"Vukcevich-TheFinger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vukcevich Ray)

RAY VUKCEVICH

THE FINGER

Bobby wanted to practice it on his mother, but he knew her face would turn red,
then purple, and he'd see all the veins pulsing in her head. Smoke would pour
from her ears and nose. Her eyes would pinwheel, and sparks would fly. Her lips
would disappear in a tight mean line. She'd start vibrating and humming, and the
top of her head would blow off like the lid of a steam kettle, and everything
inside would run down her face, melting her until there'd be nothing left but a
puddle of Mom stuff. So Bobby told her he was going out, instead.

He let the rusty spring on the screen door have its way as he ran from the
kitchen into the Arizona sunshine and summer bug noise, and he was almost out of
sight when he heard the satisfying bang! that made all the peacocks scream.

Bobby lazed on down the street, Main Street, the only street, a dirt road
really, kicking rocks and looking for devils' horns. Swarms of summertime flies
buzzed around his head. He pulled at his jeans and the shorts riding up in the
crack of his butt. He kept an eye out for whirlwinds to stand in as he practiced
flipping birds, the middle finger of his right hand snicking out like the blade
of a switchblade knife.

Do it once, then do it twice, then do it again, This was a necessary man type
skill his cousin fat Edward, who was thirteen and should know, had told him.
Necessary for a gee man, Bobby thought Ibut never said} because that's what he
was going to be -- a gee man and maybe get himself a good golly molly. Twist and
shout! Yes. He flipped off the sky.

And the sky said, "Hey!"

Bobby tipped his head back to see a man in a cage. The cage hung from a high
branch of the biggest oak tree around. Jail tree. Everyone called the prisoner
Robert; everyone knew he liked to drink whiskey and pinch the bottoms of bar
girls. Bobby flipped him off.

Robert held the bars of the cage with both hands and glared down at Bobby.
"Don't do that, Bobby B."

"That's not my name," Bobby said and held up his fist and triggered his finger
again. Just when his middle finger snapped into position, he jabbed at Robert
with his whole hand -- a nice bit of style, Bobby thought.

"I told you not to do that!" Robert yelled. He pumped his legs and the cage
swung on its rope. Bobby showed him his bird again.

Robert had gotten the cage going around in a circle, and now he crashed it
against the trunk of the oak tree. "You just wait till I get out of here!"