Wolfe’s Woofers: Language

Saturday, June 9th, 2018

At the beachside bar where we play darts Mario and I took practice shots while we waited for Vernon and Juan. Juan came in looking completely worn out.
“Man, this making a living is hard work,” he said. “It was hot out there pouring cement today.”
“You work too hard,” Mario said. “People say money can’t buy happiness.”
“It can if you use the money to buy beer,” Juan told him. “I’m going to the bar to buy some happiness right now.”
Juan returned from the bar with a round of happiness for us and we sat at one of the tables. A tourist passing by on the beach walked up to where we sat.
“Sprichst du Deutsch?” he asked.
Mario said, “Huh?”
“He’s speaking German,” I said. “He wants to know if we speak German. I know the phrase but I don’t speak the language.”
I shook my head and said, “Sorry.”
“Parli italiano?”
“I think he said Italian,” Mario said. “No. We don’t talk Italian.”
“Est-ce que tu parles français?”
“That almost sounded like Spanish,” Juan said.
“It was French,” I told him, “but none of us speak French, either.”
The man was persistent.
“Taler tu dansk?” he asked.
When we shook our heads, he gave up and walked away.
To Juan and Mario, I said, “Maybe we should learn another language.”
“I don’t see why,” Mario said. “That guy spoke four of them and it didn’t do him any good.”

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