"Asprin, Robert - Myth 09 - M.Y.T.H Inc. In Action" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asprin Robert)

As usually occurs, however, just when it looks like I'm gonna finally win an argument with Nunzio, somethin' intervenes to change the subject.

"Do you believe this?" the tough broad spits... literally... lettin' fly with an impressive jet of fluid from between her teeth to punctuate her anger.

"Military law! It's bad enough that we have to put up with these haircuts and flaky uniforms, but now we have to sit through lectures on crud like Military law! When are they gonna get around to teaching us something about fighting?"

This does not come as a particularly startlin' revelation to me, as I have long suspected that Spyder did not enlist for the cultural-type benefits that the army offers. I am, however, more than a little taken with the distance she gets with her spittin'. It occurs to me that I haven't tried spit tin' that way since Don Bruce promoted us and hinted strongly that we should class up our act a little, and, realizin' this, decide not to try to match her performance, as distance spit tin' such as hers requires constant pr act ice if one is to remain in form. For the educatin' of those of youse what has been raised too proper and upright to have ever experimented with this particular form of self-expression, let me caution youse against tryin' this for the first time in front of a critical audience. If your technique is any thin' less than flaw less, the odds are that your effort will dribble down your chin and onto your shirt rather than arcin' away in the picturesque display you are expectin', leavin' the viewer

All of this passes through my mind in a flash, as I am a fairly quick thinker despite the impression given by my size, whilst I am tryin' to think of an appropriate response to Spyder's kvetchin'. Nunzio comes up with somethin' before I do, however, as he is no slouch himself when it comes to thinkin'... particularly when there is a skirt involved,

"I think you should listen real close to what they tell us about Military law, Spyder," he sez, "It'll pay some solid benefits in the long run."

"How so?"

"Well," he smiles, settlin' in to his lecture voice again, "speaking from long personal experience, it is often much easier to continue doing exactly what you want to do right under the noses of authority if one is aware of exactly what those authorities consider to be antisocial behavior. When you stop to think about it, it's real nice of the army to give us official advance warning of exactly what rules they plan to enforce and, by exclusion, what is fair game. If they didn't, or we were dumb enough to sleep through this particular lecture, the only way to figure out what activities can be Done openly and which should be performed in ... Shall we say, a less public manner, would be to act blindly, then wait to see what they came down on us for."

"Just how long is that' personal experience / fellah?" one of the Flie brothers pipes up.

"Yeah, I was just wondering the same thing, " the other chimes in. "Aren't you two a little old to be joining the army?"

Now, it is clear to me what is goin' on. The two farm boys have been ho pin' to put some moves on Spyder, but then Nunzio gets in the way. Rather than backin' off like any sane person would do, they was tryin' to score their points by pickin' a fight with him. To say the least, I have seen better plans to continue one's good health.

Of course, Nunzio can spot it too, and he knows that we should be avoidin' any kind of trouble if we want to co MPlete our training quick instead of sittin' in the stockade for a few days. He also knows, however, that he is bein' made to look like a fool in front of the only skirt we is likely to be associatin' with for a while, and while he has considerable tolerance at soakin' up abuse from a boss what is pa yin' our wages and expenses, his ability to put up with bein' hassled without blowin' his cool drops in direct proportion to the standin' of the hassler in the peckin' order, and the Flie brothers Don't stand very high at all.

"Are you boys sayin' you think we're too old to be any good in a fight?" he sez, turnin' to face his critics while flexin' his hands slightly.

If I didn't recognize the dangerous tone in his voice, I could sure recognize that flexin' action of his as I was the one who taught it to him in the first place, and figure I had better step in before things get too messy.

"Before proceedin' with the discussion at hand," I sez, "I think youse should all perhaps take notice of the attention which is bein' paid to our intellectual-type conversation by the corporal who is standin' not twenty yards behind youse."

"Intellectual-type discussion'?" Shu brays, punchin' his brother on the arm. "What kind of talk is that, old man?"

"Paw told us big city folk talked kinda funny!" Hy grinned, "but I ain't never heard nobody who sounds as weird as this guy."

"He's talked that way ever since he played one of the leads in 'guys and dolls' while we was in college, " Nunzio sez, quick-like. "Beyond that, I strongly suggest you drop the subject."

That's when I realize that I have commenced to flex my own hands a bit... An action which has the tendency to make Nunzio nervous. While I am not particularly sensitive to callous or ignorant remarks about my size or how I'm gettin' older, I can get a little touchy if anyone tries to poke fun at how I talk. You see, I have spent considerable time perfectin' this particular style of expression as I feel it enhances my believability as a rough and tumble leg-breaker, thereby minimizing the number of times I have to actually partake of the violent-type actions which so offend and depress my sensitive soul. Therefore, anyone who tries to state or i MPly that talkin' like dis is easy or stupid is suin' an invitation to waltz with me which would best be withheld unless his or her hospitalization insurance is substantial, detailed, and paid up. This is, of course, the very butt on the Flie brothers is tinkerin' with, and I find their efforts sufficiently clumsy as to require immediate instruction as to the error of

"Were you in that musical, too?" Junebug sez, unwittingly steppin' between us in his eagerness to start a conversation. He is a good-lookin' kid with the kind of soft, unblemished features usually associated with male fashion-type models. "I got to play Sky Masterson, myself. What was your major, any way? I got my bachelor's in dance."

"Business Master's," I sez, try in to ease around him. Unfortunately he has given the Flie brothers a face-savin' out from the buildin' confrontation with Nunzio and me. Whether motivated by any native intelligence or simply saved by animal survival instinct, they switch their harassment to this new target without so much as pausin' for breath."

"A college man?... And a dancer! ooooo! Did you hear that, Hy?"

"Sure did, " his brother responds and commences to make kissey noises at Junebug. "no wonder he's so purdy."

"Leave him alone, you guys!"

This last comes from Spyder, who for some reason has seen fit to de al her self in to the situational.