"Robert Sheckley. Pilgrimage to Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора

He wanted to go in. But across the street was a war film. The billboard
shouted, THE SUN BUSTERS! DEDICATED TO THE DAREDEVILS OF THE SPACE MARINES!
And further down was a picture called TARZAN BATTLES THE SATURNIAN GHOULS!

Tarzan, he recalled from his reading, was an ancient ethnic hero of
Earth.

It was all wonderful, but there was so much more! He saw little open
shops where one could buy food of all worlds, and especially such native
Terran dishes as pizza, hotdogs, spaghetti and knishes. And there were
stores which sold surplus clothing from the Terran spacefleets, and other
stores which sold nothing but beverages.

Simon didn't know what to do first. Then he heard a staccato burst of
gunfire behind him, and whirled.

It was only a shooting gallery, a long, narrow, brightly painted place
with a waist-high counter. The manager, a swarthy fat man with a mole on
his chin sat on a high stool and smiled at Simon.

"Try your luck?"

Simon walked over and saw that, instead of the usual targets, there
were four scantily dressed women at the end of the gallery, seated upon
bullet-scored chairs. They had tiny bull-eyes painted on their foreheads
and above each breast.

"But do you fire real bullets?" Simon asked.

"Of course!" the manager said. "There is a law against false
advertising on Earth. Real bullets and real gals! Step up and knock one
off!"

One of the women called out, "Come on, sport! Bet you miss me!"

Another screamed, "He couldn't hit the broad side of a spaceship!"

"Sure he can!" another shouted. "Come on, sport!"

Simon rubbed his forehead and tried not to act surprised. After all,
this was Earth, where anything was allowed as long as it was commercially
feasible.

He asked, "Are there galleries where you shoot men, too?"

"Of course," the manager said. "But you ain't no pervert, are you?"

"Certainly not!"

"You an outworlder?"