"Thomas M. Disch M - Descending" - читать интересную книгу автора (Disch Thomas M)

Descending
by Thomas M. Disch


Catsup, mustard, pickle, relish, mayonnaise, two kinds of salad dressing,
bacon grease, and a lemon. Oh yes, two trays of ice cubes. In the cupboard it
wasn't much better: jars and boxes of spices, flour, sugar, saltтАФand a box of
raisins!

An empty box of raisins.

Not even any coffee. Not even tea, which he hated. Nothing in the mailbox but
a bill from Underwood's: Unless we receive the arrears on your account.тАж

$4.75 in change jingled in his coat pocketтАФthe plunder of the Chianti bottle
he had promised himself never to break open. He was spared the unpleasantness
of having to sell his books. They had all been sold. The letter to Graham had
gone out a week ago. If his brother intended to send something this time, it
would have come by now.

тАФI should be desperate, he thought. тАФPerhaps I am.

He might have looked in the Times. But, no, that was too depressingтАФapplying
for jobs at $50 a week and being turned down. Not that he blamed them; he
wouldn't have hired himself himself. He had been a grasshopper for years. The
ants were on to his tricks.

He shaved without soap and brushed his shoes to a high polish. He whitened the
sepulchre of his unwashed torso with a fresh, starched shirt and chose his
somberest tie from the rack. He began to feel excited and expressed it,
characteristically, by appearing statuesquely, icily calm.

Descending the stairway to the first floor, he encountered Mrs. Beale, who was
pretending to sweep the well-swept floor of the entrance.

"Good afternoonтАФor I s'pose it's good morning for you, eh?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Beale."

"Your letter come?"

"Not yet."

"The first of the month isn't far off."

"Yes indeed, Mrs. Beale."

At the subway station he considered a moment before answering the attendant:
one token or two? Two, he decided. After all, he had no choice but to return
to his apartment. The first of the month was still a long way off.