"Mel Gilden - Zoot Marlow 3 - Tubular Android Superheroes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gilden Mel)

shouted at each other angrily and waved sheets of paper in each other's faces like revolutionary flags.
Dress was the usual casual affair: bathing suits, sandals, T-shirts advertising brewski and surfboards. I
recognized most of the people; they lived up and down Pacific Coast HighwayтАФwhat passed for
neighbors in Malibu. The surfers were out there too and more excited than I'd seen them since somebody
had tickled their surf-bots with a sledgehammer.
"What are they doing?" Zamp said. I had no idea. There was nothing like it on T'toom. I said,
"Sports."
 "This can't be baseball, I doesn't sound like this on the radio. Maybe it has something to do with us."
That was wishful thinking. Nobody was paying us any mind. I walked up to a blond woman who was
wearing a bathing suit made from three tiny blue flags and asked her what all the hubbub was about.
She glared at me for a moment as if deciding whether or not to bite off my head. "Just look," she said,
and shoved a white sheet of paper into my face. I took it and saw a neatly typed letter from a guy named
Max Toodemax. It said:
Dear Renter,
As you know, both property taxes and property values are soaring here in
Malibu. Because of this, I find that it is no longer financially practical to rent
single-family dwellings.
These single-family dwellings will soon be replaced by high-density
condominiums. You will be the first to be offered an opportunity to purchase one.
Therefore, the Gramarcy and Mills Demolition Company will soon begin
demolishing your house. The law requires that I inform you one month in advance.
You may consider this your one and only notice.
Best wishes, Max Toodemax, owner
"What does it say?" Zamp said.
"It says that any minute now you and me and all these nice people will be sucking sidewalk." I handed
the paper back to the woman.
Whipper Will climbed onto something and raised his arms over his head. He said, "Hey, dudes. This
hip-hop really has me dissed, dogged, and drilled, just like you. I mean, this is one grotty fall."
"Is that English?" Zamp whispered to me. "We gotta, like, organize," Whipper Will said. "Tell 'em,
bro!" somebody shouted. I think it was Captain Hook, the surfer most likely to shout.
"But we need a plan, man. We gotta get our stuff wired."
"I nominate Whipper Will," a woman cried. Somebody else called out his name and soon it was a
chant. Whipper Will just looked perplexed. He waved his hands at the crowd as if testing the softness of
a bed. The lights on PCH changed twice before the crowd got quiet enough for Whipper Will to speak.
"No way, dudes. Somebody had to throw down the rap about getting our stuff wired. I volunteered
to rap, but I'm no kahuna. You'll need somebody more gnarly than me before you're done." Whipper
Will stepped down and the crowd began to grumble to itself again.
Whipper Will and Bingo walked to the door followed by the other surfers. When Whipper Will saw
me, he smiled as if he were selling teeth and cried, "Cowabunga!" He grabbed me and danced me around
while the other surfers pounded any part of me they could reach. I was conscious of Grampa Zamp
standing nearby wondering if I was being attacked. "How they hanging, Zoot?" Thumper said. We were
attracting attention, so instead of answering I said, "I'll tell you about it inside," and kind of backed away
from Whipper Will, hoping he and the others would follow me.
"What's this?" Captain Hook said. He hooked a thumb in Grampa Zamp's direction.
"He's with me," I said, making Captain Hook laugh. I kept moving, and pretty soon I'd attracted all
the surfers into the living room with the front door shut against the crowd still festering outside. Nobody
sat down, but just looked at me and Zamp as if we were what we areтАФa little bit unusual, a little bit
not-of-this-Earth.
I said, "Tough times."
 "Grotty for sure," Bingo said.