những crescents hai trắng ngay dưới nó, nơi mặt trời không bao giờ có vẻ như để đạt, ở phía trên lưng của chân của mình. Tôi đứng đó với bàn tay của tôi trên một hộp bánh HiHo cố gắng để nhớ nếu tôi rang nó lên hay không. Tôi gửi nó một lần nữa và khách hàng bắt đầu đem lại cho tôi địa ngục. Cô là một trong những tiền mặt đăng ký theo dõi, một phù thủy về năm mươi với rouge trên xương gò má của mình và không có lông mày, và tôi knowit làm cho ngày của cô để chuyến đi tôi lên. Cô đã xem tiền mặt đăng ký bốn mươi năm và có lẽ không bao giờ nhìn thấy một sai lầm trước khi.Bởi thời gian tôi nhận của cô lông smoothed và goodies của mình vào một túi - nó mang lại cho tôi alittle snort trong đi qua, nếu cô ấy đã được sinh ra vào đúng thời điểm họ nào đã đốt cháy của cô trên ở Salem--khi tôi nhận được nó trên đường đi các cô gái có vòng quanh bánh mì và đã sắp trở lại, mà không có một pushcart, trở lại theo cách của tôi dọc theo đồng hồ , trong lối đi giữa các phòng-outs và các thùng đặc biệt. Họ thậm chí không có giày. Có là điều này một chunky, với two-piece - đó là màu xanh lá cây tươi sáng và seams trên ngực đã được vẫn sắc nét và bụng của cô là vẫn còn khá nhạt vì vậy tôi đoán nó chỉ có nó (phù hợp với) - đã có một, với một trong những chubby berry-khuôn mặt, đôi môi tất cả tụ với nhau dưới mũi, điều này, và một cao , với mái tóc đen mà đã không khá frizzed bên phải, và một trong những cháy nắng ngay bên kia dưới mắt, và một cằm là quá dài - bạn đã biết, các loại của cô gái cô gái khác nghĩ rất "nổi bật" và "hấp dẫn" nhưng không bao giờ khá làm cho nó, bởi vì họ rất tốt biết, đó là lý do tại sao họ thích cô ấy rất nhiều - và sau đó một phần ba , đó không phải là khá như vậy cao. Cô là nữ hoàng. Nó loại dẫn họ, hai nhìn trộm xung quanh và làm cho họ vai vòng. Cô ấy không nhìn xung quanh, không phải nữ hoàng, cô chỉ đi thẳng vào từ từ, những chân dài màu trắng prima donna. Cô đã xuống một chút cứng trên gót của mình, nếu như cô không đi bộ trong chân trần của mình mà nhiều, đặt xuống gót của mình và sau đó cho phép trọng lượng di chuyển dọc theo đến ngón chân của mình như thể nó đã thử nghiệm sàn với mỗi bước, đặt một ít hành động cố ý thêm vào nó. Bạn không bao giờ biết chắc chắn làm thế nào tâm trí của cô gái làm việc (làm bạn thực sự nghĩ rằng đó là một quan điểm đó hoặc chỉ là một buzz ít giống như một con ong trong một glassjar?) nhưng bạn có ý tưởng cô đã nói chuyện khác hai vào đến đây với cô ấy, và bây giờ cô ấy Hiển thị cho họ làm thế nào để làm điều đó, đi bộ chậm và giữ cho mình thẳng.Cô đã có trên một loại bẩn màu hồng - màu be có lẽ, tôi không biết--tắm phù hợp với một chút nubble trên tất cả nó và, những gì tôi đã, quai đã xuống. Họ đã giảm vai looped lỏng xung quanh các đỉnh mát mẻ của cánh tay của cô, và tôi đoán như là một kết quả phù hợp có trượt một chút về cô ấy, do đó, tất cả xung quanh đầu của vải có là này rim sáng. Nếu nó đã không ở đó bạn sẽ không có biết có thể có là bất cứ điều gì trắng hơn những vai. Với quai bị đẩy, đã có không có gì giữa đầu phù hợp và ở đầu đầu ngoại trừ chỉ có cô, chiếc máy bay này sạch trần của đầu ngực của cô xuống từ xương vai như một tờ dented kim loại nghiêng trong ánh sáng. Tôi có nghĩa là, nó đã khá hơn.Cô đã có loại oaky tóc mặt trời và muối có tẩy trắng, lên trong một bun unravelling, và một loại nghiêm khuôn mặt. Đi bộ vào A & P với dây đai của bạn xuống, tôi giả sử nó là vùng duy nhất của khuôn mặt bạn có thể có. Cô đã tổ chức đầu quá cao cổ của cô, ra o fthose trắng vai, trông loại kéo dài, nhưng tôi không nhớ. Còn cổ của cô là, càng có nhiều cô có.Cô phải có cảm thấy ở góc của mắt của cô tôi và qua vai của tôi Stokesie trong thứ hai khe xem, nhưng cô không Mẹo. Không phải nữ hoàng. Cô giữ đôi mắt của cô di chuyển qua các kệ, và dừng lại và quay chậm như vậy nó làm cho dạ dày của tôi rub bên trong sân đỗ của tôi, và buzzed để hai chiếc khác người loại huddled đối với cô ấy để giảm, và họ tất cả ba trong số họ đã đi lên lối đi đồ uống-rackers-và-cookie ce-raisins-seasonings-spreads-spaghetti-soft cat-and-dog-food-breakfast-cereal-macaroni-ri. Từ các khe cắm thứ ba tôi nhìn thẳng lên lối đi này để truy cập thịt, và tôi theo dõi chúng ta. Chất béo một với tan loại fumbled với các tập tin cookie, nhưng ngày nghĩ thứ hai nó đưa các gói trở lại. Các con chiên đẩy xe của họ xuống lối đi - các cô gái đã đi bộ chống lại bình thường lưu lượng truy cập (không phải là chúng tôi có một dấu hiệu hoặc bất cứ điều gì) - đã khá hilarious. Bạn có thể nhìn thấy chúng, khi vai trắng của Queenie ảm đạm vào chúng, loại jerk, hop hoặc hiccup, nhưng đôi mắt của mình gãy trở lại để mình giỏ và ngày họ đẩy. Tôi đặt cược bạn có thể đặt ra nổ trong một A & P và những người nào và lớn tiếp tục đạt và kiểm tra bột yến mạch ra danh sách của họ và muttering "Hãy để tôi xem, đó là một điều thứ ba, bắt đầu với A, măng tây, không có, ah, Vâng, táo!" hoặc bất cứ điều gì nó là họ mutter. Nhưng không có nghi ngờ, điều này jiggled chúng. Một vài nhà-nô lệ trong pin ống cuộn tóc thậm chí nhìn xung quanh sau khi đẩy xe của họ trong quá khứ để chắc chắn rằng những gì họ đã thấy được chính xác.You know, it's one thing to have a girl in a bathing suit down on the beach, where what with the glare nobody can look at each other much anyway, and another thing in the cool of the A & P, under the fluorescent lights, against all those stacked packages, with her feet paddling along naked over our checkerboard green-and-cream rubber-tile floor."Oh Daddy," Stokesie said beside me. "I feel so faint.""Darling," I said. "Hold me tight." Stokesie's married, with two babies chalked up on his fuselage already, but as far as I can tell that's the only difference. He's twenty-two, and I was nineteen this April."Is it done?" he asks, the responsible married man finding his voice. I forgot to say he thinks he's going to be manager some sunny day, maybe in 1990 when it's called the Great Alexandrov and Petrooshki Tea Company or something.What he meant was, our town is five miles from a beach, with a big summer colony out on the Point, but we're right in the middle of town, and the women generally put on a shirt or shorts or something before they get out of the car into the street. And anyway these are usually women with six children and varicose veins mapping their legs and nobody, including them, could care less. As I say, we're right in the middle of town, and if you stand at our front doors you can see two banks and the Congregational church and the newspaper store and three real-estate offices and about twenty-seven old free-loaders tearing up Central Street because the sewer broke again. It's not as if we're on the Cape; we're north of Boston and there's people in this town haven't seen the ocean for twenty years.The girls had reached the meat counter and were asking McMahon something. He pointed, they pointed, and they shuffled out of sight behind a pyramid of Diet Delight peaches. All that was left for us to see was old McMahon patting his mouth and looking after them sizing up their joints. Poor kids, I began to feel sorry for them, they couldn't help it. Now here comes the sad part of the story, at:least my family says it's sad but I don't think it's sad myself. The store's pretty empty, it being Thursday afternoon, so there was nothing much to do except lean on the register and wait for the girls to show up again. The whole store was like a pinball machine and I didn't know which tunnel they'd come out of. After a while they come around out of the far aisle, around the light bulbs, records at discount of the Caribbean Six or Tony Martin Sings or some such gunk you wonder they waste the wax on, sixpacks of candy bars, and plastic toys done up in cellophane that faIl apart when a kid looks at them anyway. Around they come, Queenie still leading the way, and holding a little gray jar in her hand. Slots Three through Seven are unmanned and I could see her wondering between Stokes and me, but Stokesie with his usual luck draws an old party in baggy gray pants who stumbles up with four giant cans of pineapple juice (what do these bums do with all that pineapple juice' I've often asked myself) so the girls come to me. Queenie puts down the jar and I take it into my fingers icy cold. Kingfish Fancy Herring Snacks in Pure Sour Cream: 49¢. Now her hands are empty, not a ring or a bracelet, bare as God made them, and I wonder where the money's coming from. Still with that prim look she lifts a folded dollar bill out of the hollow at the center of her nubbled pink top. The jar went heavy in my hand. Really, I thought that was so cute.Then everybody's luck begins to run out. Lengel comes in from haggling with a truck full of cabbages on the lot and is about to scuttle into that door marked MANAGER behind which he hides all day when the girls touch his eye. Lengel's pretty dreary, teaches Sunday school and the rest, but he doesn't miss that much. He comes over and says, "Girls, this isn't the beach."Queenie blushes, though maybe it's just a brush of sunburn I was noticing for the first time, now that she was so close. "My mother asked me to pick up a jar of herring snacks." Her voice kind of startled me, the way voices do when you see the people first, coming out so flat and dumb yet kind of tony, too, the way it ticked over "pick up" and "snacks." All of a sudden I slid right down her voice into her living room. Her father and the other men were standing around in ice-cream coats and bow ties and the women were in sandals picking up herring snacks on toothpicks off a big plate and they were all holding drinks the color of water with olives and sprigs of mint in them. When my parents have somebody over they get lemonade and if it's a real racy affair Schlitz in tall glasses w