"Esther M. Friesner - Auntie Elspeth's Halloween Story (or The Gourd, The Bad, And The Ugly)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

AUNTIE ELSPETH’S
HALLOWEEN STORY
OR
THE GOURD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY
ESTHER M. FRIESNER

Hello, children, what brings you here to see your kindly old Auntie Elspeth? Parents fed up with you
again? Well, never you mind. Auntie Elspeth knows what it’s like to be unwanted, especially by the very
same people who claim to love and cherish you, but who’ll shove you into a so-called senior citizens’
community—spelled “hellhole”—so fast that your wheelchair leaves skidmarks on the linoleum.
Now, now, don’t whimper, and for heaven’s sake don’t look at me with those great big sad puppydog
eyes. You don’t want to know what I did to the last real puppydog who tried that crap on me. Face the
facts, kiddies: Mommy and Daddy want you the hell out of their hair for awhile, probably because they
want to play Hide the Hamster—no, you do not need to know what that means—but they also want an
ooey-gooey feelgood excuse for doing it. That’s why they parked you here with me. Probably said
something like, “Oh my, won’t dear old Auntie Elspeth love hav-ing some quality time with the children?”

No, Tommy, the word you are looking for to describe what Mommy and Daddy said is not “fibbing.”
The word you want is “bullshit.” See if you can remember to say that when Mommy and Daddy come to
pick you up, you and the rest of this clutch of young harpies-in-training. You see, dearie? Being with
Auntie Elspeth iseducational . That’s another word Mommy and Daddy use a whole lot, I’ll bet,
especially when they want to justify plunking you brats down for a four-hour stint in front of the television.

As long as we’re stuck with each other for—When did your parents say they were coming back? What?
That long?! Why, those stinking, lousy, rotten sons-of—! Just because I’m old, do they think I’ve got
nothing better to do with my time than hang out with the spawn of their loins? Bah.

Oh, to hell with it. Open the top drawer of that night-stand over there, kids; it’s full of candy. Help
yourself to as much as you want. Maybe if I send you back to them tanked up on sugar they’ll think
twice before farming you out to me again.

Hm? What’s that, Cindy? You don’t want any candy? What the hell’s the matter with you?

Ohhhh. Not hungry, just bored. And bor-ingtoo, for the record. You want a story? Well, here’s one:
Once upon a time there was a nice old woman who was minding her own business when her nephew and
his bimbo wife dumped their three kids on her doorstep and as soon as the old lady got the chance she
sold the little buggers to a traveling circus where they had to spend the rest of their days biting the heads
off chickens. The. End.

Happy?

Damn it, shut your yap and quit your bawling before one of the guards sticks his thick head in here. I’m
not supposed to have all that candy, you know. Lousy screws will confiscate it if they find it. Look, I tell
you what: How about if kindly old Auntie Elspeth tells you adifferent story? Once upon a time there
were three little trichinosis-infected pigs who—

What?

You don’t want that story either? Picky little snot, ain’tcha. Well then, what kind of storydoes Her Royal
Heinieness desire?