"Christopher Moore - The Stupidest Angel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore Christopher)

"You know what, Theo? I really don't want to spend another
Christmas obsessing on what a complete waste of humanity Dale
Pearson is. I'd rather let it go. Maybe if we're lucky he'll be one of
those holiday fatalities we're always hearing about"


"That would be nice," said Theo.


"Now who's in the Christmas spirit?"


***


In another Christmas story, Dale Pearson, evil developer,
self-absorbed woman hater, and seemingly unredeemable
curmudgeon, might be visited in the night by a series of ghosts who,
by showing him bleak visions of Christmas future, past, and present,
would bring about in him a change to generosity, kindness, and a
general warmth toward his fellow man But this is not that kind of
Christmas story, so here, in not too many pages, someone is going to
dispatch the miserable son of a bitch with a shovel. That's the spirit
of Christmas yet to come in these parts. Ho, ho, ho.
 Chapter 2


THE LOCAL GIRLS HAVE A WAY ABOUT THEM


The Warrior Babe of the Outland steered her Honda station wagon
down Cypress Street, stopping every ten feet or so for tourists who
were stepping into the street from between parked cars, completely
oblivious of any automobile traffic. My kingdom for a razor-blade
cowcatcher and Cuisinart wheel covers to cut my path through this
herd of ignorant peasant meat, she thought. Then: Whoa, I guess I
really do need the meds. So she said, "They act like Cypress Street is
the midway at Disneyland — like no one actually has to use the street
to drive on. You guys wouldn't do that, would you?"


She glanced over her shoulder at the two damp teenage boys who
were huddled in the corner of the backseat of the car. They shook
their heads furiously. One said, "No, Miss Michon, no we'd never.
No."


Her real name was Molly Michon, but years ago, as a B-movie
queen, she'd done eight movies as Kendra, Warrior Babe of the
Outland. She had a wild mane of blond hair shot with gray and the