Barry Trotter and the Unnecessary Sequel [antikvár]

Chapter One A BIRTHDAY, AND A BOOK Bariy Trotter had always had awful birthdays. By thirty-eight, it had become a perverse point of pride with him, like the grottiness of his attire had been during his teens, or merciless sarcasm in his twenties. 'You want a present, boy?' his Uncle Vermon used to drawl malevolently. 'How about not killing you? How's that for a present?' Sure, Barry had the last laugh - but you can't humiliate, drive insane, and ultimately crucify memories. These days things were only slightly better. He could count on getting another squeaky fire hydrant from Lonald Measly, his dog-brained pal. A biohazard-suited postman would bring a few exuberantly lethal candies from Ferd, and a bloody-minded trick something-or-other from Jorge. His godfather Serious Blech would send him a birthday card, not containing money, but ^ 1 ^