"Howard Waldrop - DisRxT" - читать интересную книгу автора (Waldrop Howard)

Her parents had come down a little in the world since the War, but they still lived in the biggest house for
miles around, and she still had her rich-girl clothes. She was the first in town to have a poodle-skirt and
cat-eye sunglasses.

When you fell for Therese, you fell hard, and they all did. All except Dave followed her around like baby
ducks when she walked through the neighborhood or rode her English Racer bike, the first seen in
Mayfield. Dave watched from a distance, but he watched.




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Sometimes Dave and Sally went up into the treehouse and pulled the ladder up behind them. Croupie,
Beanpole, Sankandank, and Sticks imagined all sorts of things going on, from their place over in the other
clubhouse.

Sometimes Dave and Sally fooled around a little bit; sometimes they kissed till they got bored with it.
Mostly they lay around on the cushions and pillows and read Monster of Frankenstein and Airboy and
Vault of Horror comic books, or old Popular Mechanics. They just used it as a place to get away from
everything.

And there always came a time, late in the day, just before everyone left or was called away to supper,
when Dave stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the setting sun, with the evening wind in his hair, and,
holding his leather helmet in his hand, he would take out a Lucky Stripe┬о candy cigarette and put it in his
mouth and enjoy the last one of the day. He would think on the lost days of his youth, and stub the
cigarette out till it broke with a crack, and toss it out onto the pile in the driveway. Then he would unfold
the ladder, and help Sally down if she were there, or let himself down, and pedal his way home, if he
knew his father wasn't drunk, or go over to Sankandank's house if he knew he was, and either stay there
all night or go home when his mom sent word that his dad was already passed out.




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THREE, FOUR, CLOSE THE DOOR


Into every idyll a little merde must fall.