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Название книги: Whispering Nickel Idols
Автор(ы): Glen Cook
Жанр: Боевая фантастика
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/Whispering-Nickel-Idols-157976.html
This one is for my mom, who was a rock in aturbulent stream.With thanks to Jim K. and Ellen W.
1
There I was, galumphing downstairs, six feet three of the handsomest, ever-loving blue-eyed ex-Marine you’d ever want to meet. Whistling. But it takes me a big, big bucket to carry a tune. And my bucket had a hole in it.Something was wrong. I needed my head examined. I’d gone to bed early, all by my own self. And hadn’t had a dram to drink before I did. Yet this morning I was ready to break into a song and dance routine.I felt so good that I forgot to be suspicious.I can’t forget, ever, that the gods have chosen me, sweet baby Garrett, to be their special holy fool and point man in their lunatic entertainments.I froze on the brink of my traditional morning right turn to the kitchen.There was a boy in the hallway that runs from my front door back to my kitchen. He was raggedy with reddish ginger hair all tangled, a kid who was his own barber. And his barber was half blind and used a dull butcher
Название книги: Whispering Nickel Idols
Автор(ы): Glen Cook
Жанр: Боевая фантастика
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/Whispering-Nickel-Idols-157976.html
This one is for my mom, who was a rock in aturbulent stream.With thanks to Jim K. and Ellen W.
1
There I was, galumphing downstairs, six feet three of the handsomest, ever-loving blue-eyed ex-Marine you’d ever want to meet. Whistling. But it takes me a big, big bucket to carry a tune. And my bucket had a hole in it.Something was wrong. I needed my head examined. I’d gone to bed early, all by my own self. And hadn’t had a dram to drink before I did. Yet this morning I was ready to break into a song and dance routine.I felt so good that I forgot to be suspicious.I can’t forget, ever, that the gods have chosen me, sweet baby Garrett, to be their special holy fool and point man in their lunatic entertainments.I froze on the brink of my traditional morning right turn to the kitchen.There was a boy in the hallway that runs from my front door back to my kitchen. He was raggedy with reddish ginger hair all tangled, a kid who was his own barber. And his barber was half blind and used a dull butcher
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