"Laura Resnick - Fluff the Tragic Dragon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Laura)

Naturally, I went to investigate -- "
"Naturally?" I snapped. "In a building with no doorman and a front door
lock that wouldn't keep out a determined three year old? In a dank basement
where no one could hear you if you screamed for help? What's wrong with you
people who keep investigating strange noises? You _deserve_ to be eaten by a
dragon!"
"My God, you're vindictive," he said critically. "How long have you
know it's there?"
"I _didn't..." _ I stopped myself. "Tell me what you saw that makes you
think there's dragon down there."
I'll spare you the histrionics. He peeked under the stairs and saw the
rusty iron door that Mrs. Pearl had carelessly left open after her little
t├кte-├а-t├кte with St. George's old foe. Unfortunately, his description of the
dragon living behind that door matched hers perfectly.
"Of course, everyone knows what dragons look like," I said rationally,
"so your mind naturally filled in the details it thought you should perceive."
"Come down and have a look," he challenged.
"Oh... My feet hurt."
"Ah-hah! You're afraid!"
Me, afraid? What was there to be afraid of?
"We could be murdered by some lunatic with a warped sense of humor. We
could be eaten by an alligator -- I've heard they're spawning in the sewers.
We could be run down by some kind of city-operated subterranean vehicle. We
could stumble upon a secret crack laboratory." I was still enumerating all the
things I was afraid of when we reached the door to the basement.
Mrs. Pearl and all the other tenants were standing there, peering
fearfully down the stairwell.
"Hey, man," said Ricardo, the bongo player who lived on the top floor.
"Do you know there's, like, a stinking, fat, hairy, dragon in the basement?"
"I thought he was scaly," I said repressively.
"You've seen him before?" Mr. Rivman demanded. "How long have you known
he was in the basement, young lady?"
"_Santa Maria_," cried Mrs. Castrucci, crossing herself fervently. "The
beast, he could have eaten us at any time. And you say nothing about it?"
"I _didn't_ know... Why am I trying to deny there's a dragon in the
basement?" I said in defeat. "This is crazy."
"Hey, man," said Ricardo. "This is New York. _Anything_ could be down
there."
"So let's call the police," said Fumiko, the sociology student who
lived in the studio apartment at street level. She shivered. "It gives me the
creeps to think of that thing being down there."
"We should call exterminators," said Mrs. Pearl.
"We should call the stinking, fat, hairy landlord," said Ricardo.
"If we ask him to deal with it, we'll be waiting till the Second
Coming," Arnaud said acidly.
"I say we call the police!" said Mr. Rivman.
"We must call a priest!" cried Mrs. Castrucci.
"Hey, man, this ain't no exorcism."
"I say we call the papers," said Arnaud, with an expression that
suggested he had thought of a way to turn this into a human interest story for