"Barry Longyear - Circusworld 2 - Elephant song" - читать интересную книгу автора (Longyear Barry)

"Ming! Ming!" The elephant slowed to a trot, then to a walk. "Tut, babe! Put me down, honey."

The huge beast shuddered and then lowered her head, depositing the boss elephant man upon the
grass. Her head lifted and she stood, snorting and shaking her head. "Good girl. Good girl."

The voices again. Louder. Feet running through the grass. Bullhook opened his eyis And looked at
the clear, blue sky. Parade weather. Damn, but it's a beautiful day. Packy Dern's face came into
view as the bullhand knelt and quickly examined the boss elephant man. Bullhook felt something
placed beneath his head and pressure being applied to his left leg. Other hands; other faces.
Waco, Dot the Pot, Madman, Pony Red, Moll...

Packy's face looked at him and smiled. "Whatcha been up to, Bullhook?"

"A little this; a little that.''

Bullhook felt a needle being poked into his arm. Packy nodded. "Well, it sure looks like it was
fun."

"You know what they say, Packy... life with the circus is just one long uninterrupted dee-light."
\

The blue sky grew black, Packy's face faded, and the sharp jags and angles of pain smoothed into a
calm night sea of slow ' motions and soft sounds.

There was more touching against his body, dim voices, a bullhand singing "Elephant Kindergarten"
to her pachyderm. That's Kirn's voice. That's right, honey. The car crashed, I don't know where in
the hell we are, no one will ever find us, don't know where our next meal is coming from, but calm
down. Some things are still the same. I'm still here, and mule up still means trot....

And life? It's the same as its always been: life with the circus is just one long uninterrupted


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dee-light.

Yowzuh! Yowzuh!

Step right up and feast your little bug-eyes on the wonderous monsters from the planet Earth!
Peruse the ponderous pachydermsтАФ

тАФThat's what I said, sir, or madam, or thing, as the case may be. PachydermsтАФ

тАФ'Cause that's what they're called, sonny.

One quarter credit, a mere twenty-five percent of a one note will admit you to feast your eyes,
bulbs, sensors, or whatever the hell it is you useтАФ