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

"Yes. How did you know?"

"The suit. Always tell by the suit." The fat man closed his eyes and
chanted, "Step up, step up and kill a woman! Get rid of a load of
repressions! Squeeze the trigger and feel the old anger ooze out of you!
Better than a massage! Better than getting drunk! Step up, step up and kill
a woman!"

Simon asked on of the girls, "Do you stay dead when they kill you?"

"Don't be stupid," the girl said.

"But the shock - "

She shrugged her shoulders. "I could do worse."

Simon was about to ask how she could do worse, when the manager leaned
over the counter, speaking confidentially.

"Look, buddy. Look what I got here."

Simon glanced over the counter, and saw a compact sub-machine gun.

"For a ridiculously low price," the manager said, "I'll let you use the
tommy. You can spray the whole place, shoot down the fixtures, rip up the
walls. This drives a .45 slug, buddy, and it kicks like a mule. You really
know you're firing when you fire the tommy."

"I am not interested," Simon said sternly.

"I've got a grenade or two," the manager said. "Fragmentation, of
course. You could really-"

"No!"

"For a price," the manager said, "you can shoot me, too, if that's how
your tastes run, although I wouldn't have guessed it. What do you say?"

"No! Never! This is horrible!"

The manager looked at him blankly. "Not in the mood now? OK. I'm open
twenty- four hours a day. See you later, sport."

"Never!" Simon said, walking away.

"Be expecting you, lover!" one of the women called after him.