"Richard Kadrey - Butcher Bird" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kadrey Richard)

 тАЬYouтАЩre only saying that тАЩcause thatтАЩs how they talk about it in movies. You ever known anyone
who was crucified? Or even heard of one? Hell no. Maybe being crucified is great. Maybe itтАЩs a
fucking hoot. Maybe itтАЩs a blow job and ice cream on your birthday.тАЭ Lulu took out another Marlboro
Light and lit it with a pink fur Zippo. тАЬKnow what would really suck? Being force fed a bucket full of
black widows.тАЭ
Spyder made a face, half frown and half smile. тАЬJesus, girl,тАЭ he said. тАЬYouтАЩre upping the ante on
me.тАЭ
It was the end of another day at the tattoo studio and piercing parlor Spyder and Lulu ran
together. Spyder did the ink while Lulu handled the metal. It was a pleasant business. It let them
both pretend to be artists while making money and getting a lot of tail on the side. Rubi, for
instance, had been one of LuluтАЩs earliest and most regular customers.
тАЬSheтАЩs got about five pounds of me on her at all times,тАЭ Lulu liked to tell friends.
Rubi brought back their drinks and set them on the bar. тАЬWhat time you getting off tonight?тАЭ
asked Lulu.
тАЬEarly,тАЭ said Rubi. тАЬтАЩBout an hour.тАЭ
тАЬSweet.тАЭ
тАЬBeing eaten alive, Night of the Living Dead-style,тАЭ said Spyder.
Lulu turned to him. тАЬYou mind? WeтАЩre having a moment here.тАЭ
тАЬWait, better than that,тАЭ Spyder went on. тАЬBeing starved to death, but given topical anesthetic
and surgical equipment, so the only way you could stay aliveтАЩd be to amputate your own limbs and
eat them.тАЭ
Rubi said, тАЬYou two ought to get married. Move into the Bates Motel.тАЭ She went down the bar to
serve other customers.
тАЬNow you ruined our surprise,тАЭ Spyder called after her.
Lulu took a long pull on her tequila. тАЬFlayed alive and drowned in pickle brine.тАЭ
Spyder looked at his hands. The back of one was covered in an intricate black tribal snake
pattern while the other hand sported a cartoon red sacred heart. MANS RUIN was tattooed
across the knuckles of both hands. HeтАЩd gotten the letters while doing a year in reform school for
car theft. They were bullshit tats. Kid stuff. But they marked a period of his life, so he never
bothered to have them lasered off. From his neck to the tops of his feet, Spyder Lee was an
explosion of images and pigments. HeтАЩd never felt normal until heтАЩd been tattooed for the first
time. The ink felt like some kind of magic armor. His tattoos, even the stupid ones, made him feel
bulletproof.
He was one of those lanky Texas boys you see working on cars in oil-stained driveways, a
cooler full of Coors, his only concession to the summer heat. A perpetually messy mop of black
hair and long arms covered in grease working on the transmission of a vintage Mustang of
questionable ownership.
тАЬSplit open, your organs torn out with hooks and replaced with red hot coals,тАЭ he said.
Lulu leaned in close. тАЬStrapped to the front of a burning boat and driven through a mile and a half
of electrified razorwire in a Tabasco sauce hurricane.тАЭ
They both broke up in drunken laughter, spitting and slamming their hands on the bar.
тАЬYouтАЩre both wrong,тАЭ said a woman sitting to SpyderтАЩs right. He and Lulu turned to look at the
woman. She was small, with fine features and the smooth grace of a dancer. The woman was
drinking red wine and wearing sunglasses. In her right hand she held a white cane, the sort used
by the blind.
Lulu called over SpyderтАЩs shoulder, тАЬOkay Ray Charles, whatтАЩs the worst way to die?тАЭ
The woman finished her wine and stood up. тАЬTo be betrayed by the one you love.тАЭ
She turned on her heels and, swinging her cane in small arcs in front of her, pushed her way
through the crowd and out of the bar.
Spyder watched the door as it closed behind the woman. Lulu took a drag off her Marlboro.