"Ron Goulart - Conversations with My Knees" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goulart Ron)

lovely voice.”

“Oh yeah? How come this broad hasn’t had a singing gig in six
years?”

I again requested, “Tell me why my new knees can talk.”

“Simple. Dowling used you as a guinea pig, sappo. He wanted to test
us out—and we’re a lot more than knees, by the way—before installing his
gadgets in somebody important.”

I shot to my feet and began to pace the big room. “No, before I call
the clinic, I’m going to get in touch with my attorney. And maybe the AMA.” I
went striding over to one of the big view windows to gaze out at the glaring
afternoon.

“Notice anything, dude?”

“Hum?”

“You walk pretty good for a gink just out of surgery.”

I inhaled sharply, stared down at my feet. “Yeah, now that you mention
it, how come I—”

At that point I began to tap dance. I circled the living room, doing a
pretty fair impression of Fred Astaire. Then I completed a brief but
complex Irish jig, added a few very convincing Flamenco stomps, and
settled down in one of our faux Morris chairs. “Christ,” I observed. “How in
the hell can I—”
 “First,” cut in my right knee, “ask not what your knees can do for you,
chum, but what you can do for us.”

I overcame the impulse to stand up again. I didn’t want to risk dancing
around the room anymore. “Do for my knees?”

The motherly one said, “All we’d like you to do is help us find Dr.
Dowling.”

****

“I’m not much of a cook,” I said.

“You are now,” my right knee assured me.

My knees and I were standing in our large redwood and copper
kitchen. Dusk was settling in outside.

“You need some good warm food inside you, dear boy,” said my
other knee. “A meat loaf sandwich indeed.”