"Effinger, George Alec - Maureen Birnbaum 03 - Maureen Birnbaum at the Looming Awfulness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Effinger George Alec)

Rod's adorable face suddenly went like all serious, you know? "I can't say for
sure. The first was just a scrap, with the words Cthulhu fhtagn written on it.
This 'Cthulhu' has been mentioned again and again. I don't know what it means."

I shuddered, even in the bright warmth of the Branford dining hall. "Cthulhu
fhtagn," I go, all thoughtful. "It sounds Gaelic to me, not Arabic."

"It's neither," Rod goes.

"Maybe," I go, shivering again, "maybe it's the long-dead language of those
scaly, unclean squid-headed creatures."

Rod didn't even respond to that notion. "Then there were all the references to
the Sunken City of R'lyeh, and some blasphemous, horrible fertility goddess
called Shub-Niggurath. And pages and pages of drawings and scraps of
incomprehensible poetry and . . . warnings."

I'll confess, Bitsy, my stomach started to hurt. "Listen, Rod," I go, "why don't
we forget about Cthulhu tonight and just go see Michael Caine in Alfie. It's
showing at the College for a buck and a half."

"Yes," he goes, folding the photocopy paper and tucking it into an inside pocket
of his sport coat. "I'm not going to let some minor-league mentality get the
better of me. I'm just going to ignore the entire business."

"Fine," I go. "Let's boogie."

"Let's . . . what?"

I stood up and he got up, too. "I'll let you carry my broadsword. I never let
just anybody do that, you know."

We had a nice time at the movie, although Michael Caine's character was like
this pig. Afterward, we went someplace for a light supper, and Rod installed me
in the Hotel Taft. I shuddered alone in my bed, imagining that I could hear the
helpless shrieks of my overpowered sisters as they were assaulted by tentacled
fiends from R'lyeh wearing blue J. Press blazers and gray slacks.

I had fallen fast asleep, and believe me, Bitsy, my dreams were populated by
obscene monsters that spoke in a Cockney accent. When my phone rang, I sat
upright, terrified. I didn't know where I was or what time it was or anything. I
answered the phone, sure that I was going to hear nothing but whistling,
blubbery monster noises.

Instead, Rod goes, "Maureen? I hope I didn't wake you up."

It was one-thirty in the morning. "No, don't worry about it. I was just like
sleeping."

"Good. Now, listen closely. When I returned to my rooms, I discovered several