"Jim Munroe - Flyboy Action Figure Comes With Gas Mask" - читать интересную книгу автора (Munroe Jim) "Fuck You, Mr. Man."
I stared at her. "Never heard of it, eh?" "Oh! That's the name! I thought I was being too nosy." She laughed. "It's funny we didn't get that reaction more often, but we were well known in the hardcore scene." "Like hardcore punk rock?" She nodded. "What happened on tour?" I asked, thrilled to have her ear for so long. I had the uncanny sensation of being the shy guy in the movie, who, because of a disaster or an alien invasion or some other happy circumstance, is trapped with a beautiful girl in a diner or an abandoned cinema. They pass the time by telling each other stories, dancing to old jukebox tunes, and necking. Then Frank shuffled in and ruined it all. He pulled his Maple Leafs toque off his pink head and despite my mental command of *counter, counter, counter,* he took a table. Coot. The stool squeaked when she stood. My plate glinted greasily under the lights, as a good diner plate should, and I tilted my head slightly to see if the things about the future. The man held up a jar with a label reading "Bug Cemetery." It even had a little gravestone on it. Ken laughed and whispered, "This guy is great. He's so *deep* about the whole thing." I nodded and smiled, but I was a bit annoyed. It was definitely catering to children, and I had called ahead to make sure it wasn't going to be a kiddie thing. But Ken and I were the only attendees whose feet weren't dangling, and the territory he was going over was very familiar to me. "They have a tiny kingdom of their own, these little critters, so don't think you own them. They might bring back an army of their friends and attack you some day!" The man's face was pouchy but quite lively, and his little talk was better than average. It was funny (well, eight- year-old funny) and taught that the insect world was to be marvelled at, not just observed. Ken was watching the kids in the audience, mostly. Making faces at one of them. I was |
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