Испалец в колесе (сборник на русском и английском): читать книгу онлайн полностью и бесплатно

One date Araminta rose up out of her duffle bed, larfing as usual with that insage larf peojle had come to know her form.

«Hee! hee! hee!» She larfed all the way down to breakfart.

«Hee! hee! hee!» She gurgled over the morman papiers.

«Hee! hee! hee!» Continude Araminta on the buzz to wirk.

This pubbled the passages and condoctor equally both. «Why is that boot larfing all the time?» Inqueered an elderberry passengeorge who trabelled regularge on that roof and had a write to know.

«I bet nobody knows why I am always larfing.» Said Araminta to herself privately, to herself. «They would dearly love to know why I am always larfing like this to myselve privately to myselve. I bet some peoble would really like to know.» She was right, off course, lots of peotle would.

Araminta Ditch had a boyfred who could never see the joke. «As long as she's happy,» he said. He was a good man. «Pray tell me, Araminta, why is it that you larf so readily. Yeaye, but I am sorly troubled sometimes when thy larfter causes sitch tribulation and embarresment amongst my family and elders.» Araminta would larf alI the more at an outburp like this, even to the point of hysteriffs. «Hee! hee! hee!» She would scream as if possessed by the very double himself.

«That Araminta Ditch will have to storp orl these larfing; she will definitely have to storp it. I will go crazy if she don't storp it.» This was the large voice of her goodly neighbore, Mrs Cramsby, who lived right next door and looked after the cats whilst Araminta was at work. «Takes a good deal of looking after these cat when she's at work — and that's nothing to larf about!»

The whole street had beginning to worry about Araminta's larfter. Why? hadn't she been larfing and living there for nyebevan thirty years, continually larfing hee! hee! and annoying them? They began to hold meters to see what could be done — after all they had to live with her hadn't they? It was them who had to always keep hearing her inane larftor. At one such meetinge they deciple to call on the help of Aramintas' boyfiend who was called Richard (sometimes Richard the Turd, but thats another story). «Well I dont know dear friends,» said Richard, who hated them all. This was at the second meetink!

Obvouslieg samting hed tow be doon — and quickly. Aramintas' face was spreading aboon the country, peochle fram all walks of leg began to regarden her with a certain insight left.

«What canon I do that would quell this mirth what is gradu-, ally drying me to drink, have I not bespoken to her often, betting her to cease, threatling — cajolson — arsking, pleases stop this larftor Araminta. I am at the end of my leather — my cup kenneth conner,» Richard say. The people of the street mubbered in agreement, what could he do? He was foing his vest. «We will ask the Vicar,» said Mrs Crambsey, «Surely he can exercise it out of her?» The peodle agreed — «Surely the Vicar can do it if anybotty can.» The Vicar smiled a funny little smile wholst the goo people splained the troumer. When they had had finished speaching he rose up grandly from his barthchair and said loud and clear «What do you mean exactly?» The peodle sighed an slowlies started to start again telling him about the awful case of Araminta's larfing.

«You mean she just keeps larfing fer no a parent season?» he said brightly. «Yess that's it fazackerly Vicar,» said Richard, «morning noon and nige, always larfing like a mad thin.» The Vicar looked up from his knitting and opened. his mouths.

«Something will have to be done about that girl larfing all the time. It's not right.»

«I really doughnut see that it is any concervative of thiers whether i larf or nament,» sighed Araminta over a lengthy victim. «The trifle with the peomle around here is that they have forgoden how, I repeat, how to larf, reverend, that's what I think anyhow.»

She was of corset talking to the extremely reverend LIONEL HUGHES. She had gone to see him in case he could help her in any small way, considering he was always spouting off about helping peouple she thought she'd give him a try as it were. «What can I say my dear, I mean what can I say?» Araminta looked at the holy fink with disbelief. «What do you mean — what can I say — don't ask me what to say. I cam here to ask you for help and you have the audacidacidity to ask me what to say — is that all you have to say?» she yellowed. «I know exactly how you feel Samantha, I had a cousin the same way, couldn't see a thin without his glasgows.»

Araminta stood up in a kind of suit, she picked up her own mongels and ran seriously out of the room. «No wonder he only gets three in on Sunday!» she exclaimed to a small group of wellwishers.

A year or more passedover with no changei in Araminta's strange larfing. «Hee! hee! hee!» she went drivan herself and everone around her insane. THERE SEEMED NO END TO THE PROBLEM. This went on for eighty years until Araminta died larfing. This did not help her neighbers much. They had all died first, — which was one of the many things that Araminta died larfing off.

Сапогивсмятку

Сколько, я спрашиваю, сколько раз я предупреждал всех насчет моего телефона? Так вот, это случилось опять! Опять я не смог дозвониться до своей тетушки Бесст, и опять чуть было не лишился своей знаменитой колонки в газете с моим собственным портретом, и все из-за энтих проклятых телефонистов! ВЫ знаете, как я ненавижу этих проклятых телефонистов! Вы же все меня знаете. ТРИДЦАТЬ ДВА раза я пытался пробиться со своей знаменитой колонкой, и тридцать два раза получал в ответ: «Асслабади линию, ты, скучный старый пердун!» Когда я поведал об этом паре-тройке своих коллег, они даже не могли поверить мне; в самом деле, разве я не пишу одно и то же вот уже шестьдесят лет? Вы же все меня знаете…

Скольких еще ублюдков, этих сальных, тупых, вонючих, глухих орангутангов, изображающих из себя артистов, с их ПЛОСКОВЕРХИМИ прическами. Валяющихся тут и там на сцене, как МЭРИ ПИКФОРД, мне придется терпеть? Как я понимаю, годик-другой армейской службы исправил бы их, а мы б избавились от нескольких лишних капиталистических подпевал (УУУХ!). Просто не выношу капитализма, не понимаю, как всякие посредственности делают такую прорву денег, причем несмотря на меня и на наше правительство, и это в нашем-то обществе, где наш талант все равно не замолчать.

Знаю, что я старый лысый очкастый хрен (СМОТРИ КАРТИНКУ). Может, я должен кому-то быть за что-то благодарен, но, право, сомневаюсь…

Икру для меня специально добывают в Голливуде. Помните, я обедал как-то с этим супер-понтовым мажором, этим Майком 9 (Вокруг Светы за Восемьдесят дней, покойным) Тодди? Так вот, он просто обожал икру (жрал прямо огромными банками) и искренне считал, что все отставные-порочные тоже обожают ее, а если нет, то обязаны, черт подери (УУУХ!). Вы же все меня знаете, и я ее не люблю, и веду сам с собою (частенько) ожесточенную словесную баталию на предмет того, должон ли я, помимо собственной воли принуждать себя есть этот дорогостоящий деликотсос из Каспийского моря? Подчас я проигрываю борьбу, но это, друзья, и есть социализм. (вы же все меня знаете).

Майк (Вокруг Скелета в Длинном Каноэ, покойный) Тодди, несомненно, понял бы меня.

Полагаю, многие из вас не имели даже возможности отказаться от сего дорогостоящего деликавеса. Поверьте, друзья, вам такая возможность и не светит, пока мы будем продолжать изготовлять все эти бомбы…

Итак, до завтра, друзья, завтра я (ВЫ ЖЕ ВСЕ МЕНЯ ЗНАЕТЕ) снова вернусь. С той же самой картинкой, но с ДРУГИМИ ЦИТАТАМИ, братцы.

Доброго вам всем дня (как я понимаю).

Cassandle

How many times have I warned you all about my telephone? Well it happened again! Once more I couldn't get through to my Aunty Besst, and yet again I nearly didn't get my famous column with a picture of me inset through those damn blasted operators! YOU know how I hate those damn blasted operators. You all know me. THIRTY TWO times I tried to get through with my famous column and thirty two times I was told to 'Gerroff the line yer borein' owld gassbag!' When I told a colleague or two, they couldn't not believe it, after all hadn't I been writing the same thing for sixty years? You all know me…