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

,,Who, dear?"

"Innocent bystanders. Hello, Georges plural, G and K? Are you there? Purji, do
you see anything that might belong to two tall men?"

"No, Everything I've found so far seems to go with you," Tenderly she wiped the
Camembert from his bruised brow difficult, as his head kept melting to soft,
grayish Jell-0. "What an awful-have I come at a bad time?"

"You? Never," the head assured her, "but you're not catching me at my best,"

"I thought for a moment that ghastly mess on the walls-"

"Farewell the salmon and caviar," Coyul gathered himself for the effort, "This
will be difficult," His mind, stunned and reeling inside a human cranium,
couldn't do anything right at first. He managed a form that might have been
rendered by a child with a blunt crayon, but the results kept melting to a mish-
mash of flickering light and gelatinous matter, For a moment he realized an
eerie resemblance to John Kennedy but couldn't hold it,

"Closer," Purji encouraged, "Keep going."

"Keep talking," he moaned, "All I hear is a dull bong,"

With a clearing mind, Coyul gradually reconstituted himself. A golden blob
resolved to his favorite lama; dressing gown and filled out with familiar
proportions. Amorphous features resolved to character and expression, Pallid,
shaken, but restored-something like Dylan Thomas in his later yearsCoyul sat up
and smiled at Purji

"There's my darling,"

"Purji! It's been eons, Where's your ship?"

"Out there in matter phase," She gestured blithely between kisses,

"Let me look at you," Definitely worth the effort, still bleary as his sight
was. Beside Purji's idealized Keljian form, the best Miss Universe was a victim
of birth defect. One might imagine the sensuality of a Joan Collins superimposed
on Mariel Hemingway and the result raised to the tenth power of femininity.
In a swaddling choir robe and with a Bible in her hand, Purji would still be
outlawed in most American states.

"Dazzling as ever, you erotic triumph," Coyul vowed. "I last saw you-when?"

The memory was dear to Purji, undimmed by eons. "At home, the radical students'
demonstration, remember? All of us showing off, making love in human form, and
so bad at it."

"Like polar bears in a Charleston contest;" Coyul recalled, "But what fun it