"Robert Rankin - Snuff Fiction" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robert Rankin)

typical child, the boy Doveston played host to a wide variety of vermin, from the aforementioned nits, to
body lice, gut worm, trouser roach and plimsoll maggot. Blowflies feasted on the juices of his eyes and
aphids dined upon his ear wax.
But this was the way of it. We knew no different. We were unconcerned and we were happy. The
boy Doveston was happy. He grinned and he whistled -- a popular tune of the day, breathed out in
unrecognizable fragments, for it is almost impossible to grin and whistle at the same time.
The boy Doveston, having shuffled across the quadrangle, now shuffled under the veranda and into
the school building. Our class-room was 4a and within it we were enjoying a history lesson. Mr Vaux
stood before the blackboard, a piece of chalk in one hand and a Capstan's Full Strength in the other, and
spoke to us of Damiens' Bed of Steel.
Robert-Franчois Damiens had in 1757 made an attempt upon the life of Louis XV. As a punishment
for this and to discourage any other potential regicides, he had been brutally tortured to death. They had
placed him upon an iron bedstead affair that was warmed to red hot. His right hand was roasted on a
slow fire. Molten lead and wax were poured into wounds that were infficted upon him by special pincers
and he was eventually torn into pieces by four wild horses.
It was all very interesting and Mr Vaux evidently knew his subject well, judging by the graphic
descriptions he gave of each particular torment. And it certainly served as an object lesson to any of us
who harboured the ambition to become an assassin when we grew up: that we should plan our getaways
with the utmost care!
The lesson was almost over by the time the boy Doveston entered the classroom, which was a
shame because he had missed all the best bits. I know he would have enjoyed the part when Mr Vaux
held his finger over a candle flame to demonstrate just how much pain a man can take before he screams
really loud. I know I did. And while most of the soppy girls were quietly weeping and that softy Paul
Mason had fainted, the boy Doveston would certainly have been the first to put up his hand when Mr
Vaux asked who amongst us would like to sniff the burned flesh of his finger.
But as it was he missed it and as it was he entered without knock-ing first.
Mr Vaux swung around from the blackboard and pointed his charred digit at the boy. `Out!' cried
he, in outrage and in such a raised voice that Paul, awaking from his faint, was caused to faint once more.
The boy went out again and knocked. `Come,' called Mr Vaux. The boy came in.
Our teacher laid his chalk aside and sought instead his slipper. He looked the boy both up and down
and shook his head in sadness. And then he glanced up at the classroom clock and made tut-tutting
sounds.
`Two-twenty-three,' said Mr Vaux. `You have excelled yourself this time, Doveston.'
The boy scuffed his unpolished shoes on the floor. `I'm truly sorry, sir,' he said.
`A laudable sentiment,' said Mr Vaux. `And one which makes the violence I am about to visit upon
your backside with my slipper purely symbolic. Kindly bend over the desk.'
`Ah,' said the boy. `I think not.'
`Think not?' Mr Vaux's moustachios bristled as only moustachios can. `Over the desk at once, my
lad, and learn the errors of dissent.'
`The headmistress says that you are not to beat me for being late, sir.
`Oh,' said our teacher, making a dramatic flourish with his slipper.
`You have received a dispensation from on high. Possibly you are to atone for your sins in some
other fashion. Or is it a case of venia necessitati datur?'*
It was always a pleasure to hear Mr Vaux spout Latin. But as the subject was not taught in our
school, we never had the foggiest idea what he was on about.
`It is the case, sir, that I had to go to the police station.'
`O joyous day,' said Mr Vaux. `And so at last you are to be taken off to Approved School and I
shall be spared the onerous and thank-less task of teaching you. Hasten then to clear your desk and take
your leave at the hurry-up.'
`No, sir. I had to go to the police station because I witnessed a crime and helped to bring the