"Mel Gilden - Zoot Marlow 2 - Hawaiian UFO Aliens" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gilden Mel)

upтАФjust to show he could do it, I supposeтАФand walked over to stand behind the counter. He was
shaped like a bowling pin. Walking to the counter must have been quite a workout.
'OK. I'm here now. Are you a citizen?' He glared at my nose, which, truth to tell, is most of my face.
'The sign doesn't say anything about being a citizen.'
'No, but you'll need a birth certificate anyway, to make sure you're over eighteen.'
'Of course I'm over eighteen. Don't let my good looks fool you.'
'No?'
'No. When I was a kid, I had a little accident involving toxic waste and a bottle of nose drops.'
'Yeah?'
'Yeah. It could happen to anybody.' I speared him with my best stare. 'It could happen to you.'
The guy wearing the knit hat guffawed once, then caught himself. The guy at the counter almost
looked over his shoulder at him, but didn't quite.
'You have a birth certificate?'
I took the folded document from my coat pocket, unfolded it on the counter, and waited. I'd done my
homework, and I thought I was ready for this guy. Him and anybody else in that room, singly or in
combinations. If homework were enough.
He looked at the document, turned it around, turned it over. He studied me instead of the paper and
said, 'I hope this isn't a gag. The state of California wouldn't like it.'
I was ready. I knew he wouldn't be able to make head or tail of the document, because on T'toom,
never having seen written English, we still used the letters of the local written language, which was called
Gomkrix. But it really was my birth certificate. I'd just had to fiddle with the date and place of birth a
little.
I said, 'No gag. It's my birth certificate from the Bay City Hospital.'
'It's not in English.'
'Show me where it says the certificate has to be in English.'
 He took the document and talked to one of the other clerks. They buzzed to themselves while poking
the document and watching me. I got tired of it, and went to look out the window. The rain was so fine, it
was almost mist. I could see Bill's dark shape inside the Chevy.
'Sir?' it sounded as if the word hurt him to say it.
I went back to the counter and the guy said, 'OK. Let's go through this an item at a time.' I spent the
next twenty minutes explaining my birth certificate to him, making up facts to match what was written
there. I didn't lie any more than I had to.
When we were done, he looked like a man with a bad taste in his mouth, but he gave me the written
driving test anyway. He was not very happy when I passed, but we went outside and I drove him around
the block while he made marks on a printed sheet on a clipboard. Bill sat in the back seat, thank Durf,
not saying anything. I must have passed the driving test too, because when we got back into the building,
the guy took my thumb print, my picture, and forty-two dollars.
As he was writing up my temporary licence, he said, 'If you're from Bay City, then I must be the
Martian.'
'Could be,' I said, shrugging. 'I've never seen a Martian.' Which was also not a lie, despite Orson
Welles. I picked up the temporary licence and my birth certificate. The guy watched me walk out the
door and hustle across the parking lot to the Chevy. Maybe he expected the Chevy to turn into a flying
saucer and take off.
If he wanted to see a flying saucer, he shouldn't have been watching me. He should have been
watching the news.



CHAPTER 2
BEADS AND TRINKETS