"Steve Perry - Just Ask" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Steven)

fries with that?" but, "Fries? What are fries?" Even pictures on the buttons
wouldn't be enough. Doomed.

The manager, a woman of sixty with hair dyed the color of a palomino horse's
mane and thirty pounds too much weight, all of it below her waist, shook her
head. She'd never heard anything like it, either. "What exactly is it you want
us to do, Mr. -- ah -- ?"

"Sewall. Sam Sewall. The paint is guaranteed for fifteen years, isn't it?"

"Well, yes . . ."

"Then if it evaporates off in five minutes, something is wrong with it. I want
it replaced."

"Replaced."

"Right. I'll swap you my twelve gallons of unopened paint for twelve new
gallons."

She shrugged. "All right. I guess we can do that."

"Some freak chemical thing?" Hathorne said.

"Yep," Sam said.

"Must be pretty rare."

Sam refilled the airless sprayer with another thick dollop of the heavy latex
paint, screwed the lid back on. Got paint all over his hands. "Nah, it happens
all the time, people at Sears said. Mostly with earth tones."

Hathorne glared at him. "I didn't make the board policy, Sewall."

"Yeah, but you help enforce it. The Board doesn't even have a color wheel we
can
choose from. It's all inside your minds, you should pardon the expression."

"We know what's right. You want a purple house with pink spots, go live in
Eugene with all the other old hippies."

Sam didn't speak to that. He flexed his right index finger. It was getting
sore,
having to hold the sprayer's trigger down all this time.

Good morning!" Sam said as he strolled into the kitchen. He felt so good he
had
already showered and shaved and gotten dressed in his paint-spattered
overalls.
He should be able to finish the sides and most of the back of the house today,