"John Morressy - When Bertie Met Mary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morressy John)

tried to calm down a seven-ton blob of drunken protoplasm ?"
"Actually, no. But once, when I was an undergraduate at Oxford --" I began.
He silenced me with a brusque gesture. "Not the same thing. Too bad. Not only are you not a simpleton,
you're inexperienced."
I tried to direct the conversation away from my shortcomings. "Have you ever thought of relocating?"
"Funny you should mention that.... I think of it about twice a week, but every time I'm set to go, I
remember how it used to be and get all nostalgic. In the old days, the peasants and I got along beautifully.
They were simple people, content to work hard all week, dawn to dark, and amuse themselves with
Schuhplattler and yodeling on Sundays and an annual blast every October at the Burpenfeste. That was
before Rex ate the brewery.' He sighed and gazed wistfully out the window. "Life was good in those
days."
"It doesn't sound like much," I said.
"That shows what you know about schuhplattler and yodeling," Doctor Frankenstein said with acerbity.
"But it wasn't all we did. I used to give organ concerts on the first Tuesday of every month, laughing
maniacally as I played. They loved it. But when my voice gave out, they lost interest. Not much for
musical appreciation, these people, but they love maniacal laughter." He studied me thoughtfully. "Look,
you haven't got much to offer, but if you can do maniacal laughter, I'll take you on a trial basis."
"I'm afraid I can't help," I confessed.
He threw up his hands in disgust. "I can't find a worthwhile assistant. That's how all the trouble began,
with my assistants. Fritz was just a clown, but Igor upset the peasants with his practical jokes. Finally
they played one on him. They nailed him in a crate full of rocks and threw him in the river."
"You must find a better class of assistant."
"Yes, but I insist on a nice clean simpleton this time. I've had it up to here with idiots and lunatics. I have
a woman who comes in once a week to do the dusting, but she's useless as an assistant. She always
wants to give seconds on the intravenous. Why, one time I even caught her--"
"Doctor, there's no time for idle chat!" I broke in. "The mob will he here soon. You must think of a way
to escape and put this behind you."
"It's all taken care of Carnivorous blobs of protoplasm don't take up all my time." He struck a heroic
pose: jaw firmly set, eyes uplifted, arms thrust upward and outward. "I have built a spaceship, a gleaming
silver shaft of power to lift me to the stars! Come have a look."
He led me to the dungeon. In a large chamber on the far side of the root cellar stood his creation. Huge
rockets pointed toward the high vaulted ceiling, while the nose of the craft was aimed at the stone floor. I
sensed at once that something was amiss.
"It's pointing the wrong way," I said.
"The wrong way?"
"Down. It should point up," I said, indicating the proper direction by a common digital gesture:
"But then everyone would see. The whole idea is to slip away unnoticed."
"It makes for a rough start."
"I'll chance it. If anything goes wrong, I don't want a bunch of peasants saying, 'I told you so.' I couldn't
stand that."
"I don't think that will be a problem."
At that moment, a strange sound reached my ears. It reminded me of bubbles bursting in a vat of
molasses, or wet laundry being flung into mashed potatoes. Doctor Frankenstein affected not to hear.
The sound came again, louder.
"That noise, Doctor -- what can it be!" I cried in alarm.
He put his arm around my shoulder. "Nothing to worry about, buddy. Look, you'll never make it as a
simpleton, but what the heck, I like you. You're hired."
The noise grew louder. It seemed closer than before. "Shouldn't we discuss salary?" I asked.
"Trust me, I'm a doctor. You can start right away. Now. This minute."
"What are my duties?"