"Robert Rankin - The Witches Of Chiswick" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rankin Robert)

as it was, by twentieth-century DIY enthusiasts the world over as тАЬThe
Timber of the GodsтАЭ, тАЬThe CarpenterтАЩs FriendтАЭ, тАЬThe Wood That Won The
WestтАЭ, and many other such appellations.
You didnтАЩt see a lot of it about on this day beyond tomorrow, what with
there being so few trees left to cut down and hew. Two-by-one was hard to
find, although, in truth there were very few now who actually went
searching.
WillтАЩs father, William Starling senior, occupied a more orthodox sit-upon:
it was Post Christian Orthodox, of the IKEA persuasion. WillтАЩs father was a
part-time lay preacher to the Church of IKEA (IKEA having brought out the
Christian franchise some fifty years before).
WillтАЩs mother did not share her husbandтАЩs faith; she remained true to
the church she had grown up with. She was a Sister of SalisburyтАЩs. Her
seating was a family heirloom: a white plastic garden sofa, dating from the
age of private gardens, and a collectorтАЩs item in itself, should the age of
the collector, or indeed the private garden, ever return. The sofaтАЩs sidearms
had been cut away to afford admittance to her broad posterior. WillтАЩs mum
was a very substantial woman.
But for these items of seatery, the breakfasting area was, as all other
breakfasting areas in the housing tower were, bright and orange. Just the
way that the future had been promised to be, in a time before it was.
тАЬYouтАЩll need to put on your chem-proofs, Will,тАЭ said WillтАЩs mum,
swallowing a fried eggette (a synthetic egg, packed with goodness and
minerals) and scooping up another with her spoon. тАЬAnd your weather
dome. Coffee, husband?тАЭ She proffered the plastic pot.
тАЬAs it comes,тАЭ replied her spouse, urging another sausage into his
mouth, тАЬthatтАЩs the way I like it.тАЭ He smiled winningly towards his son.
тАЬTake heed of what your mother says,тАЭ said he, as he chewed. тАЬUpon this
occasion she isnтАЩt talking twaddle.тАЭ
тАЬI certainly will,тАЭ said the son of Starling. тАЬI never, ever take risks.тАЭ This,
however, was a lie. Will did take risks. Will thrived upon risks. Sadly for
Will, the opportunities to take risks rarely arose, but when they did, he was
always ready and willing.
WillтАЩs father reached across the breakfasting area and placed a mighty
hand upon the forearm of his son. тАЬYou are a good lad, Will,тАЭ he said. тАЬYou
make your mother and me proud of you. We care about you, you know that,
donтАЩt you?тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩve never had cause to doubt it,тАЭ Will eased his arm from beneath the
pressure of his paterтАЩs portly palm, тАЬexcept upon one or two occasions, such
as the time that you tried to sell me to Count Otto BlackтАЩs Circus
Fantastique because you needed money to buy Mum a new wig.тАЭ
тАЬA God-feeling woman can never have too many wigs,тАЭ said WillтАЩs mum,
downing another fried eggette.
тАЬItтАЩs God-fearing,тАЭ said her husband, helping himself to yet another
sausage. тАЬBut your motherтАЩs right, Will. Do you recall the time that your
Aunt May was caught wigless at the wedding of a tribal chieftain? That
reflected very poorly on the family.тАЭ
тАЬYes, but trying to sell me to a freak show тАжтАЭ
тАЬA Carnival of Curiosities,тАЭ said WillтАЩs mum, downing yet another
eggette. тАЬAn Odyssey of Oddities. A Burlesque of the Bizarre. AтАФтАЭ