"Christopher Moore - The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore Christopher)

"The only man I ever loved died."
"I'm sorry," Theo said.
"Me too." She drained her cup of wine.
"Easy on that, Estelle. It doesn't help."
"I'm not a drinker. I just had to get out of the house."
There was some shouting over by the pool table. "My presence is
required," Theo said. "Excuse me." He made his way through the crowd to where
two men were squaring off to fight.
Estelle signaled Mavis for a refill and turned to watch Theo try to make
peace. Catfish Jefferson sang a sad song about a mean old woman doing him
wrong. That's me, Estelle thought. A mean old worthless woman.

Self-medication was working by midnight. Most of the customers at the
Slug had given in and started clapping and wailing along with Catfish's Blues.
Quite a few had given up and gone home. By closing time, there were only five
people left in the Slug and Mavis was cackling over a drawer full of money.
Catfish Jefferson put down his National steel guitar and picked up the
two-gallon pickle jar that held his tips. Dollar bills spilled over the top,
change skated in the bottom, and here and there in the middle fives and tens
struggled for air. There was even a twenty down there, and Catfish dug in
after it like a kid going for a Cracker Jack prize. He carried the jar to the
bar and plopped down next to Estelle, who was gloriously, eloquently crocked.
"Hey, baby," Catfish said. "You like the Blues?"
Estelle searched the air for the source of the question, as if it might
have come from a moth spiraling around one of the lights behind the bar. Her
gaze finally settled on the Bluesman and she said, "You're very good. I was
going to leave, but I liked the music."
"Well, you done stayed now," Catfish said. "Look at this." He shook the
money jar. "I got me upward o' two hundred dollar here, and that mean old
woman owe me least that much too. What you say we take a pint and my guitar
and go down to the beach, have us a party?"
"I'd better get home," Estelle said. "I have to paint in the morning."
"You a painter? I never knowed me a painter. What you say we go down to
the beach and watch us a sunrise?"
"Wrong coast," Estelle said. "The sun comes up over the mountains."
Catfish laughed. "See, you done saved me a heap of waiting already. Let's
you and me go down to the beach."
"No, I can't."
"It 'cause I'm Black, ain't it?"
"No."
"'Cause I'm old, right?"
"No."
"'Cause I'm bald. You don't like old bald men, right?"
"No," Estelle said.
"'Cause I'm a musician. You heard we irresponsible?"
"No."
"'Cause I'm hung like a bull, right?"
"No!" Estelle said.
Catfish laughed again. "Well, you wouldn't mind spreadin that one around
town just the same, would you?"