【推荐1】Once upon a time, there were lots of monkeys in the deep forest. Monkey Kiki had many brothers and sisters. That was good, because Kiki had many monkeys to play with. But Kiki wanted to catch the eye of other monkeys, too. That was hard to do with so many monkeys around.

One day Kiki played a joke on other monkeys. “Leopard!” Kiki cried. “A Leopard is coming!” Other monkeys frightenedly climbed up to the highest trees. Leopards like to eat monkeys.

Kiki laughed. “Ha! Just kidding,” he said. Kiki’s Aunt Ama shouted at him. “Kiki, nobody trusts (相信) the monkey who is not honest.” Kiki felt bad for a little while. But a few days later, he did it again.

“Leopard!” Kiki cried. “A Leopard is coming!” The monkeys cried again. Kiki laughed. “Ha! Just joking again,” he said. Aunt Ama shook her head. “Be careful, Kiki. Nobody will believe you if you keep this up.” The monkeys were all angry with Kiki. Kiki sat in a tree, bored and lonely.

Then he saw something on the ground below. A hungry-looking leopard padded across the rain forest floor towards the monkeys. “Leopard! A leopard is coming for real this time!” Kiki shouted. None of the monkeys cared about it. The leopard was beaded right for them. Kiki knew what he had to do.

“Here, leopard! Come here!” he yelled. Kiki climbed up to the highest tree. The leopard ran after Kiki. The other monkeys now saw the leopard and they climbed into the trees, too. The leopard could not climb as high as the monkeys. She gave up and walked away.

Kiki was relaxed. The other monkeys were glad that Kiki had tried to rescue them. They played with him again. And Kiki never played jokes on others.

【推荐2】Don’t Judge a Book by Its Cover

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved reading crime and detective (侦探) novels, so I guess it was pretty normal that I started writing them when I was older. However, my family is very big on having a traditional career   (职业)   and so when I said that I wanted to go to college and study writing, my parents told me that I couldn’t. They told me that I had to study for a degree so that I would achieve a career, and not something as risky as writing. I suppose I could have studied journalism (新闻) ,but I didn’t want to lose interest in writing because it would be something I would do every day for work, not for pleasure. I thought that teaching looked like a pretty good compromise (妥协 ) , especially because of the long holidays. It was a good choice: by the time I was twenty-five，I’d already finished two novels and had an agent.To be honest, I never meant to keep my being a crime writer a secret or anything, and my friends have always known. One of the reasons most people don’t know is because my agent told me that my name Hazel sounded too much like a romance   (浪漫)   novelist for older women. She suggested Brooke Lane and I thought, “Well, if you think it’ll make me successful, okay,” I’d totally forgotten about it until I walked into school one day and saw one of my workmates reading my novel. I asked her some questions about it, and it was so clear that she had no idea that I’d written it - she even offered to lend it to me after she’d finished!   Of course, sometimes I wonder what my students would think if they knew that their teacher was going home on the weekend to write about murders and dead bodies, but I think my parents probably did me a favor: my teaching job keeps me in touch with the real world.

When a waitress discovered what had happened, she felt really sorry for him and wanted to give him a hand.

So the next morning when he was out taking a walk in the garden, she put a nail on the wall exactly where the fly had stayed.

Now the old man entered his room. The smell of the split wine reminded him of the accident. When he looked up at the wall, he found the fly was there again! He walked to it carefully and hit it with all his strength.

On hearing a loud cry, the waitress rushed in. To her great surprise, the poor man was there sitting on the floor, his face was pale and a lot of blood was running on his right hand.

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