(The answer is I'm not imitating anyone specifically; I'm simply having flashbacks to Hunter S. Thompson, Tom Wolfe, Harlan Ellison in Tick-Tock mode, and a whole bunch of other writers who fed my gonzo cravings in the late sixties/early seventies. Hee-whack indeed.)
By the way, this is my earliest story featuring a scalpel. Don't ask me why, but scalpels keep popping up all over my writing... scalpels and mutilating corpses. It's a good thing I despise Freudian psychology, or I'd be really, really worried.
Вы читаете The Children of the Crèche
