"Mike Resnick & David Gerrold - Jellyfish" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

He hated the FBI, for starters. And the police. And all of the other
government agencies he’d had deal-ings with. In fact, he hated anyone who
behaved as an agent of authority, institutional, or otherwise. Two ex-wives.
Lawyers, of course. Several junior high-school bullies. Two college
professors. Three editors, especially the one at Barrister Books. Fans.
Thorbald Helmholtz. Movie studios. And the two guys who wrote that
song—the song in the Horrible Little Chil-dren Ride at Disneyland.

But there was one class of person he hated more than all the others.

So today, there was no question about it. Filk knew who his
protagonist would be.

A science fiction writer.

Hi-ho!

That’s who he wanted to hurt the most. Very much.

Of course.

See?

Best of all, there were so many wonderful tar-gets of opportunity. Kurt
Kazlov, who styled himself as a lecherous old scientist; Toffler Cadbury,
notorious for inflicting his audiences with interminable poems about giant
lustrous whales wailing mournfully in forgotten fabled seas; Zormella
LeFrayne, whose strained literary con-victions had multisexed wizards
dueling to the death (two out of three falls) for control of the Sevagram;
Archibald Manticore, the lyrical guru of love, who with his wife du jour slept
with everybody, married or not; Bug McWhorter, who had never recovered
from the Sixties and fancied himself the literary reincarnation of Donovan
Leitch; Burt Franklin, who had stum-bled into success by recasting the
ageless enmities of nomadic tribes as an epic family feud on an ancient
desert world; Gathermon Grift, who had raised the art of self-promotion to
new depths; Ralph A. McDonell, whose didactic tracts on personal
responsibility had left generations of readers arguing with each other about
what kind of a fascist he really was; Arnold Zink, who wrote salacious
parodies of other authors; Willa Strabismus, who never used a sentence
where several paragraphs would do; Frelff Rondimon, who invented
Scatology, a whole religion based on the idea that everyone and everything
were just so much shit, and had made himself despicably rich in the
process. And the two worst were Kim Kinser, who won a ton of awards
transferring Africa to some alien planet solely so he could deduct his
safaris on his tax returns, and whatsisname, that sissy lit-tle creep who sold
that stupid script to Star Truck while still in college, stealing the oppor-tunity
from a real science fiction writer. All of them were on the short-list.

Plus several hundred others. Filk had a very long short-list.