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

a satchel of minicubes. Five of the six merely missed a step or
gasped, but Georgia Bauman — who had her treadmill cranked up
to eight miles per hour at that very moment, because she was trying
to lose fifteen pounds by Christmas and fit into a red-sequined
sheath cocktail dress her husband had bought for her in a fit of
sexual idealism — bowled backward off her treadmill and landed in
a colorful spandex tangle of yoga students who had been practicing
on the mats behind her.
"Ow, my ass chakra!"


"That's you're root chakra."


"Feels like my ass."


"Did you see that? He nearly knocked her off her feet. Poor thing."


"Should we see if she's all right?"


"Someone should call Theo."


The exercisers opened their cell phones in unison, like the Jets
flicking switchblades as they gaily danced into a West Side Story
gang-fight to the death.


"Why did she ever marry that guy, anyway?"


"He's such an asshole."


"She used to drink."


"Georgia, are you all right, honey?"


"Can you get Theo by calling 911?"
"That bastard is just going to drive off and leave her there "


"We should go help."