"Godwin, Parke - Snake Oil 02 - The Snake Oil Wars, or Scheherazade Ginsberg Strikes Again (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Godwin Parker)

And cut to Cathy Cataton again; "Candor was only the beginning. The riot broke
out in earnest when Coyul matter of factly explained, or tried to explain, the
essential fact of what he termed an anthropological experiment gone wrong-"

Coyul again, visibly aware of laboring in a lost cause. "You're not finished.
Not nearly finished. You're not the center of a Battering myth, but let me help
you."

"KILLLLL HIMMMM-"

The cameras caught a forward surge through the audience, like tall grass lashed
by a high wind. Acres of people rising, stampeding down on the mild little
figure in front of the mi. crophones, The tidal wave of moral outrage converged
on the podium, engulfing Coyul as he simply vanished and Cataton's voice-over
ended the segment. " `Trouble right here in River City.' The confrontation
brewing for years between radical and conservative religious viewpoints here in
Topside seems to have come to a head in Coyul, thought by many to be the Devil.
How long his authority will be accepted, if at all, is up for guesses."

Below Stairs in the Sports Bar, the New York editor tried to hedge his lost bet
with Arnold Rothstein, "Okay, I go Topside, All the way across that dead-ass
Void. But no getting Born Again; that's not part of the bet."

The Brain was a gracious winner. "Just so I can see you on camera"

"Hey, Mr, Rothstein." Legs the bartender turned up the TV sound, still tuned to
Cathy Cataton, "Get this."

". repeat the last item just in, A few minutes ago, Lance Candor, who challenged
Coyul in the Megachurch, hurled a bomb into Coyul's office-"

Rothstein's lip curled. "And they call this hell,"



"-completely destroying the new appointee's salon, Coyul himself and two guests.
Candor has not yet been apprehended and Fundamentalists throughout Topside are
cheering his action,"

The Brain turned to his drinking companion, "Do I win or do I win?"

"Yeah, yeah." The vanquished editor communed with the bottom of his glass.
"Beats me how you could call it so close,"

"Son," said the wise old Brain, "it is a lead pipe cinch you do not hail from
Kansas," He tapped his empty glass on the bar. "Legs? One more time, no ice."


Hazards of terminal patriotism; enter a blonde