"Date of publication 2083 AD" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morrison William)

remember that time Mrs. Gallaher was over at the Munros'. You would have thought
that woman was a poor delicate fragile little flower who had to be tenderly
cared for. Whereas we all know she has the strength of a horse. Looks a little
like one too. What any man can see in her ...
"Why, hello, Mrs. Gamber," she said as they entered the Munro house. "I was
hoping so much that we'd find you and your husband here again this evening.
Clara said that you were afraid you wouldn't be able to get out. How is little
Elsie?"
"Much better, thank you."
So much for formal politeness. Bill, of course, was all set to treat her with
his usual tenderness when Clara Munro said, "They have the most wonderful
program on tonight. Let's look at it for a while."
Carrie didn't mind at all. At least looking at the screen would keep Bill from
worrying too much about Mrs. Gamber. Although, goodness knows, if they had meant
to watch television they might just as well have stayed home with their own son.

But Clara was right about one thing. The program was wonderful —unexpectedly
wonderful.
The master of ceremonies came out and announced the famous personalities he was
going to display within the next few minutes, and then there were the usual
commercials and after that the first dramatic sketch. It was a love scene
between the current great lover and a very famous leading lady. It would have
brought tears to the most callous viewer's eyes. Only ...

Only, the great lover suddenly became an exact duplicate of Bill, and the
leading lady was Mrs. Gamber. Carrie rubbed her eyes but that was how they
looked. Then she stared around at Bill and Mrs. Gamber then in the room with
her, then at Clara Munro and the others. No one seemed to see anything strange.
She felt that she couldn't stand it. At the most tender moment her fists
clenched and she found herself standing up. "Stop it!" she shouted.
The great lover, who looked like Bill, seemed to turn and look right at her. And
then the telephone rang and he no longer looked like Bill at all. He wore a
six-shooter and a ten-gallon hat and chaps and spurs. He answered the phone, and
said, "Them diamond-backed owl-hoots are raiding the Bar-B spread, pardner, down
in Red-Eye Gulch. Gotta act fast to stop them, pardner.
Carrie's eyes opened wide. The tone was caressing, full of tender passion. But
the words . . .
The leading lady had changed too. She no longer looked like Mrs. Gamber. She
replied happily, "If we spur our bosses, pardner, we can ambush them galoots at
Bald-eagle Pass. Shake a leg, pardner, and we'll lam them rattlers a lesson
they'll never furgit."
The scene blacked out. After a second or two a perspiring master of ceremonies
appeared and stammered, "Ladies and gentlemen, due to technical difficulties
beyond our control we—er—cannot bring you the rest of this touching love scene.
However, I know you'll just love our next attraction, a juggling act by that
famous foursome, the Juggling Jugheads."
Everything that the Juggling Jug-heads touched seemed to be under a curse. It
dropped—dropped and shattered. Carrie had never been part of such an embarrassed
audience. It was the most painful thing, outside of seeing Bill and Mrs. Gamber,
that she had ever witnessed.