（外文电子版资料）Theodore Sturgeon - Shottle Bop.pdfVIP

SHOTTLE BOP Unknown February by Theodore Sturgeon (1918- ) Id never seen the place before, and I lived just down the block and around the corner. Ill give you the address, if you like. The Shottle Bop, between Twentieth and Twenty-first on Tenth Avenue in New York City. You can find it if you go there looking for it. Might worth your while, too. But youd better not. The Shottle Bop. It got me. It was a small shop with a weather-beaten sign swung wrought crane, creaking dismally in the late fall wind. I walked past it, thinking of the ring in my pocket and how it had just been handed back to me by Audrey, and my mind removed from such things as shottle bops. I was thinking that Audrey might have used a term than useless in describing me: and her neatly turned remark about my being a psychopathic incompetent was as uncalled -for as it was spectacular. She must have somewere, balanced as it was by And I wouldnt marry you if you were the last man on which is a notably worn cliche. Shottle Bop! I muttered, and then paused, wondering where I had picked up such rhythmic syllables with which to express myself. Id seen it on that sign, of course, and it caught my eye. And what, I asked myself, might be a Shottle Bop? Myself replied Dunno. Toddle back and have a look. So toddle I did, back along the east side of wondering what manner of man might be running such an establishment in pursuance of what of business. I was enlightened on the second point by a sign in the window, all but obscured by dust and ashes of ap-parent centuries, which read: WE SELL BOTTLES There was another line of smaller print there. I rubbed at the crusted glass with my sleeve finally was able to make out. With things in them.