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

into his truck and closed the door.


Hippie? Theo thought. Hippie? He'd cut his ponytail years ago. He'd
stopped wearing Birkenstocks. He'd even stopped smoking pot.
Where did this guy get off calling him a hippie?


Hippie? he said to himself, then: "Hey!"


Dale started his truck and put it into gear.


Theo stepped up on the running board, leaned over the windshield,
and started tapping on it with a quarter he'd fished from his jeans
pocket. "Don't leave, Dale." Tap, tap, tap. "You leave now, I'll put a
warrant out for your arrest." Tap, tap, tap. Theo was pissed now —
he was sure of it. Yes, this was definitely anger now.


Dale threw the truck into park and hit the electric window button.
"What? What do you want?"
"Lena wants to press charges for assault — maybe assault with a
deadly weapon. I think you'd better rethink leaving right now."


"Deadly weapon? It was a bag of ice."


Theo shook his head, affected a whimsical storyteller's tone: "A
ten-pound bag of ice. Listen, Dale, as I drop a ten-pound block of ice
on the courtroom floor in front of the jury. Can you hear it? Can't
you just see the jury cringe as I smash a honeydew melon on the
defense attorney's table with a ten-pound block of ice? Not a deadly
weapon? 'Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this man, this
reprobate, this redneck, this — if I may —
clump-filled-cat-box-of-a-man, struck a defenseless woman — a
woman who out of the kindness of her heart was collecting for the
poor, a woman who was only — "


"But it's not a block of ice, it's — "


Theo raised a finger in the air. "Not another word, Dale, not until I
read you your rights." Theo could tell he was getting to Dale — veins
were starting to pulse in the contractor's temples and his bald head
was turning bright pink. Hippie, huh? "Lena is definitely pressing
charges, aren't you, Lena?"