-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Стивен Кинг
-
- Зеленая миля
-
- Стр. 129/304
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
No
you
fool
!
"
Brutal
yelled
,
but
Percy
paid
no
attention
.
Just
as
Mr.
Jingles
reached
the
spool
--
too
intent
on
it
to
realize
his
old
enemy
was
at
hand
--
Percy
brought
the
sole
of
one
hard
black
workshoe
down
on
him
.
There
was
an
audible
snap
as
Mr.
Jingles
's
back
broke
,
and
blood
gushed
from
his
mouth
.
His
tiny
black
eyes
bulged
in
their
sockets
,
and
in
them
I
read
an
expression
of
surprised
agony
that
was
all
too
human
.
Delacroix
screamed
with
horror
and
grief
.
He
threw
himself
at
the
door
of
his
cell
and
thrust
his
arms
out
through
the
bars
,
reaching
as
far
as
he
could
,
crying
the
mouse
's
name
over
and
over
.
Percy
turned
toward
him
,
smiling
.
Toward
me
and
Brutal
,
as
well
.
"
There
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
knew
I
'd
get
him
,
sooner
or
later
.
just
a
matter
of
time
,
really
.
"
He
turned
and
walked
back
up
the
Green
Mile
,
leaving
Mr.
Jingles
lying
on
the
linoleum
,
his
spreading
blood
red
over
green
.
Dean
got
up
from
the
duty
desk
,
hitting
the
side
of
it
with
his
knee
and
knocking
the
cribbage
board
to
the
floor
.
The
pegs
spilled
out
of
their
holes
and
rolled
in
all
directions
.
Neither
Dean
nor
Harry
,
who
had
been
just
about
to
go
out
,
paid
the
slightest
attention
to
the
overturn
of
the
game
.
"
What
'd
you
do
this
time
?
"
Dean
shouted
at
Percy
.
"
What
the
hell
'd
you
do
this
time
,
you
stoopnagel
?
"
Percy
did
n't
answer
.
He
strode
past
the
desk
without
saying
a
word
,
patting
his
hair
with
his
fingers
.
He
went
through
my
office
and
into
the
storage
shed
.
William
Wharton
answered
for
him
.
"
Boss
Dean
?
I
think
what
he
did
was
teach
a
certain
french-fry
it
ai
n't
smart
to
laugh
at
him
,
"
he
said
,
and
then
began
to
laugh
himself
.
It
was
a
good
laugh
,
a
country
laugh
,
cheery
and
deep
.
There
were
people
I
met
during
that
period
of
my
life
(
very
scary
people
,
for
the
most
part
)
who
only
sounded
normal
when
they
laughed
.
Wild
Bill
Wharton
was
one
of
those
.
I
looked
down
at
the
mouse
again
,
stunned
.
It
was
still
breathing
,
but
there
were
little
minute
beads
of
blood
caught
in
the
filaments
of
its
whiskers
,
and
a
dull
glaze
was
creeping
over
its
previously
brilliant
oildrop
eyes
.
Brutal
picked
up
the
colored
spool
,
looked
at
it
,
then
looked
at
me
.
He
looked
as
dumbfounded
as
I
felt
.
Behind
us
,
Delacroix
went
on
screaming
out
his
grief
and
horror
.
It
was
n't
just
the
mouse
,
of
course
;
Percy
had
smashed
a
hole
in
Delacroix
's
defenses
and
all
his
terror
was
pouring
out
.
But
Mr.
Jingles
was
the
focusing
point
for
those
pent-up
feelings
,
and
it
was
terrible
to
listen
to
him
.
"
Oh
no
,
"
he
cried
over
and
over
again
,
amid
the
screams
and
the
garbled
pleas
and
prayers
in
Cajun
French
.
"
Oh
no
,
oh
no
,
poor
Mr.
Jingles
,
poor
old
Mr.
Jingles
,
oh
no
.
"
"
Give
im
to
me
.
"
I
looked
up
,
puzzled
by
that
deep
voice
,
at
first
not
sure
who
it
belonged
to
.
I
saw
John
Coffey
.
Like
Delacroix
,
he
had
put
his
arms
through
the
bars
of
his
cell
door
,
but
unlike
Del
,
he
was
n't
waving
them
around
.
He
simply
held
them
out
as
far
as
he
could
,
the
hands
at
the
ends
of
them
open
.
