"Spider Robinson - Admiral Bob" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

An' he took out his ax an' begun to blow.
An' my Lords an' my Ladies, ahmo hip you: you may have heard all kinda jam
sessions blowin' off, you may have heard New Orleans licks, you may have heard it
Chicago Style, you may have the bebop version, you may have dug all kind of
musical insane flips, but you studs an' stallions an' cats an' kitties never dug any
session like this cat blew! He wailed so hard, they had to send out for the wig
tappers: everybody flipped their wig, an' it took all night to get 'em nailed back down
againтАФpeople walkin' round with the eyes buggin' out, aakin' each other, "Where do
we go to surrender?"
An' when the last lick faded, of Heavy John fix Bob with the gimlet eyeball that
turned so many sidemen to sushi, an' everybody get real quiet, an' Heavy John frown
like a storm comin' off the water, an' he say:
"What are your orders, sir?"
Everybody flipped!
Admiral Bob had a miracle wig: he could work that miracle lick any time he took a
notion. After he'd been blowin' over across the tracks awhile, they had to move the
tracks, 'cause the trains couldn't get through the people. Cat put a man on the Moon
with his own two hands, picked up plutonium in a pair of waldos, gave orgasms to
computers, told a lie that was three thousand years Long, capital L, put a rap on the
U.S. Congress ... an' in his spare time, he thought up the water bed! Admiral Bob
shot craps with the Devil four times, an' won three. An' if that ain't heavy enough, dig
this, Jack: he kept the same chick smilin' for forty years!
He come from Squaresville, had a general for a brother, but he could love like his
buddycat Teddy the Fish. Come from the Navy, but every boat he wrote had chicks
on the bridgeтАФan' the chicks wore pants. Come on like an atheist, but when the
freezer cats wanted to put his frame on ice, he said, "How do I know it wouldn't
interfere with rebirth?" an' sent 'em away frameless an' bugged. Come on like a tight
cat with a shekel, but he had his ear open, an' any time a skiffy cat or kitty was
scoffless an' hung, he straightened 'em, quiet an' cool. He was a sci-ence cat, but he
could write a poem. He was a hip square. He was a cool straight. He was a saintly
old stud you didn't want to mess with.
I mean, the sphere owes this catтАФbut skiffy? Baby, if Admiral Bob ever called in
all his markers, he'd own the mother. All us sldffs'd be riff less. Every bag, every
groove, Big Bad Bob been there first, an' maybe you could cut him, but you better
bring your lip. You don't even have to dig him, but you ain't never gonna get around
him, see? 'Cause when he put it down, SHAZAM: it stayed there!
Far as anybody know, the cat never smoked his second reefer ... but I'll tell you
this, baby: he was High'n Lyin' all the time!