"Spider Robinson - C2 - Timetravellers Strictly Cash" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

drunk wouthout a single syllabobble, Jake."
"Damn it," I began, and stopped. "Make it a beer, Mike."
He nodded and brought me a L├╢wenbr├бu dark. "How about a toast?"
I glanced at him sharply. There was a toast that I urgently wanted to make, to have behind
me for another year. "Maybe later."
"Sure. Hey, Drink! How about a toast around here?"
Long-Drink looked up from across the room. "I'm your man." The conversation began to abate
as he threaded his way through the crowd to the chalk line on the floor and stood facing the deep
brick fireplace. He is considerably taller than somewhat, and he towered over everyone. He waited
until he had our attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen and regular customers." he said then, "you may find this difficult
to believe, but in my youth I was known far and wide as a jackass." This brought a spirited
response, which he endured stoically. "My only passion in life, back in my college days, was


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grossing people out. I considered it a holy mission, andl had a whole crew of other jackasses to
tell me I was just terrific. I would type long letters, onto a roll of toilet paper, smear mustard
on the last square, then roll it back up and mail it in a box. I kept a dead mouse in my pocket at
all times. I streaked Town Hall in 1952. I loved to see eyes glaze. And I regret to confess that I
cOncentrated mostly on ladies, because they were the easiest to gross out. Foul Phil, they called
me in them-days. I'll tell you what cured me." He wet his whistle, confident of our attention.
"The only trouble with a reputation for rudeness is that sooner or later you run short of
unsuspecting victims. So you look for new faces. One day I'm at a party off campus, and I notice a
young lady I've never seen before, a pretty little thing in an off-the-shoulder blouse. Oboy, I
sez to myself, fresh blood! What'll I do? I've got the mouse in one pocket, the rectal-thermometer
swizzle stick in the other, but she looks so virginal and innocent I decide the hell with
subtlety, I'll try a direct approach. So I walk over to where she's sittin' talkin' to Petey
LeFave on a little couch. I come up behind her, like, upzip me trousers, out with me instrument,
and lay it across her shoulder."
There were some howls of outrage, from the men as much as from the women, and some
giggles, from the women as
much as fmrnthe men. "Well, I said I was a jackass," the Drink Said, and we all applauded.
"No reaction whatsoever do I get from her," he went on, dropping into his fake brogue.
"People grinnin' or growlin' all round the room just like here, Petey's eyes poppin', but this
lady gives no sign that she's aware of me presence atall, atall. I kinda wiggle it a bit, and not
a glance does she give me. Finally 1 can't stand it. 'Hey,' I sez, tappin' her other shoulder and
pointing, 'what do you think this is?' And she' takes a leisurely look. Then she looks me in the
eye and says, 'It's something like a man's penis, only smaller.'
An explosion of laughter and applause filled the room.
". . . wherefore," continued Long-Drink, "I propose a toast to me youth, and may God save
me from a relapse." And the cheers overcame the laughter as he gulped his drink and flung the
glass into the fireplace. I nearly grinned myself.
"My turn," Tommy Janssen called out, and the Drink made way for him at the chalk line.
Tommy's probably the youngest of the regulars; I'd put him at just about twenty-one. His hair is
even longer than mine, but he keeps his face mowed.
"This happened to me just last week. I went into the city for a party, and I left it too
late, and it was the wrong neighborhood of New York for a civilian to be in at that time of night,