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Three Tales of the Ring - ebook
Three Tales of the Ring - ebook
From the unsurpassed imagination of the creator of Conan, Robert E. Howard, here are three tales of boxing, suspense and high adventure. „Three Tales of the Ring” is an excellent sampler of his non-sword and sorcery output, with a very strong emphasis on the gothic and the macabre. The collection includes such Howard’s masterpieces as „The Apparition in the Prize Ring”, „Alleys of Darkness”, „Cupid vs Pollux”. „The Apparition In the Prize Ring” is a ghostly little boxing story, narrated by a boxing manager of a black heavyweight Ace Jessel also known by the title „Sucker Fight”. „Alleys of Darkness” is a story in the Sailor Dennis Dorgan series. „Cupid VS. Pollux” is similarly a bit humorous tale of a heavyweight boxer, who’s fallen in love. The boxing tales of Robert E. Howard have been collected into several different collections, some containing only them, some all of the works Howard has written.
Kategoria: | Classic Literature |
Język: | Angielski |
Zabezpieczenie: |
Watermark
|
ISBN: | 978-83-8148-849-5 |
Rozmiar pliku: | 2,5 MB |
FRAGMENT KSIĄŻKI
AS I am coming up the steps of the fraternity house, I meet Tarantula Soons, a soph with an ingrown disposition and a goggle eye.
“You’re lookin’ for Spike, I take it?” said he, and upon me admittin’ the fact, he gives me a curious look and remarks that Spike is in his room.
I go up, and all the way up the stairs, I hear somebody chanting a love song in a voice that is incitement to justifiable homicide. Strange as it seems, this atrocity is emanating from Spike’s room, and as I enter, I see Spike himself, seated on a divan, and singing somethin’ about lovers’ moons and soft, red lips. His eyes are turned soulfully toward the ceiling and he is putting great feeling in the outrageous bellow which he imagines is the height on melody. To say I am surprized is putting it mildly and as Spike turns and says “Steve, ain’t love wonderful?” you could have knocked me over with a pile-driver. Besides standing six feet and seven inches and scaling upwards of 270 pounds, Spike has a map that makes Firpo look like and ad for the fashionable man, and is neitherto about as sentimental as a rhinoceros.
“Yeh? And who is he?” I ask sarcastically, but he only sighs amorously and quotes poetry. At that I fizz over.
“So that’s why you ain’t to the gym training!” I yawp. “You big chunka nothin’, the tournament for the intercollegiate boxin’ title comes off tomorrow and here you are, you overgrown walrus, sentimentaliin’ around like a three year old yearlin’ calf.”
“G’wan,” says he, tossin’ a haymakin’ right to my jaw in an absentminded manner, “I can put over any them palukas without no trainin’.”
“Yes,” I sneers, climbin’ to my wobbling’ feet, “and when you stack up against Monk Gallranan you won’t need any trainin’. That’s a cinch.”
“Boxin’,” says the infatuated boob, “is degradin’. I bet she thinks so. I don’t know whether I’ll even enter the tourneyment or not.”
“Hey!” I yells. “After all the work I’ve done getting’ you in shape. You figurin’ on throwin’ the college down?”
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