"FWLS40" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

Sure, she ignores me back at D.P.W. also, but here it's a bit
more personal. We're in the same ship, and she still ignores me.
What's a guy to do?

I roamed towards the rear of the ship (Auto-pilot. Only way
to fly) and poked around for something to do. I found it in the
form of the ship's CD2 player.

I browsed the rack... Men W/out Talent, Euphoria, The Black
Crusade, Stomach Contents, and Jellied Hams. I selected the
loudest, most annoying SC song I could find and popped it in the
disc tray. The tray slid in quietly, then got loud.

There's a saying that goes 'You can rate how good your
stereo is by the amount of plaster it can displace'. I disagree.
If it can't demolish a small house, it's simply not worth
listening to. Naturally, I had it cranked up to 13 before even
turning on the player. Then I turned it up s'more.

I got through four or five earth-shattering notes, then the
blaster bolt neatly melted the CD2 player into a puddle of
plastic slag. I turned around in time to watch Janice holster
her smoking sidearm and go back to reading.

"You mind? I was listening to that," I protested.

"I want it quiet," she replied.

"Quiet's dull. Let's chat. See the last playoff game?
Whooeee!"

"Go away."

"Look, what is WITH you?" I asked, with appropriate wild arm
gestures. "I mean, either you're in a deep funk of some kind or
that book is a serious pageturner. And since I've read it and
found it dreary and poorly-organized, I know that can't be it."

"I'm not talking about it. Go away."

Yes, clearly this required extreme measures. If I was to
maintain my sanity, I'd have to break her silence and get
SOMETHING resembling conversation going. The only way to do that
wasn't pretty. It could cost me my life, but I would have to
risk it.

"Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety nine
bottles of beer..." I sung quietly to myself, wandering around
the ship, while keeping an eye on the literary form of Janice.
"If one of those bottles should happen to fall, ninety eight