"Ian Watson & Roberto Quaglia - Beloved Vampire of the Blood Comet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watson Ian)

brave spacesuited astronauts still sat holding their helmets, each in his or her own stretch-golf-buggy.
Gantry and shuttle with booster rockets towered high overhead, dwarfing the armour-ship which slumped
slightly as if relaxing. Towards the bottom of the Gothic spaceship, a big plate hinged open.

Already the presidential limo was speeding towards the landing site, secret service agents clinging to the
sides, police motorbikes accompanying. TV crews raced after the limo.

Down from that doorway in the armour jumped a person dressed in a bear skin with a few big buttons.
He had long ringlets of brown hair and a long nose curving over big moustaches. The person staggered
because of gravity then drew himself upright.

Zoom-mikes picked up Vlad Tsepesh’s voice—which Silviu translated for me, him being fluent in
medieval Romanian and many other languages – as he bellowed triumphantly at the seated NASA
astronauts:

“I bring news that the Milky Way is not a milky way… but the Bloody Way… I bring news of many
blood comets… Hmm, he says many planets are made of flesh… The more you approach the center of
the galaxy, the more often the planets are made of flesh… Old-fashioned non-flesh planets are still a
majority only in the periphery of the galaxy, where things happen more slowly and evolution is retarded…
Planets are converted to living flesh because of nano-viruses… in a cosmic war between Flesh and
Machines… The pressure of shit accumulating inside a living planet often explodes it… Asteroids are
haemorrhoids… Vampire life is generally far more common in the universe than the human sort of life…
My dove, these are remarkable discoveries. This fully explains the frozen blood lake on the Moon!”

The limo arrived before Vlad could declare more remarkable facts about the cosmos. The car doors
opened. The eyes of the world were upon George Bush. He couldn’t go on holiday this time. No more
New Orleans. Followed by several advisers, he had little choice but to advance, holding out his hand to
Vlad Tsepesh, though he could have little idea who Vlad was, even if Vlad bore a certain resemblance to
Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. Vlad also looked a bit like Osama bin Laden (though not so
soulful and dewy-eyed), but George Bush had seen too many fake videos of Osama bin Laden produced
by the CIA to recognize the leader of Al Qaida, if Al Qaida actually existed.

Vlad glanced up at the towering space shuttle pointing at the sky.

“You impale big,” Silviu translated for me. “But I impale more.”

There was a swaggering braggadocio about the vampire commander.




Bravely, or stupidly, George Bush decided to embrace Vlad in the French fashion since evidently he was
a foreigner.

Vlad promptly sank his vampire teeth into the President’s neck, sucked for a while, then exclaimed in
medieval Romanian (as translated by Silviu), “God, I was thirsty.”

Whereupon he spun George Bush around and pulled down his trousers and polka-dot underpants.
Obviously Vlad wished to assert himself. The thrust of his penis poking through the bear skin lifted
George Bush a little into the air, and not by levitation.