Читать книгу Anthology of Black Humor - André Breton - Страница 17

The first time you have to inform me of a cut or tear, you will cut off Cadet de la Basoche’s (Albaret’s) b——s and send them to me in a box. I shall open the box and cry out, “Oh, my God! what is this?” And Jacques, the prompter, who will be looking over my shoulder, shall answer, “It’s nothing, Sir. Can’t you see that it’s a 19?” “No, not really,” I’ll say.… All vanity aside, do you have anything to match that?