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

which had started out so well for him, had turned into the stuff of nightmare. It looked as if he
was actually going to die.
Raymond had never given death so much as a second thought. And it now occurred to
him that this might have been something of an oversight on his part. Had he stored up any
riches in heaven? he wondered. Would the good Lord smile favourably upon him? Had he
been a 'good' person? He was certain he'd never really been a bad person. But was that
enough? Was it for him the choirs celestial or would he be despatched to join the screaming
sinners of Siberia? If he was, he would certainly keep his eyes open for any sign of a dangling
microphone.
Raymond's head began to spin and his thoughts began to get all jumbled about. He
climbed unsteadily to his feet and stumbled about clutching at his throat and gasping for air.
And then he tripped over his spade and fell flat on his face.
And then, in that final desperate moment. He had an idea.

The sun was almost gone behind the fine old meadow oaks now and the moon was climbing
up to take its place. The birds of the allotments called good night to one another, as they
swung in wary arcs around the big grey smoke-filled dome that smelled of fish. And as
silence fell with darkness and the stars began to light up, there came a stirring of the earth. A
mole perhaps?
Not a foot from the edge of the big grey smoke-filled dome, a clump of soil rose up
and fell aside. And the polished head of Raymond's spade broke the surface.
There followed then a scrabbling and a struggling, a hand, an arm, a shoulder and a
head. Raymond breathed in the good fresh air and dragged himself out to safety. His body left
the hole with a sound not unlike that of a cork being drawn from a bottle. The night air rushed
down his tunnel and flooded into the terrible dome. Raymond didn't waste a lot of time.
Minutes later he and Simon lay side by side staring up at freedom's sky. Well,
Raymond was staring up at it. Simon was still out for the count.
'Phew,' said Raymond, 'Phew indeed.' He shook Simon roughly by the shoulder.
'Phew eh?'
Simon stirred fitfully. 'Unhand me, Mr Hilsavise,' he mumbled.
 'It's not what you think. I hardly know your daughter.'
'Scoundrel,' said Raymond cuffing his chum.
'Aaah, oow ... oh.' Simon came awake. 'I think I'm going to be sick,' said he.
'You are saved,' Raymond told him. 'What do you think of that?'
Simon threw up all over the place.
'Some thanks,' said Raymond.
And then.
'Congratulations, Earthman,' came a voice from on high. 'You have passed the test.'
Raymond turned his eyes once more towards the heavens and, to his horror, saw that
a goodly portion of the sky was now filled by something quite unsettling. An enormous star-
shaped something. It was bulbous and bloated. Tiny coloured globes twinkled about five
monstrous appendages. Light pulsed from an unwholesome middle section, all flesh-flaps and
chewing mouthparts. A fishy fug, that would have challenged the fortitude of a seasoned
Grimsby trawlerman, cloaked the allotment air in a healthless miasma.
Simon took the opportunity to throw up once again.
Raymond clamped his hands over his nose and did shallow-breathing exercises.
'I am Abdullah,' declared the star-shaped something. 'I represent The Divine Council
of Cosmic Superfolk. And I am pleased to tell you that you have passed the initiative test set
by his magnificence, The Sultan of Uranus.'
'I've chucked up all down my front.' Simon plucked at his shirt. 'That smell. That