Писатель: Пучеглазов Василий Яковлевич
Входит в цикл: “THE FOURTH HYPOSTASIS”
Глава в томе: The Fourth Hypostasis (A novel-hagiography) I
Случайный абзац
Jack, who only just came out of the sea, threw his wet flippers on the pebbles and, having snorted, stretched out near, his head on slippery green rubber.
"Philosophy," he responded depreciatingly. "Scope of reason."
"Better dope," Jack joked. "And material one. In your place I would crawl under the awning before the skin peeled off."
Nevertheless, he was pretty roasted in the sun, as it became clear during the lunch meal in the "Cheburechnaya" discovered by their landing party: it felt like his shoulders were on fire, and the shirt, for all its lightness, was rubbing irritatingly against the sensitive burning skin, while his itchy back was reminding him of an overheated frying pan; but the crispy chebureki, golden with melted butter, flowing on fractures with the juice of a lump of minced beef stewed inside, together with their half-liter faceted mugs full of the frothy cold dark beer from the damp huge barrel standing in the corner behind the buffet counter, where, in front of the feasting audience, the local hairy stocky bartender with an impressive crimson nose was hammering a wooden spigot into its wooden bottom and screwing the vertical metal tube with a tap into the hole of the paunchy beer vessel filled to capacity, which they rolled up hither by joint efforts-in short, all this bountiful feast with dozens of sizzling chebureki towering on the plates and with an effervescent spurt gushing from the beer tap into the weighty glass mugs-distracted him very soon from his philosophizing and from the consequences of his "sun-baths", considering that they gormandized with gusto and without haste, having a sufficiency of not yet splurged cash; and in their gluttony, they had stuffed themselves with such delicacies until absolute immobility, so after their repast, having bought up grape Lady Finger in some side road stall on the way back, they relished it while lying under the bushes, plucking its elongated translucently-emerald berries and bringing the grapes to their mouths with truly patrician satiety.
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