41 posts tagged with "Absurd"

Old Liu had worked at the zoo for thirty years, and his job was to clean the tiger enclosure. It wasn't a job that required much skill; it was just dirty and smelly. But Old Liu liked this kind of simple, direct work. Staring at the tigers all day was easier than dealing with people.

Recently, the zoo came up with an "innovation" and started selling tiger urine. They said that tourists were curious and wanted to buy it to "ward off evil." Old Liu thought it was absurd, but the director said it could generate revenue, and there was nothing shameful about it. So, in addition to cleaning the tiger enclosure, Old Liu had to collect tiger urine.

Old Wang wasn't an ordinary electrician. He was afraid of heights, afraid of sparks, afraid of electrical leaks, and even afraid of falling off utility poles—even just the thought of it. This was a well-known joke among his colleagues, who secretly called him "King Rat." But Old Wang became the most sought-after electrician in the area.

Not because he overcame his fear, but quite the opposite, because of his fear.

Old Wang stared at himself carefully in the mirror. The face in the mirror was yellow, as if it had just been pulled out of a dye vat, but not a pure yellow, rather a strange color mixed with specks of orange, like the flesh of a low-quality tangerine. He reached out and touched his cheek, feeling that his skin seemed rougher than before, with a sandy texture, like sandpaper.

Today was the third day of Old Wang's "color change."

Old Wang is back in society. No, to be precise, he's back in high school.

He used to be an excellent firefighter, rushing into burning buildings to save lives was routine for him. But after that one big fire, Old Wang’s "brain was fried," and his intellectual level regressed to childhood. After a long recovery, doctors were delighted to announce that Old Wang had recovered to the level of a high school student.

Old Wang stood in front of the company's lottery machine once again, feeling complicated. This was the third time this month, and the one hundred and twenty-seventh time he had participated in the lottery since joining the company ten years ago. Inside the machine's glass cover, colorful cards floated like a school of trapped fish, interspersed with a few glittering "grand prize cards."

"You see, isn't this height perfect?" the doctor said with a smile, pointing to the X-ray image. On the image, in the middle of my shin bone, there was a steel rod, like a scar that stretched across.

I stared at the steel rod. It wasn't perfect, it was even a bit ugly. But in the doctor's eyes, it represented the height I had dreamed of, the height accepted by society.

The train jolted violently, and the screeching sound of the brakes cut through the heavy air. A mechanical, calm female voice came over the loudspeaker: "Passengers, train D3014 has made an emergency stop due to hitting an unidentified object. Please be patient while our staff addresses the situation."

Wang Ming sighed and put down his newspaper. This was the third time this month the train had stopped due to an "unidentified object." The first time, it hit a plastic bag; the second, a torn raincoat; and now, it was an "unidentified object." He rubbed his temples, the view outside the window was a monotonous grey, matching his mood.

Before retiring, Old Wang rented a safety deposit box at a bank and put all of his family's heirloom gold and silver into it. He always felt uneasy keeping these items at home, believing it was more secure in the bank. He carefully read the safekeeping contract three times; the bank's seal was a vivid red, and his name was neatly written as the depositor.

Master Li had been working at "Old Chengdu" hot pot restaurant for seven years, making him a veteran. His expertise wasn't in stir-frying spices, but in recognizing angelica. The angelica used in the restaurant was all hand-picked by him. He said that good angelica has a special fragrance, and smelling it for a long time can calm your heart.

He was responsible for the miscellaneous tasks in the back kitchen. His daily job was to spread out bundles of angelica, pick out the ones with poor appearance, and then slice them according to the standard and dry them. When slicing angelica, he was always very serious, as if he were sculpting a work of art. At this time, he would always hum the songs he loved to sing when he was young, songs he learned when he was a soldier. He had long forgotten the lyrics, but the tune was imprinted in his bones.

Li Ming, a programmer toiling away at a software company in Beijing, found his greatest pleasure each evening before bed in scrolling through the "international ledger" – a spontaneous "account reconciliation" activity organized by netizens from different countries that had sprung up seemingly out of nowhere. This "reconciliation" was essentially a group of people from various nations posting their daily expenses on digital payment platforms and "cross-checking" with each other.

Initially, everyone was just having fun, comparing spending levels in different countries. But gradually, it evolved into something of a ritual. Li Ming looked forward to seeing the daily statement of "John," an American netizen. John's statements were always peculiar. One day he'd buy a $3.99 bag of "air," and the next he'd spend $25 on a virtual hat in some virtual space.