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Stephen King

inspiration ["Inspq'reIS(q)n], stomach ['stAmqk], church [CWC]

“You sure?” he asked.

“Just a little tired. Been hitchhiking a long time. And sometimes I get a little carsick.” Inspiration suddenly struck. “You know what, I think you better let me out. If I get a little fresh air, my stomach will settle. Someone else will come along and —”

“I couldn't do that,” he said. “Leave you out here? No way. It could be an hour before someone came along, and they might not pick you up when they did. I got to take care of you. What's that song? Get me to the church on time, right? No way I'm letting you out. Crack your window a little, that'll help. I know it doesn't smell exactly great in here. I hung up that air freshener, but those things don't work worth a shit. Of course, some smells are harder to get rid of than others.”

I wanted to reach out for the window crank and turn it (я хотел дотянуться до оконной ручки и повернуть ее), let in the fresh air (впустить свежий воздух), but the muscles in my arm wouldn't seem to tighten (но мышцы руки, казалось, не хотели сокращаться; tight — плотный; сжатый; напряженный). All I could do was sit there with my hands locked together (все, что я мог делать = начтоябылспособен, — это /просто/ сидеть, сжав руки вместе: «со сжатыми вместе руками»; lock — замок; запор; to lock — запиратьключом; сжимать, стискивать; соединять, сплетать), nails biting into the backs of them (ногтями впиваясь в их тыльную сторону; to bite — кусать). One set of muscles wouldn't work (одна группа мышц не хотела работать; set — комплект; набор; wouldn't используетсяздесьдляобозначенияупорногоневыполненияобъектомсвоихфункций); another wouldn't stop working (другая не переставала работать). What a joke (что за шутка).

“It's like that story (похоже на ту историю),” he said. “The one about the kid who buys the almost new Cadillac for seven hundred and fifty dollars (ту, что о парне, который покупает почти новый “кадиллак” за семьсот пятьдесят долларов). You know that story, don't you (ты знаешь эту историю, не так ли)?”

bite [baIt], joke [Gquk], hundred ['hAndrqd]

I wanted to reach out for the window crank and turn it, let in the fresh air, but the muscles in my arm wouldn't seem to tighten. All I could do was sit there with my hands locked together, nails biting into the backs of them. One set of muscles wouldn't work; another wouldn't stop working. What a joke.

“It's like that story,” he said. “The one about the kid who buys the almost new Cadillac for seven hundred and fifty dollars. You know that story, don't you?”

“Yeah,” I said through my numb lips (да, — сказал я онемевшими губами). I didn't know the story (я не знал эту историю), but I knew perfectly well that I didn't want to hear it (но я знал очень хорошо, что я не хотел ее слышать), didn't want to hear any story this man might have to tell (не хотел слышать никакую историю, /которую/ этот человек мог бы рассказать). “That one's famous (эта /история/ очень известна; fame — слава, известность).” Ahead of us the road leaped forward like a road in an old black-and-white movie (впереди нас быстро бежала дорога, как дорога в старом черно-белом кино; to leap — прыгать, скакать; forward — вперед).