"Robert A. Heinlein - The Door into Summer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

I was not in bad health (aside from a cumulative hangover), I was still on the
right side of thirty by a few days, and I was far from being broke. No police
were looking for me, nor any husbands, nor any process servers; there was
nothing wrong that a slight case of amnesia would not have cured. But there
was winter in my heart and I was looking for the door to summer.
If I sound like a man with an acute case of self-pity, you are correct. There
must have been well over two billion people on this planet in worse shape
than I was. Nevertheless, I was looking for the Door into Summer.
Most of the ones I had checked lately had been swinging doors, like the pair
in front of me then-the SANS SOUCI Bar Grill, the sign said. I went in, picked
a booth hallway back, placed the overnight bag I was carrying carefully on
the seat, slid in by it, and waited for the waiter.
The overnight bag said, „Waarrrh?“
I said, „Take it easy, Pete.“
„Naaow!“
„Nonsense, you just went. Pipe down, the waiter is coming.“
Pete shut up. I looked up as the waiter leaned over the table, and said to him,
„A double shot of your bar Scotch, a glass of plain water, and a split of ginger
ale.“
The waiter looked upset. „Ginger ale, sir? With Scotch?’
„Do you have it or don’t you?“
„Why, yes, of course. But-„
„Then fetch it. I’m not going to drink it; I just want to sneer at it. And bring a
saucer too.“
„As you say, sir.“ He polished the table top. „How about a small steak, sir? Or
the scallops are very good today.“
„Look, mate, I’ll tip you for the scallops if you’ll promise not to serve them. All
I need is what I ordered. . . and don’t forget the saucer.“
He shut up and went away. I told Pete again to take it easy, the Marines had
landed. The waiter returned, his pride appeased by carrying the split of
ginger ale on the saucer. I had him open it while I mixed the Scotch with the
water. „Would you like another glass for the ginger ale, sir?“
„I’m a real buckaroo; I drink it out of the bottle.“
He shut up and let me pay him and lip him, not forgetting a lip for the
scallops. When he had gone I poured ginger ale into the saucer and tapped
on the top of the overnight bag. „Soup’s on, Peter.“
It was unzipped; I never zipped it with him inside. He spread It with his paws,
poked his head out, looked around quickly, then levitated his forequarters
and placed his front feet on the edge of the table. I raised my glass and we
looked at each other. „Here’s to the female race, Pete-find ‚em and forget
‚em!“
He nodded; it matched his own philosophy perfectly. He bent his head
daintily and started lapping up ginger ale. „If you can, that is,“ I added, and
took a deep swig. Pete did not answer. Forgetting a female was no effort to
him; he was the natural-born bachelor type.
Facing me through the window of the bar was a sign that kept changing. First
it would read: WORK WHILE YOU SLEEP. Then it would say: AND DREAM
YOUR TROUBLES AWAY. Then it would flash in letters twice as big:

MUTUAL ASSURANCE COMPANY