"Christopher Moore - Island of the Sequined Love Nun" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore Christopher)

sign turning off.
Welcome to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. The focal time is 2:00
A.M., the outside temperature is 63 degrees, there is a semiconscious hooker
gurgling at your feet.
The cabin fills with black smoke from fried wires and vaporized hydraulic
fluid. One breath burns down his windpipe like drain cleaner, telling Tucker
that a second breath may kill him. He unfastens the harness and reaches into
the dark for Meadow, connecting with her lace camisole, which comes away in
shreds in his hands. He stands, bends over, wraps an arm around her waist, and
picks her up. She's light, maybe a hundred pounds, but Tucker has forgotten to
pull up his pants and Jockey shorts, which cuff his ankles. He teeters and
falls backward onto the control console between the pilot seats. Jutting from
the console is the flap actuator lever, a foot-long strip of steel topped by a
plastic arrowhead-like tip. The tip catches Tuck in the rear of the scrotum.
His and Meadow's combined weight drive him down on the lever, which tears
through his scrotum, runs up inside the length of his penis, and emerges in a
spray of blood.
There are no words for the pain. No breath, no thought. Just deafening
white and red noise. Tucker feels himself passing out and welcomes it. He
drops Meadow, but she is conscious enough to hold on to his neck, and as she
falls she pulls him off the lever, which reams its way back through him again.
Without realizing it, he is standing, breathing. His lungs are on fire.
He has to get out. He throws an arm around Meadow and drags her three feet to
the hatch. He releases the hatch and it swings down, half open. It's designed
to function as a stairway to the ground, designed for a plane that is standing
on landing gear. Gloved hands reach into the opening and start pulling at it.
"We're going to get you out of there," a fireman says.
The hatch comes open with a shriek. Tuck sees blue and red flashing
lights illuminating raindrops against a black sky, making it appear as if it
is raining fire. He takes a single breath of fresh air, says, "I've torn off
my dick," and falls forward.


3

And You Lost Your Frequent Flyer Miles

As with most things in his life, Tucker Case was wrong about the extent
of his injuries. As they wheeled him through the emergency room, he continued
to chant, "I've torn off my dick! I've torn off my dick!" into his oxygen mask
until a masked physician appeared at his side.
"Mr. Case, you have not torn off your penis. You've damaged some major
blood vessels and some of the erectal tissue. And you've also severed the
tendon that runs from the tip of the penis to the base of the brain." The
doctor, a woman, pulled down her mask long enough to show Tucker a grin. "You
should be fine. We're taking you into surgery now."
"What about the girl?"
"She's got a mild concussion and some bruises, but she'll be okay. She'll
probably go home in a few hours."
"That's good. Doc, will I be able to? I mean, will I ever...?"