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

the yo-ho manly thing and helping me walk on the slippery pavement.

I simply shrugged away and smiled prettily and I go, "I'm so sure I can walk
just fine by myself, thanks. Like I've only been doing this since I was a baby
and everything."

He got a wounded puppy look on his face and maybe it was good for him. I told
myself that I couldn't really expect a 90s kind of guy in 1966, but then I
decided that it was never too soon to put somebody in touch with his real self.

We passed through the ironwork gate of Branford College, beneath the vasty,
shadowed heights of Harkness Tower and The World's Most Illegible Clock. It was
dinner time and I was ravenous. I hadn't eaten since twenty-seven years in the
future.

"It looks like salisbury steak and two veg," Rod goes.

"Oh, we have that all the time at the Greenberg School," I go.

He smiled down at me and goes, "Not the way they make it here. We've got
Jonathan Edwards' own recipe."

"Jonathan Edwards?" I thought he might have been a disk jockey on WABC-AM in the
mid-60s.

"'Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God! That Jonathan Edwards. There's another
residential college named after him across the way."

Like nothing makes salisbury steak, two veg, and chocolate milk go down better
than contemplating "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." I remembered
something about spiders dangling on thin strands of web above the hellfire.

The evening proceeded to get ever more weird and romantic from that point on.

We'd finished eating and Rod put one hand on mine. He gazed into my eyes and
goes, "Want some dessert?"

"I've told you that I'm a warrior-woman," I go. We'd gone through all that
during the walk from the Co-op. I'd unwrapped Old Betsy and given him a hot look
at my auric underwear. "I have to guard constantly against putting on weight,
but I suppose a serving of bread pudding and some more chocolate milk wouldn't
hurt me too much."

"Bread pudding?" Rod goes. "Why, that's my favorite dessert!" We just had so
much in common.

That led to a discussion of the codification of all types of bread pudding,
according to the official Ivy League definition. The chart looked something like
this:
YES NO