"Harvey Jacobs - Blood is not Enough - L'Chaim" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jacobs Harvey)

"I thought about my choice, Jim. And don't you know, I found myself
thinking of a future special occasion. That is, I had a wine in mind but I
decided to save it. Do we ever change? I realized that I'd already learned
my lesson. No more waiting."

"Good. Live for the moment, Delmore."
 "It's not only that. I was displaying selfishness. Frankly, Jim, I don't
much enjoy this club. But it has become my family. It would be wrong to
hold back on the membership. They demand the best one can offer."

"Then give it to them. There's always another bottle of wine. Think
positively, Delmore. At this very moment, somewhere, new grapes are
maturing. Maybe this will be a vintage year."

"I'm glad you share my feelings. Jim, you've had ten marvelous years."

"Because of you, Delmore. More than I could have expected of a
lifetime."

"Yes. And the best thing is, you know it. You appreciate. So many of
the youth are indifferent."

"I do appreciate."

Delmore reached over to embrace James Guard. The young man
hugged him. They had never touched like that. Delmore felt a delicious
warmth that reminded him of other embraces. He began to weep even as
he cut the young man's throat with a quick slash of his silver pocket knife.
Blood erupted from the violated neck. Delmore clapped his hands sharply.
Zachary came toward them with the decanter but the waiter took forever.
Delmore could not abide waste on such a scale.

"Hurry, hurry, for God's sake," Delmore yelled. "It is a minute to
midnight. And what we have here is vintage 1955. December of 1955."

"Did you actually find a '55?" said one of the Tentacles. "A December?"

"I did," Delmore said. "I've kept it for a decade."

"This must be a very special occasion," the member said.

Zachary filled the decanter and corked the wound in James Guard's
quivering corpse. Glasses were passed to the Tentacles who came to
surround Delmore's chair.

"Actually," Delmore said, "it is just another birthday. Not a thousandth
or ten thousandth. Just a birthday."

"Cheers," said Zachary, pouring fresh blood. "To Mr. Grobit."
 "Drink hearty," Delmore said.