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

though it might contain some conta-gious disease, and read.

The Bearer of this Card is Neither a Convicted Felon nor a Libyan Terrorist,
Nor does He Suffer From AIDS or Any Other Exotic Disease.
He is Not Mute Nor is This a Solicitation for Money.
In Point of Fact This Card Has No Purpose What-soever
Except to Occupy and Otherwise Waste Thirty Seconds
of Another Overly Curious Person's Time.
Suc-cessful, Isn't it?

She was slow, but she wasn't dense. And she did have a sense of humor,
even if so far she'd taken pains to hide the fact. Now she grinned and
handed the card back to him. As she did so she saw that he was holding a
dollar out to her.
"Buy you one?"

"Sorry." She took the bill. "Not allowed to drink or eat in front of the
customers."

"Sound policy. I mean, all those Cokes, you never know when you or that
other waitress might go on a caffeine binge and tear the place apart,
right?"

This time her smile wasn't forced. She moved a little nearer. "What's your
name, anyway?"

"Wouldn't you be surprised if it was 'anyway'?"

She drew the Coke, twice pouring off foam to make sure that he got his
money's worth, added a straw without being asked. He pushed the straw
aside and took a long, cold swallow, spoke while crunching ice.

"I'm Seeth."

"That's a funny name."

"I'm a real funny guy." He leaned over the counter, trying to get close.
"Want to see how funny?"

She ignored that, her gaze rising. "I like your hair."

"Thanks. Why not get one yourself?"

"Me?" She patted her carefully permed tresses. "Oh no, I couldn't."

"Why couldn't you?"

"Well for one thing, my parents would just die."

"Sorry. I've yet to see a documented case of hair causing a single parental