"Robert Rankin - The Greatest Show Off Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rankin Robert)

'But what I want to know,' his father continued from behind his paper, 'is why all the
bloody bad ones have to live in my street?'
The boy Raymond never caught this particular remark and so from that day to the
present, held fast to the belief that his bigoted git of a father had been a great humanitarian
But it wasn't helping now.
Raymond continued with the furtive peeping through his fingers. 'I really hate these
bastards,' he muttered beneath his breath.
The potato heads shuffled amongst the bubbles, consulting their auction lists,
pointing and nattering away to one another.
Raymond listened to them at it. English. They all spoke English. A group drew near
to his personal prison. Typical family, by the look of them. Mother, father and a brace of
kiddies. Little boy and little girl. Shell suits all. The Humpty Dumptys.
'What's this one?' asked the smallest of the hideous offspring, the daughter one.
Daddy Dumpty squinted at his auction list with black button eyes. 'Lot twenty-three.
Specimen of Earth life. Male.'
'Yuck,' went the daughter. 'Isn't he ugly?'
Ugly? Raymond chewed upon his lip but maintained a passive pose.
'Can we wake him up?' The other little spud began to bang at Raymond's bubble.
'I'd rather you didn't, if you don't mind.' Raymond knew that voice, although he could
not as yet see the speaker. It was the voice of Mr Chameleon, the silver sham with the
clipboard. 'A prime specimen, don't you think, sir?'
The potato heads nodded from the big bellies up. 'Very nice,' said Daddy Dumpty.
'Does he have a name?' asked the darling daughter.
'Yes. His name is George.'
Raymond ground his teeth.
'All Earth males are called George,' Mr Chameleon went on.
'Is it a tradition, or an old charter, or something?' Daddy asked.
'No. It's just because they're stupid.'
Raymond's teeth ground a mite harder.
'So, if all the Earth males are called George,' said Mrs Dumpty, 'what are all the
females called?'
'Mildred,' came the reply.
'Mummy, I want George,' said darling daughter.
'No, dear. We've come to buy a Klingon today.'
'But I want George. I don't want a Klingon. I must have George.' Raymond watched
the brat's face contort and the little feet began to stamp.
'How much do you think George will fetch?' asked Daddy Dumpty.
'Let me have a look.' And now Raymond could see Mr Chameleon, who had stepped
into his line of vision. And lo, he was a potato head also. And a short one at that.
He leafed through papers on his clipboard with a stubby little finger. 'The reserve
price is five pounds, sir,' he said.
Five pounds? With considerable difficulty Raymond kept his rage in check. Five
pounds? Of course, the Venusian fiver was probably not the same as the Earth fiver. It was
probably worth much much more. Bound to be. Had to be.
'Five pounds?' Daddy Dumpty shook himself. His daughter was turning purple, while
repeating the phrase, 'I must have George,' again and again in a higher and higher register.
'Of course you must, dear. Please calm down.'
'Then I can have George?'
'Well. ..'
'See the fine young physique, sir,' said Mr Chameleon. 'This specimen is in excellent