"Nine Tomorrows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

I Just Make Them Up, See!

Oh, Dr. A.- Oh, Dr. A.- There is something (don't go 'way) That I'd like to hear you say. Though I'd rather die Than try To pry, The fact, you'll find, Is that my mind Has evolved the jackpot question for today. I intend no cheap derision, So please answer with decision, And, discarding all your petty cautious fears, Tell the secret of your vision! How on earth Do you give birth To those crazy and impossible ideas?

Is it indigestion And a question Of the nightmare that results? Of your eyeballs whirling, Twirling, Fingers curling And unfurling, While your blood beats maddened chimes As it keeps impassioned times With your thick, uneven pulse? Is it that, you think, or liquor That brings on the wildness quicker? For a teeny Weeny Dry martini May be just your private genie; Or perhaps those Tom and Jerries You will find the very Berries For inducing And unloosing That weird gimmick or that kicker; Or an awful Combination Of unlawful Stimulation, Marijuana plus tequila, That will give you just that feel o' Things a-clicking And unsticking As you start your cerebration To the crazy syncopation Of a brain a-tocking-ticking. Surely something, Dr. A., Makes you fey And quite outrй. Since I read you with devotion, Won't you give me just a notion Of that shrewdly pepped-up potion Out of which emerge your plots? That wild secret bubbly mixture That has made you such a fixture In most favored s. f. spots- Now, Dr. A., Don't go away- Oh, Dr. A.- Oh, Dr. A-