"Ron Goulart - Looking Into It" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goulart Ron)


"She doesn't strike me as the kind of girl who'd enjoy standing around exchanging the names of old
streets in Cleveland."

"What I'm outlining, Gabbo, is only tentative. I need some kind of opening move."

"An ice breaker."

Phil nodded. "After we'd talked a little, I might say, 'How would you like to go to a noise club. Miss
Marcas?' "

"That's right, she likes to go to those new night spots that feature simulated earthquakes and volcano
eruptions and other loud explosions."

"She's an active, outgoing girl," said Phil. "Or I could invite her to the Laguna Honda Home when the old
retired rock singers are putting on one of their Senior Citizens' concerts. Since she likes Americana."

"The Americana thing may just be a cover."

Phil said, "I haven't worked the actual approach out. I'm only saying that knowing as much about Melissa
as I do, it will be easy to approach her."

"Oh, I agree that ..." A white bulb on Gabbo's black surface flashed. "Here's something for you." A panel
popped open and five pages of white paper flipped out. Gabbo caught the pages in a silver hand and
passed them to Phil. "New material for your act at Poppa Bopper's."

Phil frowned, turning the script pages quickly. "You don't write these jokes, do you?"

"No, there's a computer down in our Los Angeles office who does your material," explained Gabbo. "He
used to be in charge of monitoring the Mafia on the West Coast and he got to know a lot about show
business."


file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ron%20Goulart%20-%20Looking%20Into%20It.html (4 of 11) [10/16/2004 3:33:11 PM]
Looking Into It


"He may know the Mafia, but he doesn't know the kind of audience they get at Skin City," said Phil. He
began a sigh, cut it off, stood up. "I'll go into the rec lounge and memorize this."

The computer waved goodbye.




Phil decided he'd better start his bowtie revolving. "Well, that's enough about sports," he said to the
audience. "Boy did I come from a tough neighborhood."

"Blah blah," cried a curly-haired insurance man at a nearby table.