Марсианские хроники

           ButIhadmylittlecache.Wehadourlibraries,afewprivatecitizens,untilyousentyourmenaroundwithtorchesandincineratorsandtoremyfiftythousandbooksupandburnedthem.JustasyouputastakethroughtheheartofHalloweenandtoldyourfilmproducersthatiftheymadeanythingatalltheywouldhavetomakeandremakeEarnestHemingway.MyGod,howmanytimeshaveIseenForWhomtheBellTollsdone!Thirtydifferentversions.Allrealistic.Oh,realism!Oh,here,oh,now,ohhell!"

           "Itdoesn’tpaytobebitter!"

           "Mr.Garrett,youmustturninafullreport,mustn’tyou?"

           "Yes."

           "Then,forcuriosity’ssake,you’dbettercomeinandlookaround.It’lltakeonlyaminute."

           "Allright.Leadtheway.Andnotricks.I’veagunwithme."

           ThedoortotheHouseofUshercreakedwide.Amoistwindissuedforth.Therewasanimmensesighingandmoaning,likeasubterraneanbellowsbreathinginthelostcatacombs.

           Aratprancedacrossthefloorstones.Garrett,cryingout,gaveitakick.Itfellover,theratdid,andfromitsnylonfurstreamedanincrediblehordeofmetalfleas.

           "Amazing!"Garrettbenttosee.

           Anoldwitchsatinaniche,quiveringherwaxhandsoversomeorange-and-bluetarotcards.ShejerkedherheadandhissedthroughhertoothlessmouthatGarrett,tappinghergreasycards.

           "Death!"shecried.

           "Nowthat’sthesortofthingImean,"saidGarrett."Deplorable!"

           "I’llletyouburnherpersonally."

           "Willyou,really?"Garrettwaspleased.Thenhefrowned.