You know what, I'm gonna put the translated versions first and then the original paragraph of what really happened. This way, you can read the translations first and try to figure out what really happened, and then see how right or wrong you are.
Here goes:
Translated version #1 (After running my original paragraph through several languages with Google Translate):
Why hasn't one of my relatives loved me so much when we had so much fun and children? We ate our table very quickly, and we got a reply within five seconds, but I did or ate so much that we ate less than half an hour later while watching. Oh how beautiful! The time has come when he may exchange fivepence when he asks, because he was more than fivepence. And I extend it to meenie-miney-moe, so it always has to be "he" (so he has the power of blaming me but "I told him he always did. Enough). And when my mother and I recognized her that optical fiber had blinded me directly, he took hold of my hand and put his tinted eyebrows on me, like blood. And from time immemorial he was alarmed by his deafness, when he placed the Q-spot in his long ear, and I endeavored to listen to him, to close his right ear to see if he could hear me. It was mediocre, but he said nothing; I began to move my lips; I would say great things, although I could not, and I began to weep, lest he make me deaf. Oh what great serenity! I certainly don't understand why you don't love me so much.
Translated version #2
For some reason my brother doesn't like me very much, even though we only went to the funeral when we were kids ... only once, on a long family trip, I decided to run to see how our cup was eaten, very quickly I fell within five seconds but I seemed to have eaten and drank slowly for the next half hour while I was awake. So yes, for fun! Then I convinced myself that I had given my company less money than it was. But I want to be "him" (and then he gets angry and accuses me of doing his things all the time "but I told him how it always is. And it did.) blood in my ears, so I tried to hear her, which prevented her from hitting her ear to see if she could hurt me. Oh what a wonderful time! I don't know why you don't love me.
And the original paragraph:
For some strange reason, one of my brothers doesn’t like me very much, even though we had so much fun as kids ... like once, during a long car ride as a family, I challenged him to a race to see which of us could eat our candy bar the fastest, and he gobbled his down in five seconds but I only pretended to eat mine, and then I proceeded to slowly nibble mine for the next half-hour while he had to watch. Ah, so much fun! And then there's the time I convinced him to trade his dime for my nickel because the nickel was bigger. And I would stretch out eenie-meenie-miney-moe so that he always had to be “it” (and then he had the nerve to accuse me of always making him “it” but I told him that’s just how it always worked out and so it was fair). And then once, my mom and I convinced him that the eye doctor blinded me during a simple, out-patient procedure, and so he had to lead me around by the hand while I wore patches over my eyes that had ketchup smeared on them to look like blood. Oh, and then there was the time when he was terrified that he went deaf after he pushed a Q-tip into his ear too far, and so I tested his hearing by having him plug his good ear to see if he could hear me through his bad one, but instead of saying anything, I just started moving my lips like I was talking out loud even though I wasn’t, and he started to cry in fear that he made himself deaf. Ah, good times! Yeah, I just don’t understand why he doesn’t like me all that much.
