"Yvonne Navarro - I Know What to Do2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Navarro Yvonne)

thing, even bigger than I remembered, with sharp mandibles sticking out from
each side of its head -- maybe it wasn't a cockroach at all, but some kind of
beetle. No wonder the bug spray hadn't worked; this sucker looked tough. I
leaned closer and almost gagged. There was some kind of translucent egg sac
tucked under its rear end; tiny black things pulsed inside.
Gross, I thought. Let the sewers handle it. I knew I'd have to do it quick or
I'd lose my nerve; the thought of those babies twitching around with only a
few
layers of paper between them and my fingers made my balls shrink up. But I
couldn't leave it on the floor and go after the dustpan -- if Maggie saw that
egg sac she'd go nuts.
I reached for it.
It ran.
Towards me.
Memories rocketed through my mind: a hand full of fire; Chanci squirming on
the
floor in agony; the grainy feel of tearing dog flesh as the tongs did their
work.
"Aaarrghh!" My legs went out from under me and my rump hit the floor hard,
boots
kicking furiously. The left one, thank God, connected and knocked it back a
foot
or so; the beetle-thing darted under the bathtub.
"What're you doing in there?"
The sounds from the hall had changed. Chanci's protests had softened to
whimpers; I heard Maggie's slippers make small slapping sounds and clambered
to
my feet and hit the toilet handle before she came around the door. "Did you
kill
it?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to squelch the shakes that were working through my
hands.
"I flushed it down the toilet."
"That's good," she said almost cheerfully as she turned away. "I hope we
don't
get any more of those nasty things."
Jesus, I thought. What am I going to do?



The dog was okay, though she stopped sticking her face into the bathroom. Her
nose was a little shredded, but like my finger there was no permanet damage.
The
way she looked at me after we finished dabbing at her snoze with peroxide, it
was like a kinship. We both knew what it felt like to have something try and
eat
you, and it had nothing to do with sex either.
Saturday and Sunday are Maggie's days to sleep late, since she gets up with
me
at five during the week. I'm an early riser even on the weekends, generally