«Не смейся над Маммой, пожалйуста, дарвалдая, ведь она единственная у меня осталась на сем свете, да кроме того, твоя-то мамаша тож изрядная карга, — сказал Иезус. — А коли она доберется сюда заживо, мы сможем закалить пир в ее честь, и потом она увидит всех нашенских гадких шотволынских дружков», — размышлял он. «Из другой страны, так что мы завсегда сможем использовать ее как пугало на огороде», — добавила практичная Патрик.
Итак, они упаковали чембохданы, помеченные «евонный» и «ейный», и отправились наверх, к своему хозяину в горки.
«Вот мы и дома, сэр», — сказал Иезус, обращаясь к иссохшей сморканной фигурке, заключенной близ овечьей шкурвы.
«Отчего вы вернулись так скоро?» — поинтересовался Морд, мгновенно узнавая своих слуг путем многолетней практики.
«Я получил про хилые бестии про мою матрешку, — она совирается навострить меня, если вы позвоните, сэр». Морд подумал с минуту, и лицо его засияло, как назревший прыщ.
«Вы все уволены», — улыбнулся он и ушел, насвистывая.
Jesus El Pifco was a foreigner and he knew it. He had imigrateful from his little white slum in Barcelover a good thirsty year ago having first secured the handy job as coachman in Scotland. The job was with the Laird of McAnus, a canny old tin whom have a castle in the Highlads. The first thing Jesus EI Pifco noticed in early the days was that the Laird didn't seem to have a coach of any discription or even a coach house you know, much to his dismable. But — and I use the word lightly — the Laird did seem to having some horses, each one sporting a fine pair of legs. Jesus fell in love with them at first sight, as they did with him, which was lucky, because his quarters were in the actually stables along side his noble four lepered friends.
Pretty polly one could see Jesus almost every day, grooming his masters horses, brushing their manebits and hammering their teeth, whistling a quaint Spanish refrain dreaming of his loved wombs back home in their little white fascist bastard huts.
«A well pair of groomed horses I must say,» he would remark to wee Spastic Sporran the flighty chamberlain, whom he'd had his good eye on eversince Hogmanose.
«Nae sa bad» she would answer in her sliced Aberdeen-martin accent. «Ye spend more time wi» yon horses than ye do wi' me,' with that she would storm back to her duties, carefully tying her chastity negro hardly to her skim.
Being a good catholic, Jesus wiped the spit from his face and turned the other cheese — but she had gone leaving him once small in an agatha of christy.
