Девять рассказов
Pretty Mouth and Green my Eyes
Iwasjust—No,no,"thegray-hairedmansaid,leavinghisfingersbridgedoverhiseyes.Heclearedhisthroat.
"Yeah.Whathappenedwas,apparentlyLeonagotstinkingandthenhadagoddamcryingjag,andBobwantedJoanietogooutandgrabadrinkwiththemsomewhereandironthethingout.Idon’tknow.Youknow.Veryinvolved.Anyway,soshe’shome.Whataratrace.HonesttoGod,Ithinkit’sthisgoddamNewYork.WhatIthinkmaybewe’lldo,ifeverythinggoesalongallright,we’llgetourselvesalittleplaceinConnecticutmaybe.Nottoofarout,necessarily,butfarenoughthatwecanleadanormalgoddamlife.Imeanshe’scrazyaboutplantsandallthatstuff.She’dprobablygomadifshehadherowngoddamgardenandstuff.KnowwhatImean?Imean—exceptyou—whodoweknowinNewYorkexceptabunchofneurotics?It’sboundtoundermineevenanormalpersonsoonerorlater.KnowwhatImean?"
Thegray-hairedmandidn’tgiveananswer.Hiseyes,behindthebridgeofhishand,wereclosed."Anyway,I’mgonnatalktoheraboutittonight.Ortomorrow,maybe.She’sstillalittleundertheweather.Imeanshe’sahelluvagoodkidbasically,andifwehaveachancetostraightenourselvesoutalittlebit,we’dbegoddamstupidnottoatleasthaveagoatit.WhileI’matit,I’malsogonnatrytostraightenoutthislousybedbugmess,too.I’vebeenthinking.Iwasjustwondering,Lee
