"Mike Resnick - Mrs. Hood Unloads" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

lawyer instead of just a policeman. My son the criminal gives away
more in a week that her son makes in a year.
You heard _what_, Mrs. Noodleman? You heard him say that he
moved to Sherwood Forest because he went off to the Crusades and
came back to find out he wasn't the Lord of the Manor? Well, of
course he wasn't the Lord of the Manor! Was my late husband, Mr.
Hood, God rest his soul, the Lord of the Manor? Are my brothers
Nate and Jake the Lords of the Manor? Probably ten thousand boys
came home and found they weren't Lords of the Manor -- but did
_they_ go live in the forest and rob their mother's friends?
He was an apprentice blacksmith, that's what he was. He
probably made up all this Lord of the Manor stuff to impress that
_shikse_ Marian.
And while I'm thinking of it, what's all this _Maid_ Marian
talk? She doesn't look like a maid to _me_.
Not so fast, Mrs. Noodleman. I have a flower, so I get an
extra tile.
Anyway, you work and you slave, and what does it get you?
Your son runs off to the forest and starts wearing a _yarmulkah_
with a feather in it, that's what.
And look who he runs around with -- a bunch of merry men! I
don't know if I can bear the shame! just wish I knew what I ever
did to make God hate me so much.
Thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Grobnik, but you just
can't imagine what it's like. I try to raise him with proper
values, and look how it all turns out -- he's dating this Marian
person, and his closest friend is a priest, Friar someone-or-
other.
Oh, it's not? Now his best friend is Little John? Well, I
don't want to be the one to gossip, but the stable girl told me
what's so little about _him_.
_Chow_, Mrs. Noodleman. I lost track -- whose turn is it now?
So he comes by last Thursday, and he gives me these tiles,
and he says he can only stay for five minutes because the
Sheriff's men are after him, and he gulps his _gefilte_ fish down,
and I notice he's looking thin, so I ask him if he's getting his
greens, and he gives me that look, and he says Ma, of course I'm
getting my greens, I live in a forest. So sue me, I say, better I
should just sit here in the dark and never even mention that
you're too skinny because you never come by for dinner unless the
Sheriff's men are watching your hide-in.
Hide-out, hide-in, what's the difference, Mrs. Katz? At least
_your_ son comes by for dinner every Sunday. The only time I know
I'll see _my_ son is when I go to the post office, and there's his
picture hanging on the wall.
_Oy!_ You're showing four white dragons, Mrs. Noodleman! You
see? I _knew_ God hated me!
And he says the next time he comes by -- if I haven't died of
old age and neglect by then -- he's going to bring his gang with
him. And I say not without a week's notice, and that I'm not