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

So l was all set to hear that the condo association had raised its quarterly
fee, or that Josh was being sued by someone allergic to cotton swabs, or some
damn weird thing. What Josh told me, though, I wasn't prepared for at all.

He gave me that puny smile again and goes, "Betsy, I'm desperately in love with
my receptionist, Candi Ann, and I can't live without her and I'm leaving you for
her and you and Malachi Bret have four weeks to find someplace else to live."

That was the moment I knew Mums' assessment of Josh had been right all along. He
was scum or even lower than scum, whatever that might be.

I smiled back at Josh and Igo, "No, huh."

I've learned a little bit about being a tough, '90s kind of gal from my friend,
Muffy. She, of course, was my long-ago-and-f ar-away best friend from high
school, Maureen Danielle Birnbaum. For sure, she absolutely hates being called
Muffy these days -- though she thought it was like pretty neat when those
Andover and Exeter guys called her that. I tell her, I go, "If you keep calling
me Bitsy when I want to be called Elizabeth, you just got to expect the same in
return." I just laid it out for her.

Actually, like the only important differences in our status is that my folks
have more money than hers, and Muffy has a broadsword and I don't, you know?

So you got to let me explain about the broadsword. See, a while back, for some
crazy reason I mostly fail to believe, Muffy like transported herself
spaceshipless to the Planet Mars, where she fought battles and won the undying
love and respect of a cashingly handsome prince and his benchlings.

Ever since, she's been trying to return to Mars and Prince Van, but although she
manages to transport just fine, it's like she has no control over the
destination. It seems to make no difference, because she always ends up
someplace exciting, and she has way rode adventures, and she always comes back
here to regale and annoy me with her stories.

Well, after Josh's lame announcement, I went over to stay with Mums and Daddy
for a while. I sure couldn't stay in the condo with my faithless former
ever-loving soulmate. And I took Malachi Bret with me. He was four years old
now, and he just loved to color in the wall space around Mums' electrical
outlets. I must admit that I thought he showed a certain de Chirico flair, but
the effect was totally lost on Mums.

Anyway, I was lying on the bed in my old room. I was watching a "Geraldo" show
about how blind people are struggling to deal with the designated driver
concept. For some reason I thought this was the most tragic thing I'd ever heard
of, and I couldn't stop crying. I had a box of Kleenex by one hand and a
half-pound bag of malted milk balls by the other. Mums' cat, Loathing, was
asleep on my feet. Her mate, Fear, was sitting on the TV, his fluffy tail
hanging down in front of Geraldo's face. Mums swears that both of them hate the
anthropocentrist word "cat," and prefer to be called "feline-Americans."