Devil in the Words. Книга для практики английского языка

– Yes, sure.

Sveta added Peter as a friend. Peter did the same.

– Well, now you have friends.

– Yes, it’s cool.

– Have you written a lot already? I’m talking about the book.

– No, only three chapters.

– It’s difficult. You need to invent and then write.

– Yes, you have to sit for several hours on each chapter. It happens even half a day.

– Sorry, I need to leave, I’m at work now. Then the authorities came.

– Fine.

Peter’s mood improved somewhat. He made his first friend on a social network, and it was a pretty girl. Peter took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.

– Why not write about it. About how I met a girl. – Peter thought.

The keys jingled in the keyhole. The door opened and Christina entered the apartment. Peter watched her through the slightly open door. She took off her briefcase and threw it in the corridor. Then she took off her shoes and immediately went to Peter’s room.

– Give me the computer, I urgently need to write to my friend. – she said, standing next to Peter.

Peter looked at the monitor, then at his sister, and reluctantly crawled out from behind the computer. The sister sat down in a chair and began to enter the username and password for her social network page.

Stepping away from the computer, Peter lay down on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. Now his thoughts were not absorbed only by the book, there was a place in them for Sveta. Peter didn’t really look at her photograph, but, at first glance, Sveta seemed quite attractive to him.

After lying on the sofa for about ten minutes, Peter got up, took a mug with the remaining coffee from the table, and went to the kitchen to pour new, hot coffee. The sister was sitting on the computer, communicating with someone on a social network, and at the same time watching videos of popular bloggers.

– Make me something to eat! – the sister shouted after him as Peter left the room.

– Fine.

Having reached the kitchen, Peter turned on the kettle, put the mug on the table, and climbed into the refrigerator to figure out what to cook for his sister for lunch.

– Make me some dumplings! – the sister’s voice was heard.

Peter closed the refrigerator and opened the freezer. From there he took a pack of dumplings.

– Fry them! – was heard from the room again.

Putting a pack of dumplings on the table, Peter lit the gas under the frying pan and poured some vegetable oil into it. Then he took a pack of dumplings, opened it, and counted out twenty dumplings, which he placed on the frying pan. The dumplings sizzled. Peter turned down the gas so they wouldn’t burn and put the leftovers back in the freezer.

Closing the frying pan with a lid, Peter poured himself a new mug of coffee and sat down at the table. Sitting at the table, he began to watch TV. A program about travel was shown on TV. At that moment, Peter thought that if he could earn money, if his book was published and he would earn a lot of money from it, then he would certainly go on a trip too. I would go to some exotic country, to Egypt, or to China, or maybe I would go to Dubai. There were many places to go, but there was no money.

Having taken a sip of coffee, Peter stood up from the table and went to the stove. He removed the lid from the frying pan and, taking a wooden spatula, stirred the dumplings, after which he closed the frying pan with a lid.

– He might give up this whole writing thing. I don’t like to write. I have to admit to myself that it doesn’t give me any pleasure to write, especially when you have to write a lot, and you have no idea what to write about or how to fill the pages. – Peter thought, returning to the table.

He clamped his fingers around the coffee mug and stared into it. After taking a sip, he turned his gaze to the TV.

My sister came into the kitchen.

– Will the dumplings be ready soon?

– In about five minutes.

– Okay, I’ll be on the computer, bring them to me when they’re ready.

– Don’t you need to do your homework?

– It’s necessary, but I’ll do them later.

– Come on, don’t sit for long, I also need a computer.

– Okay, but most importantly, bring me the dumplings.

– Okay, okay. – Peter mumbled, taking another sip of coffee.

When the dumplings were ready, Peter turned off the gas under the frying pan, put the dumplings on a plate and, putting the fork there, took everything into the room. He placed the plate on the table in front of the keyboard.

– Bring some ketchup. – said Christina, taking a fork and pricking one dumpling on it.

Peter went back to the kitchen, took ketchup out of the refrigerator, and took it to his sister. She squeezed ketchup into the dumplings and returned it to Peter. He took it to the refrigerator.

There was nothing to do. All that was left was to watch TV. But it was uncomfortable to sit in the kitchen, my back quickly got tired, and the coffee had already left an unpleasant taste in my mouth.

Taking a mug of coffee, Peter poured the rest into the sink and, after rinsing it, put a tea bag there. The kettle was still hot, but not hot enough for the tea to brew. Peter turned on the electric kettle and stood next to it, waiting for the water to boil in it.

When the water in the kettle boiled, Peter took it and poured water into the mug in which the tea bag lay. The water turned dark brown. Taking a teaspoon, Peter crushed the tea bag, which made the water even darker. Having brewed tea, he took the bag out of the mug and threw it into the trash can. Then he put three spoons of sugar into the mug and mixed everything thoroughly.

After taking a sip of tea, he sat down at the table and stared at the TV, which was still showing a travel program. The program was interesting, it showed all the countries that were on the world map. Peter was surprised by how people lived in other countries, especially in countries like India, where they didn’t even remove garbage from the streets and where there was no sewage system. People were too spiritual, they did not value life or comfort. This seemed strange to Peter, but in India it was normal. As explained in the program, Hindus believe in castes, and that later they will be reborn in another caste and will live like kings.

– This is all strange. Is it so difficult to keep the streets clean? – thought Peter, taking another sip of tea. «I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t read or write books.» Where will writers and those who will read them come from in such a dump? Although you yourself are not that much of a writer. I decided to write a book, but I don’t even know what to write it about. You write some boring nonsense, where each chapter is nothing more than a copy of the first chapter. But on the other hand, if there are so few varied events in the life of a writer, what now? Inventing tall tales about him writing a book and fighting space aliens? Stupidity. A boring book about a boring person.

– I’m done, you can go to the computer. – said the sister, coming out into the kitchen with an empty plate. She took it to the sink and went to her room to do her homework.

– Great! – said Peter and, taking a mug of tea, went to the computer.

Returning to the computer, he opened his social network page. Sveta was offline. Then Peter decided to write the fourth chapter of the book. He opened the office program, scrolled to the bottom of the text, wrote a chapter subtitle, and began to describe another, boring day of the writer. There was nothing interesting to come up with, and it was impossible to come up with anything, because the book was just about a guy who writes a book, and nothing more. Any imagination could spoil the plot, nothing could be added, and for an entire chapter I had to write a boring day, during which the main character walks from the computer to the refrigerator, drinks coffee and tries to compose a text.

The hardest part was dragging out the moments when it was necessary to describe on two pages how the main character cooks scrambled eggs and pours coffee.

Without going into details, each day could be fit into two paragraphs, simply by briefly writing that the main character poured coffee, cooked scrambled eggs, had breakfast, and went to write a book. But the publishers wanted at least eight author sheets, and for this, it was necessary to write at least three thousand words in each chapter.