"Alan Dean Foster - Glory Lane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

a star lineman on the football team.

His real destination was coming into view, but the excitement it prompted
quickly gave way to disappoint-ment and then anger. He recognized one of
those leaning up against the club doorway. Despite his arching,
gravity-defying hairdo and artfully torn vest, Mangle still looked like a nerd.
The kid was trying hard to fit in, but he didn't really have the spirit or the
energy to make like a true anarchist. Mangle's real name was Michael
Liverwort, or something like that.

The kid saw him and Seeth acknowledged the glance with a nod. There
were a couple of girls hanging around and one other guy. The girls were
both overweight, though the brunette would have been pretty if she'd
dropped forty or fifty pounds. The sign over the door said
FISH HOOK

The door was covered with grafitti, much of it gross and obscene, some of
it violent. Next to the handle someone had plastered a bumper sticker that
screamed NUKE THE YUPPIES. He ignored the others and spoke to Mangle.

"What's the deal?"

"Closed," the younger boy told him mournfully.

"I can see that, pinhead. Why?"

The brunette spoke up. She sounded eager for another human contact.
"Over there, on the front. Check it out. A real bummer."

Seeth studied the notice that had been stuck near the en-trance. He'd
always been a fast reader if not an enthusiastic one. The notice was from
the Albuquerque Department of Health.

"Roaches." Mangle was trying to be helpful. "In the kitchen."

"So what's the big deal? So you get a roach in your burger."

The other girl made gagging noises while her friend giggled. Seeth couldn't
stand giggling. They're playacting, he thought. They've no business here.
Slumming. Mangle might be a pitiable case, but at least his heart was in
the right place.

"So why didn't they just close the kitchen? Why shut down the whole club?"

Mangle spread long, skinny arms. "Hey, how should I know, man? When I
got here they were chasing everybody out. I thought maybe there was a
riot or something going on, but no such luck."

No such luck, Seeth mused. Not in Albuquerque. No-body wanted to get
thrown in jail in Albuquerque. Not with a bunch of wetbacks. The local