"Michaela Roessner - Ah, Sweet Mystery Of Life" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roessner Michaela)

bar.
"And if your provender was not so excellent and bountiful, would I have
overladen my plate? Oops!"
The barkeep had backed him up to the overhanging platter, which flipped
over. The boy ducked away and down just in time to catch the china before
it crashed to the floor, but all the food had lofted upward once again,
achieving admirable height.
"Great Godfrey Daniel!" brayed the youth, and scrambled after. Mac's pen
sprang back to life.
The boy now had a full crowd at the door to threaten. But fate was
merciful. One by one the youth shepherded the errant objects back to the
plate, all but three: A dinner roll shot away to the left, a bratwurst to
the right, and an egg directly above him. The bartender slid one of the
heavy maple chairs at him; whether to help him or trip him, Mac couldn't
tell.
The young fellow hopped onto the chair's seat and looked up helplessly. He
still clutched the plate, so even if he could grab the egg and one of the
other two victuals, it would be too late for the third. A sharply drawn
gasp from all present tugged at the walls. The boy's face sagged with
despair. The bratwurst and roll kept arcing away. The egg began to
descend.
Suddenly the plate was perched on the derby. The youth's arms shot
straight out right and left, grabbing the sausage and bread at the exact
instant the egg nestled into its proper place on the plate. A moment of
stunned silence, then the room erupted into cheers, applause, whistles and
stamping feet.
The boy stepped elegantly down from the chair, plate still balanced on
hat. "Aaaah yas. Thank you, thank you good people," he snored graciously.
He opened his coat and pulled handbills from an inner pocket. "You have
just witnessed a performance by Bill Duke, most royal of jugglers.
Majestic as my abilities are, I'm forced by honest modesty to say that I
am but one of a troupe of similarly stellar artists who make up the
Fabulous Harry McSneed Travelling Burlesque Show. We will be performing in
your fair township tonight, should you care to be entertained and
delighted by even greater feats of prowess, and to weep and laugh to
excess at our excellent thespian fare."
By now the barkeep was frowning again. The lad coughed and added, "And
speaking of most excellent fare, it would have been impossible for me to
have accomplished the energetic display you just observed without the
sustenance of this establishment's most excellent food and drink."
The saloonkeeper smiled behind his walrus moustache as some of the crowd
drifted further in and perched at tables and barstools, talking among
themselves as they examined the handbills. The bartender hurried around to
the other side of the bar to take advantage of his new customers.
The boy meandered through the throng, making sure that everyone received a
flyer. Now and then he reached up to the plate on his head to grab a quick
bite of pickle or sausage. In spite of his promotion of the beerhall's
food and drink, he'd obviously had no time to eat before launching into
his promotional stunt.
Mac turned back to his drawings. Pages and pages of lines of motion: one