"Carol Emshwiller - Boys" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emshwiller Carol)

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We regroup. I say, "Fellow nipples and fellow pillows.тАж " Everybody laughs. "When have they ever
stopped men? Look how womanish the walls are. They'll crumble as we climb." I scrape at a part with
the tip of my cane. (As a colonel, I'm allowed to have a cane if I wish instead of a swagger stick.)

We're not sure if the women want to stop copulation day or boy gathering day. We hope it's the
latter.

Boost up the smallest boy with a rope on hooks. The rest of us follow.

I used to be that smallest boy. I always went first and highest. Times like this I was glad for my size. I
got medals for that. I don't wear any of them. I like playing at being one of the boys. Being small and
being a colonel is a good example for some. If they knew about my bum leg I'd be an even better
example of how far you can get with disabilities.



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We scale the walls and drop into the edges of a vegetable garden. We walk carefully around tomatoes
and strawberry plants, squash and beans. After that, raspberry bushes tear at our pants and untie our
high-tops as we go by. There's a row of barbed wire just beyond the raspberries. Easy to push down.

I feel sad that the women want to keep us out so badly. I wonder, does Una want me not to come?
Except they know we're as determined as mothers. At least I am when it comes to Una.



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Una has always been nice to me. I often wonder why she likes me. I can understand somebody liking me
now that I'm a colonel with silver on my epaulets, and a silver handled cane, but she liked me when I was
nothing but a runty boy. She's small, too. I always think Una and I fit together except for one thing, she's
beautiful.



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We swarm in, turn, each to our favorite place, the younger ones to what's left over, usually other young
ones. But then here we are, swarming back again, into their central square, the place with the well, and