"Mary A. Turzillo - Thumbkin, Caesar, Princess, and Troll" - читать интересную книгу автора (Turzillo Mary A)

that Daddy Caesar wants my woman to hop in bed with. Never happen. Princess
goes for big men."
_The bigger they are, the harder they fall_, thought Thumbkin. But he
merely said, "I think Princess will go for a big brain rather than a big
mouth."
"Haw. Your brain can't be much bigger than my little toe, now can it?"
"Doesn't matter," said Thumbkin. "Your brain is smaller than _my_
little toe."
Troll had not had much opportunity in his short life to learn anger
management, so he lifted his huge athletic shoe (size 23 triple D) and stomped
down hard on Thumbkin --
-- or rather on the place Thumbkin had been. The nerve impulse between
Thumbkin's head and Thumbkin's feet was quite short, him being so small and
all, so he was gone like the beam of light from a laser cat toy.
In fact, Troll had slammed his foot down on a fork Thumbkin had
surreptitiously dragged in behind him, and the fork flew in the air and
embedded itself in the bridge of Troll's nose.
Thumbkin thumbed his own tiny nose at Troll, and the mammoth drug lord
dove after him. The tiny man led the giant on a wild goose chase around the
posh apartment. A priceless lamp in the shape of Elvis exorcising a demon from
Marilyn Monroe crashed into the plush sculpted carpet, burning a hole in the
beautiful cabbage rose design. The chandelier, composed of dangling crystal
Hummel knockoffs, crashed as Troll made a wild jump for Thumbkin, who was
shinnying up the electrical cord. Troll slid through the door to the
downstairs powder room and skidded only to slam his head into the porcelain
toilet base.
Thumbkin perched on the purple crushed velvet commode cover and swung
his legs. "Don't make me do this," he said. "Can't we fight over her like
gentlemen?"
"A duel!" Troll roared.
"A drinking duel?" Thumbkin asked. He knew the answer. Troll's forte
was in more deadly drugs than alcohol.
***
A half hour later, Thumbkin sat on the coffee table, which was surfaced with
rose quartz inlaid with shark teeth. Troll sat on an orange flower-print
leather sofa. A hundred-dollar bill and a pile of pink powder rested between
them. Tension was in the air.
"Pure Strawberry Lucid," said Troll. "The man who's left standing gets
the babe."
"If she'll have me," said Thumbkin. He hated how tiny his voice
sounded, and he had some ideas how to fix that if he won the lady and the
stock.
"Haw!" barked Troll, and rolled up the bill. He laid a line of the
designer drug on the table and gave the bill to Thumbkin.
Thumbkin staggered under the weight of the bill. He clasped both arms
around it to keep it from unrolling. Then he laid it to the line and began to
inhale.
Assemblers he had sprinkled on his upper lip went to work. They
decomposed the organic compound of the drug into harmless gasses. The oxygen
gave him a little kick, but other than that, he felt nothing but growing