When Mr. Ear is embarrassed, nervous or angry, his big ears will snap together with the emotion, just like the electrocardiogram output by the ECG machine. His ears are the instant predictors of his mood, and whenever his friends see his flexible ears moving around unconsciously, they know that Mr. Ear is in a moment of mood swings, and they consciously avoid having trouble with him.

The reason why Mr. Ear is called Mr. Ear is probably already known to you - as mentioned earlier.

One day, Mr. Ear worked overtime, and by the time he got off work, it was already dark. Mr. Ear sorted out his papers, cleaned up the garbage, turned off the lights, locked his office, and went downstairs to go home.

He walked up the street, almost nervously leaning forward on the steps of the shops on the inside of the street. He never walks on the edge of the street, and no one can let him do that, because the edge of the street is close to the road, and there are cars coming and going on the road, and the whizzing cars will raise a lot of dust, and the dust will not only stain the clothes, but also invade the skin, enter the body, and damage health.

Not only that, but if one day a crazy truck driver has to drive his truck on a rampage on the road, it is possible that he will hit the street. If there is such a day (and it is not uncommon, he said), it is dangerous for people to walk on the edge of the street. Yes, that's what he said, and the words of caution poured out of his mouth like instructions for safe use of electricity, and his ears kept moving as he spoke.

When he was almost home, his rumbling stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten dinner yet. He walked into a restaurant and asked for a fried rice. While waiting for dinner, he sat at the dining table, his eyes scanning the passing cars on the road outside, to the passengers waiting on the platform across the road.

A bus stopped in front of the platform to pick up passengers, and then drove away, leaving behind a plume of black smoke that slowly dispersed and blurred the figures of passengers on the platform. A woman is holding a child who is licking ice cream in a mouthful of black smoke. Mr. Ear's ears twitched a few times, and he complained that the woman was not paying attention to the hygiene of her little children. And next to the mother and son, a couple hugged each other, imitating the way the little child licked ice cream, kissing mischievously. Seeing this, Mr. Ear's ears trembled.

When Mr. Ear was depressed, a waiter interrupted him. As the waiter spoke, two large buckteeth peeked out of his lips, like a rake hoe thrown out of the door in a farming tool storage room. She said: "Hey, the kitchen master misheard, you made your fried rice into a set of rice, you can eat a set of rice, the set of rice is a little more expensive, you add a few extra dollars!" ”

Mr. Ear was disgusted and said unceremoniously, "Mind me, of course I do." ”

The waiter went to talk back to the chef in frustration. The muscly chef leaned against the kitchen door frame and held a long spoon in his hand as if holding one. Hearing the waiter's reply, he spat at the kitchen door and turned around and went into the kitchen with a blank face.

Mr. Ear came back to his senses and stared back at the people on the platform, still indignant. Suddenly, as if there were stones in an empty tin can, he chuckled in his heart - just now he had clearly seen the cook spit at the kitchen door. If such an unhygienic and low-quality chef had been unhappy with his refusal and spat on his fried rice, wouldn't he have eaten it without knowing it. Disastrous! Mr. Ear was sick like a cockroach swallowed raw. Just then, the waiter brought his fried rice.

Mr. Ear held the spoon in his hand, looked at the food in front of him, and didn't know whether to eat it or not. At this moment, the cook came out of the kitchen, untied his apron and threw it on a table by the kitchen door, and sat down to drink tea slowly. Mr. Ear secretly glanced at the chef drinking tea a few times, and comforted himself: This rough man will not be stingy enough to do such a lack of morality! He scooped up a spoonful of rice and examined it carefully—to see if it was thin and watery, and if so, it was mixed with saliva. He looked at a spoonful of rice for half a minute, and finally put it in his mouth. He chewed it and swallowed it in one gulp. The swallowing motion was disgusting and difficult, and he felt less like he was swallowing, but like a slimy little toad crawling down his throat and struggling to crawl into his stomach. Finally, he swallowed, relieved, but with palpitations. At this moment, the chef, who was drinking tea, put down his teacup, craned his neck, and let out a "cough...... ......" sound, followed by a mouthful of thick phlegm spat on the ground. Mr. Ear was shocked, and the spoon in his hand fell on the plate. He quickly stood up, paid, and walked out of the restaurant without stopping.

When he got home, he went straight to the bathroom and retched down the toilet. He vomited for a long time, but he didn't vomit anything, just kept spitting into the toilet, because he didn't eat dinner at all. After vomiting, he rinsed his mouth, bathed, and collapsed on the bed exhausted.



The next day, Mr. Ear woke up on time, washed up and went to work. Because of his disgust for last night's dinner, he didn't even eat breakfast. It took him a morning to digest the nausea from yesterday's dinner. At noon, colleagues stopped what they were doing and went to lunch one after another. A colleague who knew him well invited him to lunch, and he wanted to refuse, but thinking that he was indeed hungry, he went to the restaurant together.

At the dinner table, Mr. Ear, who usually talks endlessly, is silent today. A colleague asked Mr. Ear, "What's wrong, Ear?" Isn't that usually quite talkative? ”

"No appetite."

"Oh, it's disgusting. How did these cooks do it, there was a hair in the soup. As he spoke, the colleague used his chopsticks to pick out a short one-inch hair from the soup bowl.

Mr. Ear choked at once—he had taken a few sips of the soup. Thinking back to last night's dinner, his eyes widened, his lips slightly open, and his ears fluttered like uncontrolled propellers. He was sick again. He grabbed his throat and stood up, leaving the table and going to the bathroom without stopping. For his actions, colleagues are only puzzled except for strangeness.

"Did I do anything to make him angry?" The colleague said to the others.

"Who knows!" Others say.

In this case, they put aside this mystery and continued to bury their heads in eating.

Mr. Ear returned to his office and drank two large glasses of water to dilute the few mouthfuls of soup in his stomach that had soaked the cook's hair, but that didn't dispel his nausea and concern. He began to suspect that the food in the restaurant must be much dirtier than it seemed. There are dozens of cooks in the restaurant, who can guarantee that none of them have sneezed on the food, who can guarantee that none of them have infectious diseases, who can guarantee that none of them throw dirty things into the food with resentment against the boss, and who can guarantee that they are not lazy and ignore ......the hygiene of the food? Thinking of all this, Mr. Ear was not only nauseous, but also frightened, and a cold sweat broke out on his back. He thought again, he had been eating in the restaurant for more than two years, and oh my God, how much dirt had gotten into his stomach. Ah, no, my stomach hurts. After eating so much dirty things, the body must be extremely bad. Thinking about it, Mr. Ear's stomach hurt like a knife, and his ears seemed to be angry, and he couldn't move.

Mr. Ear was in pain, he clutched his aching stomach and asked his colleagues to help him take a leave of absence, and he was going to have a check-up. With that, he walked out of the office with his stomach in his hands, like a pregnant praying mantis. Looking at his painful appearance, his colleagues naturally felt strange and puzzled.

In the consultation room, Mr. Ear asked the doctor to wash his stomach, and he wanted to wash out all the dirt in his stomach.

The doctor, a kind old man, looked at his nervous expression and asked him, "Did you accidentally eat rat poison or what?" ”

"There's hair in the soup I'm drinking."

"Oh! It's just that the hair fell out of the soup. ”

"Doctor, how can you be so indifferent, this is not a trivial matter, I have eaten in that restaurant for two years, think about how much dirty stuff I have eaten in the past two years."

"Okay, I'll prescribe you some medicine to clear the intestines and detoxify!"

"That's it?" Mr. Ear was amazed at how the doctor could be so perfunctory.

"Questions?"

"I'm very sick, my stomach hurts so much, how can you be so hasty." Mr. Ear was angry, and his ears trembled again.

The doctor looked at him with a smirk and gave the prescription to Mr. Ear.

Mr. Ear took the medicine with the prescription, took a dose immediately, and sat in the hospital corridor and breathed the smell of disinfectant water for a long time before leaving the hospital.

Out of the hospital, he was listlessly walking down the street when he suddenly collided with a man.

"Hey, ears, I haven't seen you for a long time, I've seen you from afar, and I can't hear you." The man patted Mr. Ear on the shoulder.

"Long time no see!" Mr. Ear grinned and rubbed his stomach when he was hit by his friend, and then rubbed his shoulder on the shoulder, which had been slapped hard by his friend.

"What's wrong with you, I won't shoot you apart in a few clicks! Come on, toy baby, why are you still so squeamish! Let's go, let's find a place to talk. ”

So my friend took Mr. Ear into a café. After the two of them sat down, the waiter asked them to order. My friend and Mr. Ear each ordered a different coffee. After the waiter left, his friend began to talk about him with great interest, and Mr. Ear made a gesture of listening, but he was thinking about the disgusting things that he couldn't be sure of existing.

"Ears, what are you doing? Resurrected! ”

"Huh?" When Mr. Ear came back to his senses, he saw the waiter smiling beside him, but the coffee was not served. "Where did you just go?"

"What did I say where? The waiter said to make your coffee the same as mine, and asked if you would mind drinking the kind of coffee I ordered. Said a friend.

As soon as he said this, Mr. Ear's ears trembled unconsciously, and he recalled yesterday's terrible dinner, and his stomach was hot and he vomited on the coffee table.