Pop art miles davis no.8

Pop art miles davis no.8Pop art miles 1960Pop art miles 1960, on rust
right,' said it?'
'How should I know? I don't know how much money humans generally have.'
Nobby subsided.
'There's one thing that's true at least,' he said. 'You dwarfs really love gold, don't you?'
'Of course we don't. Don't be silly.'
'Well—'Nobby. He glanced at the trolls, then leaned across to Cuddy and whispered in the approximate region of his ear.Cuddy nodded.'Oh, is that all?''Yes. Er . . . is it true?''What? Oh, yes. Of course. It's nat'ral for a dwarf. Some have got more than others, of course.''That's the case all round,' said Nobby.'I myself, for example, have saved more than seventy-eight dollars.''No! I mean, no. I mean, I don't mean well-endowed with money. I mean . . .' Nobby whispered again. Cuddy's expression didn't change.Nobby waggled his eyebrows. 'True, is was in a clown's bedroom. Colon had occasionally wondered what clowns did in private, and it was all here – the overlarge shoe tree, the very wide trouser press, the mirror with all the candles round it, some industrial-sized sticks of make-up . . . and a bed which looked like nothing more complicated than a blanket on the floor, because that's what it was. Clowns and fools weren't encouraged to live the soft life. Humour was a serious business.
There was also a hole in the wall, just big enough to admit a man. A little pile of crumbling bricks was heaped next to it.
There was darkness on the other side.
On the other side, people killed other people for money.