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

Co-op a bunch of ways, including ichorous. I may have exaggerated un petit peu,
but Rod Marquand is on the far side of ichorous, and I should know.

Suddenly, when I saw him standing there, I wondered how I was going to meet him.
I understood without even really thinking about it that it wasn't just a
coincidence-- Rod was here and we were going to have an exploit together, like
before at the center of the Earth, only this time would technically be the
first.

So I grabbed the nearest object -- it happened to be the Beatles' newly released
album Rubber Soul-- and I walked right up to him. My God, Bitsy, you know I've
never been shy around boys. I think it's one of the things they admire most
about me. That and my broadsword.

Well, I go, "Have you heard this album yet?"

Rod blinked at me-- oh, he was T.C.T.L.! Too cute to live, honey, just try to
stay with me -- and he goes, "It's their best so far, I think It's fab and
groovy."

I smiled a little at his antique slang, on him it was like real, real sweet. I
go, "I've heard some of it on the radio. What do you think 'Norwegian Wood'
really means?"

"It could be a code, you know," Rod goes. "An encryption of some enigmatic
message known only to the Beatles themselves and their innermost circle."

I sighed. "I wish I could be in that circle. I wish I could be Jane Asher." I
remembered that in 1966 I had a crush on Paul, the cute one.

"Well," goes Rod, "their music is really neat, but at the moment there are more
important things competing for my time and attention." As buf and tuf as Rod
Marquand is, he's more of a party vegetable, if you get my drift. Sometimes I
think he'd have to ask a girl to give him lessons before he could even be a
wallflower.

"I'd like to know what those things are," I go, smiling my never-miss dreamy
smile, Number Five at 75 % power.

"If I'm not being too forward," Rod goes, completely conquered, "I'd like to
invite you to have dinner with me at my residential college."

"What college are you in?"

"Branford," he goes, with an unspoken "of course" appended at the end.

It wasn't like a very long walk from the Co-op to the High Street entrance to
Branford College, but I mean! The wind had picked up and now rain mixed with
sleet had begun falling. I was damn glad I'd had the foresightfulness to buy the
ski jacket. Rod put his hand under my elbow, evidently believing he was doing