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

Presently the end came off Raymond's pickaxe and nearly took his eye out. He flung
aside the shaft and sank to his knees in the dirt. Simon dropped down beside him.
'How are you on screaming for help?' Raymond asked, when he'd got back some of
his breath.
'Help! screamed Simon.
'Pretty good,' said Raymond. 'Heeeeeeelllp!'

The sun was just beginning to dip behind the fine old meadow oaks that bordered the
allotments, and hoarseness of the throat was taking its toll of the 'help' screamers, when
Simon had an idea.
'We could light a fire,' said he in the voice of Louis Armstrong. 'Stack stuff up against
this invisible wall and set it ablaze. Melt our way out.'
'Do you think that would work?'
'Have you ever heard of Euclid's fifth proposition?'
'No,' said Raymond. 'Nor do I wish to hear of it now.'
'We could burn that old pickaxe handle. What else do you have?' Raymond cast a
troubled eye towards his nice wooden hut.

They got a really decent blaze going. They stood back and admired it. They warmed their
hands by it and they poked at it with sticks. They threw things onto it and they generally
behaved in that childish irresponsible manner that all men do when they have a bonfire.
'Do you think it's starting to melt yet?' Raymond asked at length.
'Bound to be.' Simon fanned at his face and took to a fit of coughing. 'There's an
awful lot of smoke,' he observed.
 'An awful lot.' Raymond joined in with the coughing. 'I say. Look up there.'
'Up where?'
'Up there.' Raymond pointed towards the vertical.
The smoke was gathering thickly and not too distantly above.
'I think I am beginning to suffocate,' said Simon.
'Stamp out the fire!' croaked Raymond.
The smoke hung captive in the great big transparent and seemingly impenetrable
dome that enclosed the better part of Raymond's allotment patch. Raymond sat upon the half a
bag of solid cement, on the little concrete rectangle where, until so recently, his nice wooden
hut used to stand. Simon sat beside him. Both were growing somewhat short of breath.
'I don't want to be an alarmist,' said Raymond, 'but unless help comes really soon, I
think we are going to die.'
Simon glowered into the concrete. 'This is all your fault. I should never have come
here tonight.'
'My fault? I like that. I was quietly digging my hole and minding my own business
until you turned up. It is you that has brought this thing upon us. I'll bet you have fallen out
with Mr Hilsavise, whom many believe to be in league with the devil.'
'I have not.' Simon dabbed at his nose, which was starting to run. 'I don't want to die,'
he complained. 'I am young and handsome and I paid a fortune for these teeth.'
'You and your damned teeth,' said Raymond.
'Dental hygiene is very important. You'll be all gums by the time you're thirty.'
'I shall never see twenty-four unless I get out of here. You couldn't see your way clear
to chewing our way out I suppose.'
Simon rose to take a dizzy swing at Raymond. 'You schmuck,' said he, lapsing from
consciousness.
Raymond sat and hugged at his knees. This really was all too upsetting. The evening,