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franchiser/['fræntʃaizə]/n.给别人经营联营特许权的公司或制造厂
星球大战 第六章(6)
本文属阅读资料,没有听力
That finished things as far as the bartender was concerned, but Luke now found

himself the subject of some unwanted attention. He abruptly became aware of his

isolation and felt as if at one time or another every eye in the place rested a moment

on him, that things human and otherwise were smirking and making comments about

him behind his back.

Trying to maintain an air of quiet confidence, he returned his gaze to old Ben,

and started when he saw what the oldster was talking to now. The Corellian was

gone. In its place Kenobi was chatting with a towering anthropoid that showed a

mouthful of teeth when it smiled.

Luke had heard about Wookies, but he had never expected to see one, much less

meet on. Despite an almost comical quasi-monkey face, the Wookie was anything

but gentle looking. Only the large, glowing yellow eyes softened its otherwise

awesome appearance. The massive torso was covered entirely with soft, thick russet

fur. Less appealing cover consisted of a pair of chromed bandoliers, which held

lethal projectiles of a type unknown to Luke. Other than these, the Wookies wore

little.

Not, Luke knew, that anyone would laugh at the creature's mode of dress. He saw

that other denizens of the bar eddied and swirled around the huge form without ever

coming too close. All but old Ben—Ben who was talking to the Wookie in its own

language, quarreling and hooting softly like a native.

In the course of the conversation the old man had occasion to gesture in Luke's

direction. Once the huge anthropoid stared directly at Luke and let out a horrifying

howling laugh.

Disgruntled by the role he was evidently playing in the discussion, Luke turned

away and pretended to ignore the whole conversation. He might be acting unfairly

toward the creature, but he doubted that spine-quaking laugh was meant in gentle

good-fellowship.

For the life of him he couldn't understand what Ben wanted with the monster, or

why he was spending his time in guttural conversation with it instead of with the now-

vanished Corellians. So he sat and sipped his drink in splendid silence, his eyes

roving over the crowd in hopes of meeting a responsive gaze that held no belligerence.

Suddenly, something shoved him roughly from behind, so hard he almost fell.

He turned angrily, but his fury spent itself in astonishment. He found himself

confronted by a large squarish monstrosity of multiple eyes and indeterminate origin.

"Negola dewaghi wooldugger?" the apparition bubbled challengingly.

Luke had never seen its like before; he knew neither its species nor its language.

The gabbling might have been an invitation to a fight, a request to share a drink, or a

marriage proposal. Despite his ignorance, however, Luke could tell by the way the

creature bobbed and wove unsteadily on its podal supports that it had imbibed too

much of whatever it considered a pleasing intoxicant.

Not knowing what else to do, Luke tried turning back to his own drink while

studiously ignoring the creature. As he did so, a thing—a cross between a capybara

and a small baboon—bounced over to stand (or squat) next to the quivering many-eye.

A short, companionable arm around the snuffling mass.

"He doesn't like you," the stubby human informed Luke in a surprisingly deep

voice.

"I'm sorry about that," Luke admitted, wishing heartily he were somewhere else.

"I don't like you either," the smiling little man went on with brotherly negativity.

"I said I was sorry about it."

Whether from the conversation it was having with the rodent-like creature or the

overdose of booze, the apartment house for wayward eyeballs was obviously growing

agitated. It leaned forward, almost toppling into Luke, and spewed a stream of

unintelligible gibberish at him. Luke felt the eyes of a crowd on him as he grew

increasingly more nervous.

"Sorry," the human mimicked derisively, clearly deep into his own cups. "Are

you insulting us? You just better watch yourself. We're all wanted." He

indicated his drunken companions. "I have the death sentence on me in twelve

different systems."

"I'll be careful, then," Luke muttered.
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updated Sun Oct 12, 2008
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