-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Кен Кизи
-
- Пролетая над гнездом кукушки
-
- Стр. 170/246
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
sun
was
prying
up
the
clouds
and
lighting
the
brick
front
of
the
hospital
rose
bed
.
A
thin
breeze
worked
at
sawing
what
leaves
were
left
from
the
oak
trees
,
stacking
them
neatly
against
the
wire
cyclone
fence
.
There
was
little
brown
birds
occasionally
on
the
fence
;
when
a
puff
of
leaves
would
hit
the
fence
the
birds
would
fly
off
with
the
wind
.
It
looked
at
first
like
the
leaves
were
hitting
the
fence
and
turning
into
birds
and
flying
away
.
It
was
a
fine
woodsmoked
autumn
day
,
full
of
the
sound
of
kids
punting
footballs
and
the
putter
of
small
airplanes
,
and
everybody
should
've
been
happy
just
being
outside
in
it
.
But
we
all
stood
in
a
silent
bunch
with
our
hands
in
our
pockets
while
the
doctor
walked
to
get
his
car
.
A
silent
bunch
,
watching
the
townspeople
who
were
driving
past
on
their
way
to
work
slow
down
to
gawk
at
all
the
loonies
in
green
uniforms
.
McMurphy
saw
how
uneasy
we
were
and
tried
to
work
us
into
a
better
mood
by
joking
and
teasing
the
girl
,
but
this
made
us
feel
worse
somehow
.
Everybody
was
thinking
how
easy
it
would
be
to
return
to
the
ward
,
go
back
and
say
they
decided
the
nurse
had
been
right
;
with
a
wind
like
this
the
sea
would
've
been
just
too
rough
.
The
doctor
arrived
and
we
loaded
up
and
headed
off
,
me
and
George
and
Harding
and
Billy
Bibbit
in
the
car
with
McMurphy
and
the
girl
,
Candy
;
and
Fredrickson
and
Sefelt
and
Scanlon
and
Martini
and
Tadem
and
Gregory
following
in
the
doctor
's
car
.
Everyone
was
awfully
quiet
.
We
pulled
into
a
gas
station
about
a
mile
from
the
hospital
;
the
doctor
followed
.
He
got
out
first
,
and
the
service-station
man
came
bouncing
out
,
grinning
and
wiping
his
hands
on
a
rag
.
Then
he
stopped
grinning
and
went
past
the
doctor
to
see
just
what
was
in
these
cars
.
He
backed
off
,
wiping
his
hands
on
the
oily
rag
,
frowning
.
The
doctor
caught
the
man
's
sleeve
nervously
and
took
out
a
ten-dollar
bill
and
tucked
it
down
in
the
man
's
hands
like
setting
out
a
tomato
plant
.
"
Ah
,
would
you
fill
both
tanks
with
regular
?
"
the
doctor
asked
.
He
was
acting
just
as
uneasy
about
being
out
of
the
hospital
as
the
rest
of
us
were
.
"
Ah
,
would
you
?
"
"
Those
uniforms
,
"
the
service-station
man
said
,
"
they
're
from
the
hospital
back
up
the
road
,
are
n't
they
?
"
He
was
looking
around
him
to
see
if
there
was
a
wrench
or
something
handy
.
He
finally
moved
over
near
a
stack
of
empty
pop
bottles
.
"
You
guys
are
from
that
asylum
.
"
The
doctor
fumbled
for
his
glasses
and
looked
at
us
too
,
like
he
'd
just
noticed
the
uniforms
.
"
Yes
.
No
,
I
mean
.
We
,
they
are
from
the
asylum
,
but
they
are
a
work
crew
,
not
inmates
,
of
course
not
.
A
work
crew
.
"
The
man
squinted
at
the
doctor
and
at
us
and
went
off
to
whisper
to
his
partner
,
who
was
back
among
the
machinery
.
They
talked
a
minute
,
and
the
second
guy
hollered
and
asked
the
doctor
who
we
were
and
the
doctor
repeated
that
we
were
a
work
crew
,
and
both
of
the
guys
laughed
.
I
could
tell
by
the
laugh
that
they
'd
decided
to
sell
us
the
gas
--
probably
it
would
be
weak
and
dirty
and
watered
down
and
cost
twice
the
usual
price
--
but
it
did
n't
make
me
feel
any
better
.
I
could
see
everybody
was
feeling
pretty
bad
.
The
doctor
's
lying
made
us
feel
worse
than
ever
--
not
because
of
the
lie
,
so
much
,
but
because
of
the
truth
.
