"Spider Robinson - Very Bad Deaths" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

some of his stuff piled on itтАФand on the right, a dresser that was just as plainly his. Then at the foot of
his bed, there was nothing but space, until you reached a dresser at the far end of the room. Just to the
right of it was the other bed, turned sideways, its head end flush up against the wall on the right. This put
it right up against the radiator that was the room's principal source of heat, and right below the main


file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Nieuwe%20map/074348861X___3.htm (3 of 7)24-12-2006 1:50:07
 - Chapter 3

window. Along the right-hand wall, between the bed and Smelly's dresser, were the two desks facing
each other below the second window.
The net effect was that my clothes would be as far as possible from hisтАФand the places where I'd be
spending most of time, my bed and desk, were both within the cross-breeze that would be generated if
we were to leave both windows slightly open at all times. As they were now. That could get chilly in
winter, but my bed, at least, was right next to the radiator. I could see that on cold nights I'd be warm in
that bed, with plenty of air circulation just above me.
It was a most thoughtful and practical arrangement. Given that one of us stank like Death in a garbage
can. And it had been most tactful of him to just go ahead and do it before I arrived, and present it as a
fait accompli neither of us needed to comment on in any detail. "Looks good to me, Sm . . . Zandor," I
said. "Aesthetically satisfying." Think of a reason why it's good other than how it will minimize his
stench. "UhтАФ"
"And we'll both get sunlight at our desks."
"Right!" I blinked. "Hey, how did you know my name was Russell? There's no name card on the door."
He shrugged, and took that steady gaze away from me for the first time since I'd come in the door.
"Look, there's one other thing I want to get clear from the start."
Oh shit. I braced myself. This was the part where he was going to tell me what he considered the law,
and under what circumstances he would be laying it down. The house rules, his version. "What's that,
man?"
Those fearless eyes locked on me again. "I'm pretty square."
"Oh hey, lookтАФ"
"Let me finish, okay? I don't drink, or smoke, I don't go out much, I like music you've never heard of,
and I study all the time. But I don't expect the same of you. You can drink whatever you want in here as
long as you don't puke on my part of the room. You can smoke as much as you want. You can smoke as
much pot as you want, or take any drugs you like, as long as you never ever leave anything illegal in my
part of the room. The only place I draw the line is: no parties in this room, and no sneaking girls in here.
Can you live with that?"
"What kind of music?"
"Ray Charles."
I felt myself starting to grin. "Which do you prefer? The Atlantic sides, or the new Columbia stuff?"
His turn to blink. "Well, they're both great. But my favorite is his big band instrumental stuff."
Big grin now. "Really? Never heard any."
He smiled back. "Then we're going to have to hook your stereo up. Mine died on the trip."
On the way out to the car, and all the way back again, I kept intercepting looks, from friends and
strangers alike. First they'd gape comically, at the sight of Smelly and me going by together with our
arms full, obviously roommates. Then they'd throw me a look of sympathy, or pity, or amusement,
depending on their disposition. Then when my own expression told them I didn't agree I was a victim,
thank you very much, they'd get mad at me.
Ray Charles's My Kind of Jazz albums turned out to be incredible.

It didn't take long for word to get around campus that I not only had drawn old Smelly for a rooms, I