"Laymon, Richard - The Traveling Vampire Show" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laymon Richard)

I shrugged. "I'll take care of it."

"Oh, yeah? Good luck."

He said it sarcastically, but I answered, "Thanks" and got to my feet.
I stepped to the edge of the roof. Knees almost touching the back of
the BEER SNACKS--SOUVENIRS sign, I bent forward and looked down.

The dog, sitting, suddenly sprang at me and slammed against the
shack.

"I think it's a moron," I announced.

"Do you have a plan or something?" Slim asked.

"Not exactly."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

I looked around at her, feeling a nice warmth. "Thanks," I told her.
Sitting up, Rusty said, "It's gonna have your ass, man."

The dog again threw itself at the shack, bounced off and fell to the
dust.

I gave the sign a nudge with my knee. Though it felt sturdy, it was
nailed to the roof on wooden braces made of two-by-fours. With a
little effort, I could probably kick one of the braces apart and have
myself a dub--maybe with a few nails sticking out.

Only one problem.

When you're my dad's son, you don't go around destroying other people's
property. Not even a crummy sign on a closed snack stand in Janks
Field.

It's not only wrong, it's illegal.

If Dad ever found out that a son of his had kicked apart someone else's
sign in order to make himself a club in order to beat the crap out of a
stray dog .... "What're you doing?" Rusty asked.

"Nothing."

"Want help?" he asked.

A laugh flew out of Slim, but then she groaned.

"You okay?" I asked her.