12 Days of Sneeze (Superstitions), Day 8
Another short and sweet one. Though I am going to have a little bit more to say tomorrow...
“No way,” Ctirad said with a laugh, “Nobody's that stupid.”
“Ludmila and I saw it with our own eyes,” Dalimil said, before glancing over at his girlfriend, “Back me up, would you, Lída?”
Ludmila grinned and nodded. “It's true. Jarmil was convinced that he could treat the tree branch like a gymnast's bar. He reasoned that if he got a running start, he could grab onto it, then use the momentum to carry him into a spin. Even tipsy, we knew it was a bad idea, and tried to talk him out of it. He just took it as a challenge, and bet us 500 Koruna each that he could do it. Finally, we gave up and hoped for the best.”
“And what happened? I find it hard to believe he actually completed a spin. Did the branch break from his weight? Or did he get halfway over and then slam into the branch?”
“Neither,” Dalimil said, “He made the running jump, managed to grab onto the branch, and kicked his legs forward. But he was either too heavy or he lost his grip, because the next thing we knew, he was sailing forward, across the lawn, before landing in a heap near the fence. I'm not sure if he ended up colliding with it or not; it was getting dark, and I was too stunned to register if there was a loud thunk or not.”
“Was he ok?”
“He ended up with some bruises, but mostly he was fine. In this case, being drunk was apparently a blessing.”
Ctirad shook his head. “I'm still not sure I believe it. Jarmil likes to show off, but even drunk, I can't imagine he'd be willing to take that risk.”
Dalimil just smirked and raised his glass. “Where do you think I got the money to pay for this round of drinks?” he asked.
As he spoke, Ludmila, who was in the middle of drinking, abruptly set down her glass (briefly revealing a spot of white foam on her nose) and buried her face in the crook of her arm. “Hepciii!”
“Je to pravda,” Dalimil said, before looking triumphantly at Ctirad. “You see? Now you know we're telling the truth!”
Ctirad laughed and took a sip of his own drink. “Who am I to argue with that? Still, next time I see Jarmil, I'll ask him about it. I'd like to see if he's willing to admit it or not. And if he is, maybe he'll be able to explain what, if anything, made him think that was a good idea.”
From the Czech Republic: If someone sneezes during a conversation, then what was just said is a true fact.
“No way,” Ctirad said with a laugh, “Nobody's that stupid.”
“Ludmila and I saw it with our own eyes,” Dalimil said, before glancing over at his girlfriend, “Back me up, would you, Lída?”
Ludmila grinned and nodded. “It's true. Jarmil was convinced that he could treat the tree branch like a gymnast's bar. He reasoned that if he got a running start, he could grab onto it, then use the momentum to carry him into a spin. Even tipsy, we knew it was a bad idea, and tried to talk him out of it. He just took it as a challenge, and bet us 500 Koruna each that he could do it. Finally, we gave up and hoped for the best.”
“And what happened? I find it hard to believe he actually completed a spin. Did the branch break from his weight? Or did he get halfway over and then slam into the branch?”
“Neither,” Dalimil said, “He made the running jump, managed to grab onto the branch, and kicked his legs forward. But he was either too heavy or he lost his grip, because the next thing we knew, he was sailing forward, across the lawn, before landing in a heap near the fence. I'm not sure if he ended up colliding with it or not; it was getting dark, and I was too stunned to register if there was a loud thunk or not.”
“Was he ok?”
“He ended up with some bruises, but mostly he was fine. In this case, being drunk was apparently a blessing.”
Ctirad shook his head. “I'm still not sure I believe it. Jarmil likes to show off, but even drunk, I can't imagine he'd be willing to take that risk.”
Dalimil just smirked and raised his glass. “Where do you think I got the money to pay for this round of drinks?” he asked.
As he spoke, Ludmila, who was in the middle of drinking, abruptly set down her glass (briefly revealing a spot of white foam on her nose) and buried her face in the crook of her arm. “Hepciii!”
“Je to pravda,” Dalimil said, before looking triumphantly at Ctirad. “You see? Now you know we're telling the truth!”
Ctirad laughed and took a sip of his own drink. “Who am I to argue with that? Still, next time I see Jarmil, I'll ask him about it. I'd like to see if he's willing to admit it or not. And if he is, maybe he'll be able to explain what, if anything, made him think that was a good idea.”
From the Czech Republic: If someone sneezes during a conversation, then what was just said is a true fact.