The catcher in the rye 1951 Full Audiobook J.D. Salinger - 0um__

Pessoa 1 The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger One, if you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born and what my lousy childhood was like and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me and all that David Copperfield kind of crap. But I don't feel like going into it. If you want to know the truth. In the 1st place, that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two haemorrhages a piece if I told anything pretty personal about them. They're quite touchy about anything like that, especially my father. They're nice and all, I'm not saying that, but they're all so touchy as hell. Besides, I'm not going to tell you my whole God damn autobiography or anything. I'll just tell you about this madman stuff that happened to me around last Christmas, just before I got pretty rundown and had to come out here and take it easy. I mean, that's all I told DB about and he's my brother and all. He's in Hollywood that isn't too far from this crummy place, and he comes over and visits me practically every weekend. He's going to drive me home when I go home next month maybe. He just got a Jaguar, one of those little English jobs that can do around 200 miles an hour. It cost him damn near 4000 bucks. He's got a lot of dough now. He didn't used to. He used to be just a regular writer. When he was home, he wrote this terrific book of short stories, The Secret Goldfish. In case you never heard of him, the best one in it was The Secret Goldfish. It was about this little kid that wouldn't let anybody look at his goldfish because he'd bought it with his own money. It killed me. Now he's out in Hollywood, DB being a prostitute. If there's one thing I hate, it's the movies. Don't even mention them to me. Where I want to start telling is the day I left Pencey Prep Pencey Prep is this school that's in Hagerstown, Pennsylvania. You've probably heard of it. You've probably seen the ads. Anyway, they advertise in about 1000 magazines always showing some hot shot guy on a horse jumping over a fence. Like as if all you ever did at Pensey was play polo all the time. I never even once saw a horse anywhere near the place and underneath the guy on the horse's picture. It always says since 1888 we have been moulding boys into splendid, clear, thinking young men. Pessoa 2 Strictly for the birds. Pessoa 1 They don't do any damn more moulding at Pensey than they do at any other school, and I didn't know anybody there that was splendid and clear thinking and all. Maybe two guys, if that many, and they probably came to Pensey that way anyway. It was the Saturday of the football game with Sex and Hall. The game with Sex and Hall was supposed to be a very big deal around Pensey. It was the last game of the year and you were supposed to commit suicide or something if old Pensey didn't win. I remember around 3:00 that afternoon, I was standing way the hell up on top of Thompson Hill, right next to this crazy cannon that was in the Revolutionary War and all. You could see the whole field from there, and you could see the two teams bashing each other all over the place. You couldn't see the grandstand too hot, but you could hear them all yelling deep and terrific on the Pensy side, because practically the whole school except me was there and scrawny and faggy. On the Sex and Hall side, because the visiting team hardly ever brought many people with them. There were never many girls at all at the football games. Only seniors were allowed to bring girls with them. It was a terrible school, no matter how you looked at it. I like to be somewhere at least where you can see a few girls around once in a while, even if they're only scratching their arms or blowing their noses or even just giggling or something. Old Selma Thurmer, she was the headmaster's daughter, showed up at the games quite often, but she wasn't exactly the type that drove you mad with desire. She was a pretty nice girl, though. I sat next to her once on a bus from Hagerstown and we sort of struck up a conversation. I liked her. She had a big nose and her nails were all bitten down and bleedy looking and she had on those damn falsies that point all over the place. But you felt sort of sorry for her. What I liked about her, she didn't give you a lot of horse manure about what a great guy or father was. She probably knew what a phoney slob he was. The reason I was standing way up on Thompson Hill instead of down at the game was because I just got back from New York with the fencing team. I was the goddamn manager of the fencing team. Pessoa 2 Very big deal. Pessoa 1 We got into New York that morning for this fencing meet with Mcburney School, Only we didn't have the meet. I left all the foils and equipment and stuff on the goddamn subway. It wasn't all my fault. I had to keep getting up to look at this map so we'd know where to get off. So we got back to Pensey around 2:30 instead of around dinner time. The whole team ostracised me the whole way back on the train. It was pretty funny in a way. The other reason I wasn't down at the game was because I was on my way to say goodbye to old Spencer, my history teacher. He had the grip and I figured I probably wouldn't see him again till Christmas vacation started. He wrote me this note saying you wanted to see me before I went home. He knew I wasn't coming back to Pensey. I forgot to tell you about that. They kicked me out. I wasn't supposed to come back after Christmas vacation on account of I was flunking 4 subjects and not applying myself and all. They gave me frequent warnings to start applying myself, especially around midterms when my parents came up for a conference with old Thurmer, but I didn't do it, so I got the axe. They give guys the axe quite frequently at Pensi. It has a very good academic rating. Pensi, it really does. Anyway, it was December and all and it was cold as a witch's teeth, especially on top of that stupid hill. I only had on my reversible and no gloves or anything. The week before that, somebody had stolen my camel's hair coat right out of my room with my fur lined gloves right in the pocket and all. Pencey was full of crooks. Quite a few guys came from these very wealthy families, but it was full of crooks. Anyway, the more expensive a school is, the more crooks it has. I'm not kidding. Anyway, I kept standing next to that crazy can and looking down at the game and freezing my ass off. Only I wasn't watching the game too much what I was really hanging around for. I was trying to feel some kind of a goodbye. I mean, I've left schools and places I didn't even know I was leaving them. I hate. Pessoa 3 That. Pessoa 1 I don't care if it's a sad goodbye or a bad goodbye, but when I leave a place, I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse. I was lucky. All of a sudden I thought of something that helped make me know I was getting the hell out. I suddenly remembered this time in around October that I and Robert Kitchener and Paul Campbell were chucking a football around in front of the academic building. They were nice guys, especially Kitchener. It was just before dinner and it was getting pretty dark out, but we kept chucking the ball around anyway. It kept getting darker and darker and we could hardly see the ball anymore, but we didn't want to stop doing what we were doing. Finally, we had to. This teacher that taught biology, Mr Zambezi, stuck his head out of this window in the academic building and told us to go back to the dorm and get ready for dinner. If I get a chance to remember that kind of stuff, I can get a goodbye when I need one. At least most of the time I can. As soon as I got it, I turned around and started running down the other side of the hill toward Old Spencer's house. He didn't live on the campus, he lived on Anthony Wayne Ave. I ran all the way to the main gate and then I waited a second till I got my breath. I have no wind, if you want to know the truth. I'm quite a heavy smoker for one thing, and that is I used to be. They made me cut it out. Another thing, I grew 6 1/2 inches last year. That's how I practically got TB and came out here for all these goddamn checkups and stuff. I'm pretty healthy though. Anyway, as soon as I got my breath back, I ran across route 2O four. It was icy as hell and I damn near fell down. I don't even know what I was running for, I guess I just felt like it. After I got across the road, I felt sort of like I was disappearing. It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed the road. Boy, I rang that doorbell fast. When I got to old Spencer's house, I was really frozen. My ears were hurting and I could hardly move my fingers at all. Come on, come on, I said, right out loud. Almost. Somebody opened the door. Finally, old Missus Spencer opened it. They didn't have a maid or anything, and they always opened the door themselves. They didn't have too much dough. Pessoa 3 Holden how lovely to see you. Come in dear, are you frozen to death? Pessoa 1 Missus Spencer said. Pessoa 2 I think she. Pessoa 1 Was glad to see me. She liked me, at least I think she did. Boy did I get in that house fast. How are you, Missus Spencer? I said. How's Mr Spencer? Let me take your coat, dear. She said she didn't hear me ask how Mr Spencer was. She was sort of deaf. She hung up my coat in the hall closet and I sort of brushed my hair back with my hand. I wear a crew cut quite frequently, and I never have to comb it much. How have you been, Missus Spencer? I said again, only louder, so she'd hear me. I've been just fine, Holden. She closed the closet door. Pessoa 3 How have you been? Pessoa 1 The way she asked me, I knew right away. Old Spencer told her I'd been kicked out. Fine, I said. How's Mr Spencer? Pessoa 3 He over his grip. Pessoa 1 Yet over it, Holden, he's behaving like a perfect I don't know what. He's in his room, dear, Go right in two. They each had their own room and all. They were both around 70 years old, or even more than that. They got a bang out of things though, in 1/2 assed way of course. I know that sounds mean to say, but I don't mean it mean. I just mean that I used to think about old Spencer quite a lot and if you thought about him too much, you wondered what the heck he was still living for. I mean, he was all stooped over and he had very terrible posture. And in class, whenever he dropped a piece of chalk at the blackboard, some guy in the 1st row always had to get up and pick it up and hand it to him. That's awful in my opinion, but if you thought about him just enough and not too much, you could figure it out that he wasn't doing too bad for himself. For instance, one Sunday when some other guys and I were over there for hot chocolate, he showed us this old beat up Navajo blanket he and Missus Spencer bought off some Indian in Yellowstone Park. You could tell old Spencer got a Big Bang out of buying it. That's what I mean. You take somebody old as hell like old Spencer and they can get a Big Bang out of buying a blanket. His door was open, but I sort of knocked on it anyway, just to be polite and all. I could see where he was sitting. He was sitting in a big leather chair, all wrapped up in that blanket I just told you about. He looked over at me when I knocked. Pessoa 4 Who's that? Pessoa 2 He yelled. Caulfield. Come in, boy. Pessoa 1 He was always yelling outside class. It got on your nerves sometimes. The minute I went in, I was sort of sorry I'd come. He was reading the Atlantic Monthly and there were pills and medicine all over the place and everything smelled like Vick's nose drops. It was pretty depressing. I'm not too crazy about sick people anyway, what made it even more depressing, old Spencer had on this very sad ratty old bathrobe that he was probably born in or something. I don't much like to see old guys in their pyjamas and bathrobes anyway. Their bumpy old chests are always showing and their legs, old guys legs at beaches and places always look so white and unhairy. Hello Sir, I said I got your note, thanks a lot. He'd written me this note asking me to stop by and say goodbye before vacation started on account of I wasn't coming back. You didn't have to do all that. I'd have come over to say goodbye anyway. I. Pessoa 4 Have a seat there, boy. Pessoa 1 Old Spencer said he meant the bed. I sat down on it. How's your grip, Sir? My boy. Pessoa 4 If I felt. Pessoa 1 Any better I'd have to send for the doctor, old Spencer said. That knocked him out. He started chuckling like a madman. Then he finally straightened himself out and said, why aren't you down at the game? Pessoa 4 I thought this was the day of the big game. Pessoa 1 It is. I was only I just got back from New York with the fencing team. I said. Boy, his bed was like a rock. He started getting serious as hell. I knew he would. Pessoa 4 So you're leaving us, eh? Pessoa 2 He said. Pessoa 1 Yes Sir, I guess I am. He started going into this nodding routine. You will never saw anybody nod as much in your life as old Spencer did. You never knew if he was nodding a lot because he was thinking and all, or just because he was a nice old guy that didn't know his ass from his elbow. What did Doctor Thurmer say to you boy? I understand you had quite a little chat. Yes we did, we really did. I was in his office for around 2 hours I guess. Pessoa 4 What did he say to you? Pessoa 3 Oh well. About. Pessoa 1 Life being a game and all and how you should play it according to the rules. He was pretty nice about it. I mean, he didn't hit the ceiling or anything. He just kept talking about life being a game and all. You know life is a Game Boy Life is a game that one plays according to the. Pessoa 4 Rules. Pessoa 1 Yes, Sir, I know it is. I know it. Game my ass. Some game. If you get on the site where all the hot shots are, then it's a game, all right, I'll admit that. But if you get on the other side where there aren't any hot shots, then what's a game about it? Nothing. No game. Has Doctor Thurman written to your parents yet? Old Spencer asked me. He said he was going to write them Monday. Have you yourself communicated with them? No, Sir, I haven't communicated with them because I'll probably see them Wednesday night when I get home. Now, do you think they'll take the news? Well, they'll be pretty irritated about it. I said. They really will. This is about the fourth school I've gone to. I shook my head. I shake my head quite a lot. Pessoa 2 Boy. Pessoa 1 I said I also say boy quite a lot, partly because I have a lousy vocabulary and partly because I act quite young for my age sometimes. I was 16 then and I'm 17 now and sometimes I act like I'm about 13. It's really ironical because I'm 6 foot 2 1/2 and I have grey hair. I really do. The one side of my head, the right side, is full of millions of grey hairs. I've had them ever since I was a kid, and yet I still act sometimes like I was only about 12. Everybody says that, especially my father. It's partly true too, but it isn't all true. People always think something's all true. I don't give a damn except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age. Sometimes I act a lot older than I am, I really do. But people never notice it. People never notice anything old. Spencer started nodding again. He also started picking his nose. He made out like he was only pinching it, but he was really getting the old thumb right in there. I guess he thought it was all right to do because it was only me that was in the room. I didn't care, except that it's pretty disgusting to watch somebody pick their nose. Then he said I had the privilege of meeting your mother and dad when they had their little chat with Doctor Thurmer some weeks ago. They're grand people. Yes, they are. They're very nice. Grand. There's a word I really hate. It's a phoney. I could puke every time I hear it. Then all of a sudden, old Spencer looked like he had something very good, something sharp as a tack to say to me. He sat up more in his chair and sort of moved around. It was a false alarm, though. All he did was lift the Atlantic Monthly off his lap and try to Chuck it on the bed next to me. He missed. It was only about two inches away, but he missed anyway. I got up and picked it up and put it down on the bed. All of a sudden, then I wanted to get the hell out of the room. I could feel a terrific lecture coming on. I didn't mind the idea so much, but I didn't feel like being lectured to and smell Victoria's nose drops and look at old Spencer in his pyjamas and bathrobe all at the same time. I really didn't. It started all right. What's the matter with you, boy? Old Spencer said. He said it pretty tough too, for him. How many subjects did you carry this term? 5 Sir. Pessoa 2 5. Pessoa 1 And how many are you failing in? Four. I moved my ass a little bit on the bed. It was the hardest bed I ever sat on. I passed English, all right, I said, because I had all that Beowulf and Lord Randall, my son stuff when I was at the Wooton School. I mean, I didn't have to do any work in English at all, hardly, except write compositions once in a while. He wasn't even listening. He hardly ever listened to you when you said something. I flunked you in history because you knew absolutely nothing. I know that, Sir boy. I know it. You couldn't help it. Absolutely nothing, he said over again. That's something that drives me crazy, when people say something twice that way, after you admit it the first time. Then he said it three times, but absolutely nothing. I doubt very much if you opened your textbook once the whole term. Did you tell the truth, boy? Well, I sort of glanced through it a couple of times. I told him I didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was mad about history. Pessoa 4 Need a glance through it, eh? Pessoa 1 He said, very sarcastic. Your exam paper is over there, on top of my chiffonier, on top of the pile. Bring it here, please. It was a very dirty trick, but I went over and brought it over to him. I didn't have any alternative or anything. Then I sat down on his cement bed again. Boy, you can't imagine how sorry I was getting that I'd stop by to say goodbye to him. He started handling my exam paper like it was a turd or something. We studied the Egyptians from November. Pessoa 4 4th to. Pessoa 1 December 2nd. He said you chose to write about them for the optional essay question. Would you care to hear what you had to say? No Sir, not very much. I said he read it anyway though. You can't stop a teacher when they want to do something, they just do it. The Egyptians were an ancient race of Caucasians residing in one of the northern sections of Africa. The latter, as we all know, is the largest continent in the Eastern Hemisphere. I had to sit there and listen to that crap. It certainly was a dirty trick. The Egyptians are extremely interesting to us today for various reasons. Modern science would still like to know what the secret ingredients were that the Egyptians used when they wrapped up dead people so that their faces would not rot for innumerable centuries. This interesting Riddle is still quite a challenge to modern science in the 20th century. He stopped reading and put my paper down. I was beginning to sort of hate him. Your essay, shall we say, ends there. He said in this very sarcastic voice. You wouldn't think such an old guy would be so sarcastic and all. However, you dropped me a little note at the bottom of the page, he said. I know I did, I said. I said it very fast because I wanted to stop him before he started reading that out loud. But you couldn't stop him. He was hot as a firecracker. Dear Mr Spencer, he read out loud. That is all I know about the Egyptians. I can't seem to get very interested in them, although your lectures are very interesting. It is all right with me if you flunk me, though, as I am flunking everything else except English. Anyway, respectfully yours, Holden Caulfield. He put my goddamn paper down and then looked at me like he'd just beaten hell out of me in ping pong or something. I don't think I'll ever forgive him for reading me that crap out loud. I wouldn't have read it out loud to him if he'd written it. I really wouldn't in the 1st place. I'd only written that damn note so that he wouldn't feel too bad about flunking me. Do you blame me for flunking you, boy? He said no Sir, I certainly don't. I said. I wish to hell he'd stop calling me boy all the time. He tried chucking my exam paper on the bed when he was through with it. Only he missed again, naturally. Pessoa 3 I had to get up. Pessoa 1 Again and pick it up and put it on top of the Atlantic Monthly. It's boring to do that every two minutes. What would you have done in my place? He said. Pessoa 4 Tell the truth, boy. Pessoa 1 Well, you could see he really felt pretty lousy about flunking me, so I shot the bull for a while. I told him I was a real moron and all that stuff. I told him how I would have done exactly the same thing if I'd been in his place, and how most people don't appreciate how tough it is being a teacher. That kind of stuff. The old bull. The funny thing is, though, I was sort of thinking of something else while I shot the bull. I live in New York and I was thinking about the lagoon in Central Park, down near Central Park South. I was wondering if it would be frozen over when I got home, and if it was, where did the ducks go? I was wondering where the ducks went when the lagoon got all icy and frozen over. I wondered if some guy came in a truck and took them away to a zoo or something, or if they just flew away. I'm lucky, though. I mean, I could shoot the old bull, the old Spencer, and think about those ducks at the same time. It's funny. You don't have to think too hard when you talk to a teacher. All of a sudden, though, he interrupted me while I was shooting the bull. He was always interrupting you. How do you feel about all this, boy? I'd be very interested to know. Very interested? You mean about my flunking out of Pensy and all? I said. I sort of wished he'd cover up his bumpy chest. It wasn't such a beautiful view. If I'm not mistaken, I believe you also had some difficulty at the Wootton School and at Elkton Hills. He didn't say it, just sarcastic, but sort of nasty too. I didn't have too much difficulty at Elkton Hills. I told him I didn't exactly flunk out or anything, I just quit, sort of. Pessoa 4 Why may I ask? Pessoa 1 Why? Oh, well, it's a long story, Sir. I mean, it's pretty complicated. I didn't feel like going into the whole thing with him. He wouldn't have understood it anyway. It wasn't up his alley at all. One of the biggest reasons I left Elkton Hills was because I was surrounded by phonies. That's all. They were coming in the goddamn window. For instance, they had this headmaster, Mr Haas, that was the phoniest bastard I ever met in my life. 10 times worse than old Thurmer. On Sundays, for instance, old Haas went around shaking hands with everybody's parents when they drove up to school. He'd be charming as hell and all except if some boy had little old funny looking parents. You should have seen the way he did with my roommate's parents. I mean, if a boy's mother was sort of fat or corny looking or something, and if somebody's father was one of those guys that wear those suits with very big shoulders and corny black and white shoes. And then old Haas would just shake hands with them and give them a phoney smile. And then he'd go talk for maybe 1/2 an hour with somebody else's parents. I can't stand that stuff. It drives me crazy. It makes me so depressed. I go crazy. I hated that goddamn Milkton Hills. Old Spencer asked me something then, but I didn't hear him. I was thinking about old Hoss. What, Sir? I said. Do you have any particular qualms about leaving Pencey? Oh, I have a few qualms, all right. Sure, but not too many. Not yet, anyway. I guess it hasn't really hit me yet. It takes things a while to hit me right now is thinking about going home Wednesday. I'm a moron. Do you feel absolutely no concern for your future boy? Oh, I. Pessoa 2 Feel some. Pessoa 1 Concern for my future, All right, Sure, sure I do. I thought about it for a minute, but not too much, I guess. Not too much. I guess you will, old Spencer said. You will, boy. Pessoa 2 You will when it's. Pessoa 1 Too late. I didn't like hearing him say that. It made me sound dead or something. It was very depressing. I guess I will. I said. I'd like to put some sense in that head of yours. Boy, I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to help you if I can. He really was too, you can see that. But it was just that we were too much on opposite sides of the pole, that's all. I know you are, Sir. I said thanks a lot. No kidding. I appreciate it, I really do. I got up from the bed then. Boy, I couldn't have sat there another 10 minutes to save my life. The thing? Pessoa 3 Is though I. Pessoa 1 Have to get going now, I have quite a bit of equipment at the gym I have to get to take home with me, I really do. He looked up at me and started nodding again with this very serious look on his face. I felt sorry as hell for him all of a sudden, but I just couldn't hang around there any longer. The way we were on opposite sides of the pole and the way he kept missing the bed whenever he chucked something at it, and his sad old bathrobe with his chest showing and that grippy smell of Victoria's nose drops all over the place. Look Sir, don't worry about me. I said, I mean it. I'll be all right. I'm just going through a phase right now. Everybody goes through phases and all, don't they? I don't. Pessoa 4 Know. Pessoa 1 Boy, I don't know. I hate it when somebody answers that way. Sure, sure they do, I said. I mean it, Sir. Please don't worry about me. I sort of put my hand on his shoulder. OK, I said. Wouldn't you like a cup of hot chocolate before you go, Missus Spencer would be. I would. I really would. But The thing is, I have to get going. I have to go right to the gym. Thanks though. Thanks a lot, Sir. Then we shook hands and all that crap. It made me feel sad as hell though. I'll drop you a line, Sir. Take care of your grip now. Goodbye. Pessoa 4 Boy after I shut the. Pessoa 1 Door and started back to the living room. He yelled something at me but I couldn't exactly hear him. I'm pretty sure he yelled good luck at me. I hope not, I hope to hell not. I'd never yell good luck at anybody. It sounds terrible when you think about it. 3 I'm the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It's awful. If I'm on my way to the store to buy a magazine even, and somebody asks me where I'm going, I'm liable to say I'm going to the opera. It's terrible. So when I told old Spencer I had to go to the gym to get my equipment and stuff, that was a sheer lie. I don't even keep my goddamn equipment in the gym. Where I lived at Pensey. I lived in the Ossenberger Memorial wing of the new dorms. It was only for juniors and seniors. I was a junior, my roommate was a senior. It was named after this guy Ossenberger that went to Pensey. He made a pot of dough in the undertaking business. After he got out of Pensey. What he did, he started these undertaking parlours all over the country that you could get members of your family buried for about 5 bucks apiece. You should see old Ossenberger. He probably just shoves them in a sack and dumps them in the river. Pessoa 2 Anyway, he gave. Pessoa 1 Pensey, a pile of dough, and they named our wing after him. The first football game of the year. He came up to school in this big God damn Cadillac and we all had to stand up in the grandstander and give him a locomotive. That's a cheer. Then the next morning in Chapel, he made a speech that lasted about 10 hours. He started off with about 50 corny jokes just to show us what a regular guy he was. Very big deal. Pessoa 2 Then he started. Pessoa 1 Telling us how he was never ashamed when he was in some kind of trouble or something to get right down on his knees and pray to God. Pessoa 3 He told us we should. Pessoa 1 Always pray to God, talk to him and all. Wherever we were. He told us we ought to think of Jesus as our buddy and all. He said he talked to Jesus all the time, even when he was driving his car. That killed me. I can just see the big phoney bastard shifting into first gear and asking Jesus to send him a few more stiffs. The only good part of his speech was right in the middle of it, he was telling us all about what a swell guy he was, what a hot shot and all. And then all of a sudden, this guy sitting in the row in front of me, Edgar Marsala, laid this terrific fart. It was a very crude thing to do in Chapel and all, but it was also quite amusing. Old Marsala. He damn near blew the roof off. Hardly anybody laughed out loud, and old Ussenberger made out like he didn't even hear it. But old Thurmer, the headmaster, was sitting right next to him on the rostrum and all, and you could tell he heard it. Boy was he. Pessoa 2 Sore. He didn't say anything. Pessoa 1 Then, but the next night he made us have compulsory study hall in the academic building and he came up and made a speech. He said that the boy that had created the disturbance in Chapel wasn't fit to go to Pensee. We tried to get Old Marsala to RIP another one right while Old Thurmer was making his speech, but he wasn't in the right mood. Anyway, that's where I lived, at Pensey, old Ossenberger Memorial Wing in the new dorms. It was pretty nice to get back to my room after I left old Spencer, because everybody was down at the game and the heat was on in our room for a change. It felt sort of cosy. I took off my coat and my tie and unbuttoned my shirt collar, and then I put on this hat that I'd bought in New York that morning. It was this red hunting hat with one of those very, very long peaks. I saw it in the window of this sports store when we got out of the subway, just after I noticed I'd lost all the goddamn foils. It only cost me a buck, the way I wore it. I swung the old peak way around to the back. Very corny, I'll admit, but I liked it that way. I looked good in it that way. Then I got this book I was reading and sat down in my chair. There were two chairs in every room. I had one and my roommate Ward Stradlater had one. The arms were in sad shape because everybody was always sitting on them but they were pretty comfortable chairs. The book I was reading was this book I took out of the library by mistake. They gave me the wrong book and I didn't notice it till I got back to my room. They gave me Out of Africa by Isaac Dennison. I thought it was going to stink but it didn't. It was a very good book. I'm quite illiterate but and I read a lot. My favourite author is my brother DB and my next favourite is Ring Lardner. My brother gave me a book by Ring Lardner for my birthday just before I went to Pennsy. It had these very funny, crazy plays in it, and then it had this one story about a traffic cop that falls in love with this very cute girl that's always speeding, only he's married the cop, so he can't marry her or anything. Then this girl gets killed because she's always speeding. That story just about killed me. What I like best is a book that's at least funny once in a while. I read a lot of classical books, like The Return of the Native and all, and I like them, and I read a lot of war books and mysteries and all, but they don't knock me out too much. What really knocks me out is a book that when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though. I wouldn't mind calling this Isaac Dennison up and Ring Lardner, except that DB told me he's dead. You take that Book of Human Bondage by Somerset and Mogam, though. I read it last summer. It's a pretty good book and all, but I wouldn't want to call Somerset and Mogam up. I don't know. He just isn't the kind of guy I't want to call up, that's all. I'd rather call old Thomas Hardy up. I like that Eustacia vai. Anyway, I put on my new hat and sat down and started reading that book out of Africa. I'd read it already, but I wanted to read certain parts over again. I'd only read about 3 pages though. When I heard somebody coming through the shower curtains. Even without looking up, I knew right away who it was. It was Robert Ackley, this guy that roomed right next to me. There was a shower right between every two rooms in our wing and about 85 times a day Old Ackley barged in on me. He was probably the only guy in the whole dorm besides me that wasn't down at the game. He hardly ever went anywhere. He was a very peculiar guy. He was a senior and he'd been at Pensey the whole four years and all, but nobody ever called him anything except Ackley. Not even Herb Gale, His own roommate ever called him Bob or even Ack. If he ever gets married, his own wife will probably call him Ackley. He was one of those very, very tall, round shouldered guys. He was about 6-4 with lousy teeth. The whole time he roamed next to me. I never even once saw him brush his teeth. They always looked mossy and awful. And he damn near made you sick if you saw him in the dining room with his mouth full of mashed potatoes and peas or something. Besides that, he had a lot of pimples. Not just on his forehead or his chin like most guys, but all over his whole face. And not only that, he had a terrible personality, he was also sort of a nasty guy. I wasn't too crazy about him, to tell you the truth. I could feel him standing on the shower ledge right behind my chair, taking a look to see if Strad Ladder was around. He hated Strad Ladder's guts and he never came in the room. If Strad Ladder was around, he hated everybody's guts damn near. He came down off the shower ledge and came in the room. Hi. Pessoa 3 He said. Pessoa 1 He always said it like he was terrifically bored or terrifically tired. He didn't want you to think he was visiting you or anything. He wanted you to think he'd come by by mistake, for God's sake. Hi, I said. But I didn't look up from my book. With a guy like Ackley, if you looked up from your book, you were a goner. You were a goner anyway, but not as quick. If you didn't look up right away. He started walking around the room very slow and all the way. He always did, picking up your personal stuff off your desk and chiffonier. He always picked up your personal stuff and looked at it. Boy, could he get on your nerves sometimes. How? Pessoa 3 Is the fencing, he said he. Pessoa 1 Just wanted me to quit reading and enjoying myself. He didn't give a damn about the fencing. We win. Pessoa 3 Or what He said. Pessoa 1 Nobody won, I said without looking up though what he said. He always made you say everything twice. Nobody won, I said. I sneaked a look to see what he was fiddling around with on my chiffonier. He was looking at this picture of this girl I used to go around with in New York, Sally Hayes. He must have picked up that goddamn picture and looked at it at least 5000 times since I got it. He always put it back in the wrong place, too, when he was finished. He did it on purpose, you could tell. Pessoa 3 Nobody won, he said. Pessoa 1 How come? Pessoa 3 I left the goddamn. Pessoa 1 Foils and stuff on the subway. I still didn't look up at him on the. Pessoa 3 Subway for Christ. Pessoa 1 'S sake. You lost them. You mean we got on the wrong subway? I had to keep getting up to look at a goddamn map on the wall. He came over and stood right in my light. Hey, I said, I've read the same sentence about 20 times since you came in. Anybody else? Pessoa 3 Except Ackley would have. Pessoa 1 Taken the goddamn hint. Not him though. Think they'll? Pessoa 3 Make you pay for him, he said. Pessoa 1 I don't know, and I don't give a damn. How about sitting down or something? Ackley, kid, you're right. In my goddamn light, he didn't. Pessoa 2 Like it when you called him? Pessoa 1 Ackley Kid. He was always telling me I was a goddamn kid because I was 16 and he was 18. It drove him mad. When I called him Ackley Kid, he kept standing there. He was exactly the kind of a guy that wouldn't get out of your light when you asked him to. He'd do it finally, but it took a lot longer if you asked him to let the hell are you? Pessoa 3 Reading, he said. Pessoa 1 God damn book. He shoved my book back with his hand so that he could see the name of it. Any good? He said. This sentence I'm reading is terrific and can be quite sarcastic when I'm in the mood. He didn't get it though. He started walking around the room again, picking up all my personal stuff and strad ladders. Finally I put my book down on the floor. You couldn't read anything with a guy like Ackley around. It was impossible. I slid way to hell down in my chair and watch old Ackley making himself at home. I was feeling sort of tired from the trip to New York and all, and I started yawning. Then I started horsing around a little bit. Sometimes I horse around quite a lot just to keep from getting bored. What I did was I pulled the old peak of my hunting hat around to the front, then pulled it way down over my eyes. That way I couldn't see a goddamn thing. I think I'm going. Pessoa 2 Blind, they said in this very. Pessoa 1 Hoarse voice, mother darling. Pessoa 2 Everything's getting so dark in here. You're nuts. I. Pessoa 1 Swear to God, Hickley said. Mother. Pessoa 2 Darling, give me your hand. Why won't you give me your hand for Christ? Pessoa 3 'S sake grow up. I started groping. Pessoa 1 Around in front of me like a blind guy but without getting up or anything. I kept saying mother. Pessoa 2 Darling, why won't you give me your hand? I was. Pessoa 1 Only horsing around naturally. That stuff gives me a bang sometimes. Besides, I know it annoyed hell out of old Ackley. He always brought out the old sadist in me. I was pretty sadistic with him quite often. Finally I quit, though. I pulled the peak around to the back again and relaxed. Who belongs to this? Ackley said He was holding up my roommate's knee supporter to show me that guy Ackley pick up anything. He'd even pick up your jock strap or something. I told him it was Strad Ladder's, so he chucked it on Stradladder's bed. He got it off Stradladder's chiffonier, so he chucked it on the bed. He came over and sat down on the arm of Strad Ladder's chair. He never sat down in a chair, just always on the arm. Where the hell? Pessoa 3 Did you get that hat? He said. New York. Pessoa 1 How? Pessoa 3 Much a buck, you got robbed. He started cleaning. Pessoa 1 His goddamn fingernails with the end of a match. He was always cleaning his fingernails. It was funny in a way. His teeth were always mossy looking and his ears were always dirty as hell, but he was always cleaning his fingernails. I guess he thought that made him a very neat guy. He took another look at my hat while he was cleaning them up. Home we wear. Pessoa 3 A hat like. Pessoa 1 That to shoot deer in, for Christ's sake, he said. That's a deer. Pessoa 3 Shooting hat like hell. Pessoa 1 It is. I took it off and looked at it. I sort of closed one eye like I was taking aim at it. This is a people shooting hat, I said. I shoot people in this hat. Pessoa 3 Your folks know you got kicked out yet? Pessoa 2 Nope. Where the Hell's Strad? Pessoa 1 Ladder at. Anyway, down at the game, he's got a date. I yawned. I was yawning all over the place, but one thing, the room was too damn hot. It made you sleepy at Pensey. You either froze to death or died of the heat. Pessoa 3 A great. Pessoa 1 Strad ladder, Ackley said. Hey, lend me your scissors a second, will ya? You got them handy? No, I packed them already. They're way in the top of the closet. Pessoa 3 Get them a second, will ya? Ackley said. Pessoa 1 I got this. Pessoa 3 Hangnail I want to cut off he. Pessoa 1 Didn't care if you'd packed something or not and had it way in the top of the closet. Pessoa 3 I got them for him though. Pessoa 1 I nearly got killed doing it too. The second I opened the closet door, Strad Ladder's tennis racket and it's wooden press and all fell right on my head. It made a big clunk and it hurt like hell. It damn near killed old Ackley though. He started laughing in this very high falsetto voice. He kept laughing the whole time I was taking down my suitcase and getting the scissors out for him. Something like that. A guy getting hit on the head with a rock or something tickled the pants off Ackley. You have a damn good sense of humour Ackley kid. I told him. You know that. I handed him the scissors. Let me be your manager, I'll get you on the God damn radio. I sat down in my chair again and he started cutting his big horny looking nails. How about using? Pessoa 3 The table. Pessoa 1 Or something, I said. Cut him over the table, will you? I don't feel like walking on your crummy nails in my bare feet tonight. He kept right on cutting them over the floor, though. What lousy manners. I mean it. Who's Strad? Ladders. Pessoa 3 Date, he said. Pessoa 1 He was always keeping tabs on who Stradlatter was dating, even though he hated Stradlatter's guts. I don't know why. No reason. Boy, I can't stand that son of a bitch. He's one. Pessoa 3 Son of A. Pessoa 1 Bitch, I really can't stand. He's crazy about you. He told me he thinks you're a goddamn Prince. I said. I call people a Prince quite often when I'm horsing around. It keeps me from getting bored or something. He's got this superior attitude all the time, Eckley said. I just can't stand the son of a bitch. You'd think he. Pessoa 3 Do you mind cutting? Pessoa 1 Your nails over the table. Hey, I said. I've asked you about 50. He's got this goddamn superior attitude all the time, Ackley said. I don't even think the son of a bitch is intelligent, he thinks. Pessoa 3 He is. He thinks he's about the most. Pessoa 1 Ackley, for Christ's sake, will you please cut your crummy nails over the table? I've asked you 50 times. He started cutting his nails over the table for a change. The only way he ever did anything was if you yelled at him. I watched him for a while, then I said the reason you're sore at Strad ladder is because he said that stuff about brushing your teeth once in a while. He didn't mean to insult you for crying out loud. He didn't say it right or anything, but he didn't mean anything insulting. All he meant was you'd look better and feel better if you sort of brushed your teeth once in a while. I brush my. Pessoa 3 Teeth don't give me. Pessoa 1 That no, you don't. I've seen you and you don't, I said. I didn't say it nasty, though. I felt sort of sorry for him in a way. I mean, it isn't too nice, naturally, if somebody tells you you don't brush your teeth, Strad Ladder's all right. He's not too bad. I said you don't know him. That's the trouble. I still say he's a son of a bitch. He's a conceited son of a bitch. He's conceited, but he's very generous in some things. He really is. I said, look, suppose, for instance, Strad Ladder was wearing a tie or something that you liked. See, he had a tie on that you liked a hell of a lot. I'm just giving you an example. Now you know what he'd do? He'd probably take it off and give it to you. He really would. Or you know what he'd do? He'd leave it on your bed or something, but he'd give you the God damn tie. Most guys would probably just hell. Pessoa 3 Ackley said. Pessoa 1 If I had his. Pessoa 3 Dough. I would too. No, you. Pessoa 1 Wouldn't. I shook my head. No, you wouldn't, Ackley kid. If you had his dough, you'd be one of the biggest. Stop calling. Pessoa 3 Me. Pessoa 1 Ackley, kid. God damn it. I'm old enough to be your lousy father. No you're not. Boy, he could really be aggravating sometimes. He never missed a chance to let you know you were 16 and he was 18 in the 1st place. I wouldn't let you in my God damn family, I said. Well just cut out calling me. All of a sudden the door opened. An old Strad ladder barged in in a big hurry. He was always in a big hurry. Everything was a very big deal. He came over to me and gave me these two playful as hell slaps on both cheeks, which is something that can be very annoying. Listen, he said. You going out anywhere special tonight? I don't know. I might. What the hell is it doing out snowing? He had snow all over his coat. Yeah. Listen, if you're not going out any place special, how about lending me your houndstooth jacket? Pessoa 2 Who won the game? Pessoa 1 I said. Pessoa 2 It's only the half. Pessoa 1 We're leaving, Stradlatter said. No kidding. You're going to use your houndstooth tonight or not. I spilled some crap all over my grey flannel. No, but I don't want you stretching it out with your goddamn shoulders and all, I said. We were practically the same height, but he weighed about twice as much as I did. He had these very broad shoulders. I won't stretch it. He went over to the closet in a big hurry. How's a boy? Pessoa 2 Ackley, he said to Ackley. Pessoa 1 He was at least a pretty friendly guy. Strad Ladder. It was partly a phoney kind of friendly, but at least he always said hello to Ackley and all. Ackley just sort of grunted when he said, how's a boy? He wouldn't answer him, but he didn't have guts enough not to at least grunt. Then he said to me, I think I'll get. Pessoa 3 Going see you later. Pessoa 1 OK, I said. He never exactly broke your heart when he went back to his own room. Old. Pessoa 2 Strad. Pessoa 1 Ladder started taking off his coat and tie and all, but I think maybe I'll take a fast shave. He said he had a pretty heavy beard, he really did. Where's your date? I asked him. She's. Pessoa 2 Waiting in the annex, he went out of the room. Pessoa 1 With his toilet kit and towel under his arm, no shirt on or anything. He always walked around in his bare torso because he thought he had a damn good build. He did too, I have to admit it. 4 I didn't have anything special to do, so I went down to the can and chewed the rag with him while he was shaving. We were the only ones in the can because everybody was still down at the game. It was hot as hell and the windows were all steamy. There were about 10 wash bowls all right against the wall. Strad ladder had the middle one. I sat down on the one right next to him and started turning the cold water on and off. This nervous habit I have, Stradladder kept whistling Song of India while he shaved. He had one of those very piercing whistles that are practically never in tune, and he always picked out some song that's hard to whistle. Even if you're a good Whistler, like Song of India or Slaughter on 10th Ave, you could really mess a song up. You remember I said before that Ackley was a slob in his personal habits? Well, so was Stradlader, but in a different way. Stradlader was more of a secret slob. He always looked all right, Stradlader, but for instance, you should have seen the razor he shaved himself with. It was always rusty as hell and full of lather and hairs and crap. He never cleaned it or anything. He always looked good when he was finished fixing himself up. But he was a secret slob anyway. If you knew him the way I did, the reason he fixed himself up to look good was because he was madly in love with himself. He thought he was the handsomest guy in the Western Hemisphere. He was pretty handsome too, I'll admit it, But he was mostly the kind of handsome guy that if your parents saw his picture in your yearbook, they'd right away say, Who's this boy? I mean, he was mostly a yearbook kind of handsome guy. I knew a lot of guys at Pensy I thought were a lot handsomer than Strad Ladder, but they wouldn't look handsome if you saw their pictures in the yearbook. They looked like they had big noses or their ears stuck out. I've had that experience frequently. Anyway, I was sitting on the wash bowl next to where Strad Ladder was shaving, sort of turning the water on and off. I still had my red hunting hat on with the peak around to the back and all. I really got a bang out of that hat. Hey Strad, Ladder said. Want to do me a big favour? Pessoa 2 What? Pessoa 1 I said not too enthusiastic. He was always asking you to do him a big favour. You take a very handsome guy or a guy who thinks he's a real hotshot, and they're always asking you to do them a big favour. Pessoa 2 Just because they're. Pessoa 1 Crazy about themselves. They think you're crazy about them too and that you're just dying to do them a favour. It's sort of funny in a way. You going out tonight? He said. I might, I might not. I don't know why. I got about 100 pages to read for history for Monday, he said. How about writing a composition for me, for English? I'll be up the Creek if I don't get the goddamn thing in by Monday. The reason I ask, how about it? It was very ironical. It really was. I'm the one that's flunking out of the goddamn place, and you're asking me to write your goddamn composition? I said. Yeah, I know. The thing is, though, I'll be up the Creek if I don't get it in. Be a buddy. Be a buddy, Roo. OK, I didn't answer them right away. Suspense is. Pessoa 2 Good for some. Pessoa 1 Bastards like Strad ladder. Pessoa 2 What on? Pessoa 1 I said anything, anything descriptive, a room or a house or something you once lived in or something, you know, just as long as it's descriptive as hell. He gave out a big yawn while he said that, which is something that gives me a royal pain in the ass. I mean, if somebody yawns right while they're asking you to do them a goddamn favour, just don't do it too good, is all he said. That son of a bitch Hartzell thinks you're a hotshot in English, and he knows you're my roommate. So, I mean, don't stick all the commas and stuff in the right place. That's something else that gives me a royal pain. I mean, if you're good at writing compositions and somebody starts talking about commas, Strad Ladder was always doing that. He wanted you to think that the only reason he was lousy at writing compositions was because he stuck all the commas in the wrong place. He was a little bit like Ackley that way. I once sat next to Ackley at this basketball game. We had a terrific guy on the team. How we coil that could sink them from the middle of the floor without even touching the backboard or anything. Ackley kept saying the whole goddamn game that Coyle had the perfect build for basketball. God, how I hate that stuff. I got bored sitting on that wash bowl after a while, so I backed up a few feet and started doing this tap dance just for the hell of it. I was just amusing myself. I can't really tap dance or anything, but it was a stone floor in the can and it was good for tap dancing. I started imitating one of those guys in the movies, one of those musicals. I hate the movies like Poison, but I get a bang imitating them. Old Strad Ladder watched me in the mirror while he was shaving. All I need is an audience. I'm an exhibitionist. I'm the God damn governor's son. I said. I was knocking myself out tap dancing all over the place. He doesn't want me to be a tap dancer. He wants me to go to Oxford. But it's in my God damn blood. Tap dancing. Old Strad Ladder laughed. He didn't have to bat a sense of humour. It's the opening night of the Zig Field Follies. I was getting out of breath. I have hardly any wind at all. The leading man can't go on. He's drunk as a bastard. So who do they get to take his place? Me, that's who. The little old goddamn governor's son. Where'd you get that hat? Stradlatta said. He meant my hunting hat. He'd never seen it before. I was out of breath anyway, so I quit horsing around. I took off my hat and looked at it for about the 90th time. I got it in New York this morning for a buck. You like it? Stradlatta nodded. Sharp, he said. He was only flattering me, though, because right away he said. Listen, are you going to write that composition for me? I have to know. If I get the time, I will. If I don't, I won't, I said. I went over and sat down on the wash bowl next to him again. Who's your date? I asked him. Fitzgerald. Hell no. I told you I'm through with that pig. Yeah, give it to me, boy. No kidding. She's my type. Take her. She's too old for you all of a sudden. For no good reason, really, except that I was sort of in the mood for horsing around. I felt like jumping off the wash bowl and getting old Strad ladder and a half Nelson. That's a wrestling hold, in case you don't know, but you get the other guy around the neck and choke him to death if you feel like it. So I did it. I landed on him like a God damn Panther. Pessoa 3 Cut it out, Holden. Pessoa 2 For. Pessoa 1 Christ's sake, Strad Ladder said. He didn't feel like horsing around. He was shaving and all. What do you want to make me do? Cut my God damn head off. I didn't let go though. I had a pretty good half Nelson on him. Liberate yourself for my vice like grip, I said. Jesus. Pessoa 2 Christ, he put down his razor. Pessoa 1 And all of a sudden jerked his arms up and sort of broke my hold on him. He was a very strong guy. I'm a very weak guy now. Cut the crap, he said. He started shaving himself all over again. He always shaved himself twice to look gorgeous with his crummy old razor. Who is your date if it isn't Fitzgerald? I asked him. I sat down on. Pessoa 3 The. Pessoa 1 Wash bowl next to him again. That Phyllis Smith babe? No, it was supposed to be, but the arrangements got all screwed up. I got Bud Thaw's girl's roommate now. Hey. Pessoa 2 I almost forgot. Pessoa 1 She knows you. Who does? I said my date. Yeah, I said what's her name? I was pretty interested. I'm thinking Gene. Pessoa 2 Gallagher. Pessoa 1 Boy, I nearly dropped dead when he said that. Jane Gallagher, I said. I even got up from the wash bowl when he said that. I damn near drop dead. You're damn right I know where she practically lived. Next door to me. Summer before last. She had this big damn Doberman Pinscher. That's How I Met her. Her dog used to keep coming over. And you're right in my light holding, for Christ's sake, Stradlatta said. You have to stand right there. Boy, was I excited, though. I really was. Where is she? I asked him. I had to go down and say hello to her or something. Where is she? In the annex? Yeah. How'd she happened to mention me? Does she go to BM now? She said she might go there. She said she might go to Shipley, too. I thought she went to Shipley. How'd she happen to mention me? I was pretty excited. I really was. I don't know, For Christ's sake. Lift up, will you? You're on my towel, Stradladder said. I was sitting on his stupid towel. Jane Gallagher, I said I couldn't get over it. Jesus H Christ. Old Stradladder was putting Vitalis on his hair. My Vitalis? She's a dancer, I said. Ballet and all. She used to practise about two hours every day, right in the middle of the hottest weather and all. She was worried that it might make her legs lousy, all thick and all. I used to play checkers with her all the time. You used to play what with her all the time? Checkers. Checkers, for Christ's sake. Pessoa 2 Yeah, she. Pessoa 1 Wouldn't move any of her kings. What she'd do when she'd get a king, she wouldn't move it. She'd just leave it in the back row. She'd get them all lined up in the back row. Then she'd never use them. She just liked the way they looked when they were all in the back row. Strad Ladder didn't say anything. That kind of stuff doesn't interest most people. Her mother belonged to the same club we did. I said I used to caddy once in a while, just to make some dough. I caddied for her mother a couple of times. She went around in about 170 for nine holes. Strad Ladder wasn't hardly listening. He was combing his gorgeous locks. I had to go down and at least say hello to her. I said, why don't you? Pessoa 2 I will in a. Pessoa 1 Minute he started parting his hair all over again. It took him about an hour to comb his hair. Her mother and father were divorced. Her mother was married again to some booze hound. I said skinny guy with hairy legs. I remember him. He wore shorts all the time. Jane said he was supposed to be a playwright or some goddamn thing, but all I ever saw him do was booze all the time and listen to every single goddamn mystery programme on the radio and run around the goddamn house naked with Jane around and all. Pessoa 2 Yeah, Strad, Ladder said. Pessoa 1 That really interested him about the booze hound running around the house naked with Jane around Strad. Ladder was a very sexy bastard. She had a lousy childhood, I'm not kidding. That didn't interest Stradlatter, though. Only very sexy stuff interested him. Jane Gallagher. Jesus, I couldn't get off my mind. I really couldn't. I had to go down and say hello to her at least. Why the hell don't you instead of keep saying it? Stradlatter said. I walked over to the window, but you couldn't see out of it. It was so steamy from all the heat in the can. I'm not in the mood right now, I said. I wasn't either. You have to be in the mood for these things. I thought she went to Shipley. I could have sworn she went to Shipley. I walked around the can for a little while. I didn't have anything else to do. Did she enjoy the game? I said yeah, I guess so. I don't know. Did she tell you we used to play checkers all the time or anything? I don't know, for Christ's sake, I only just met her. Stradladder said he was finished combing his goddamn gorgeous hair. He was putting away all his crummy toilet articles. Listen. Pessoa 3 Give him my regards, will you? Pessoa 1 OK. Pessoa 2 Stradladder said. Pessoa 1 But I knew he probably wouldn't. You take a guy like Stradladder, they never give you regards to people. He went back to the room, but I stuck around in the can for a while, thinking about old Jane. Then I went back to the room too. Strad Ladder was putting on his tie in front of the mirror. When I got there, he spent around half his goddamn time in front of the mirror. I sat down in my chair and sort of watched him for a while. Hey, I said, don't tell her I got kicked out, will you? OK, that was. Pessoa 2 One good. Pessoa 1 Thing about Strad Ladder. You didn't have to explain every goddamn little thing with him the way you had to do with Ackley. Mostly, I guess, because he wasn't too interested. That's really why. Ackley. It was different. Ackley was a very nosy bastard. He put on my houndstooth jacket. Jesus. Now try not to stretch it all over the place. I said I'd only want it about twice. I won't. Where the Hell's my cigarettes? On the desk. He never knew where he left anything under your muffler. He put them in his coat pocket. My coat. Pessoa 3 Pocket. Pessoa 1 I pulled the peak of my hunting hat around to the front. All of a sudden, for a change, I was getting sort of nervous. All of a sudden, I'm quite a nervous guy. Listen, we're going on your date with her. I asked him. You know, yet? I don't know. New York, if we have time. She only signed out for 9:30 for Christ's sake. Pessoa 2 I didn't like the way he said. Pessoa 1 It so I said the reason she did that. She probably just didn't know what a handsome, charming bastard you are. If she'd known, she probably would have signed up for 9:30 in the morning. God damn right. Pessoa 2 Strad, Ladder said. Pessoa 1 You couldn't rile in too easily. He was too conceited. No kidding. Now do that composition for me, he said he had his coat on and he was all ready to go. Don't knock yourself out or anything, but just make it descriptive as hell, OK? I. Pessoa 2 Didn't answer him. Pessoa 1 I didn't feel like it. All I said was ask her if she still keeps all the kings in the back row. OK, Strad, Ladders said. But I knew he wouldn't take it easy now. He banged the hell out of the room. I sat there for about 1/2 hour after he left. I mean, I just sat in my chair not doing anything. I kept thinking about Jane and about Stradlatter having a date with her and all. It made me so nervous I nearly went crazy. I already told you what a sexy bastard Stradlatter was. All of a sudden. Ackley barged back in again through the damn shower curtains as usual. For once in my stupid life, I was really glad to see him. He took my mind off the other stuff. Pessoa 3 He stuck around till around. Pessoa 1 Dinner time, talking about all the guys at Pensy that he hated their guts and squeezing this big pimple on his chin. He didn't even use his handkerchief. I don't even think the bastard had a handkerchief if you want to know the truth. I never saw him use one anyway. Pessoa 2 5. Pessoa 1 We always had the same meal on Saturday nights at Pensee. It was supposed to be a big deal because they gave you steak. I'll bet 1000 bucks the reason they did that was because a lot of guys, parents come up to school on Sunday and old Thermer probably figured everybody's mother would ask their darling boy what he had for dinner last night and he'd say steak. What a racket. You should have seen the steaks. There were these little hard dry jobs that you could hardly even cut. You always got these very lumpy mashed potatoes on steak night. And for dessert you got Brown Betty, which nobody ate except maybe the little kids in the lower school that didn't know any better and guys like Ackley that ate everything. It was nice though. When we got out of the dining room there were about 3 inches of snow on the ground and it was still coming down like a madman. It looked pretty as hell and we all started throwing snowballs and horsing around all over the place. It was very childish, but everybody was really enjoying themselves. I didn't have a date or anything, so I and this friend of mine, Mal Brossard, that was on the wrestling team, decided we'd take a bus in the Hagerstown and have a hamburger and maybe see a lousy movie. Neither of us felt like sitting around on our ass all night. I asked Mal if you minded if Ackley came along with us. The reason I asked was because Ackley never did anything on Saturday night except stay in his room and squeeze his pimples or something. Mal said he didn't mind, but that he wasn't too crazy about the idea. He didn't like Ackley much anyway. We both went to our rooms to get ready and all, and while I was putting on my galoshes and crap, I yelled over and asked old Ackley if you wanted to go to the movies. He could hear me all right through the shower curtains, but he didn't answer me right away. He was the kind of guy that hates to answer you right away. Finally, he came over through the goddamn curtains and stood on the shower ledge and asked who was going besides me. He always had to know who was going. I swear, if that guy was shipwrecked somewhere and you rescued him in a goddamn boat, he'd want to know who the guy was that was rowing it before he'd even get in. I told him Mal Brossard was going. He said that bastard all right. Pessoa 3 Wait a second. Pessoa 1 You'd think it was doing you a big favour. It took him about 5 hours to get ready. While he was doing it, I went over to my window and opened it and packed a snowball with my bare hands. The snow was very good for packing. I didn't throw it at anything though. I started to throw it at a car that was parked across the street, but I changed my mind. The car looked so nice and white. Pessoa 3 Then I started to. Pessoa 1 Throw it at a hydrant, but that looked too nice and white, too. Finally, I didn't throw it at anything. All I did was close the window and walk around the room with the snowball, packing it harder. A little while later, I still had it with me. When I and Brossard and Ackley got on the bus, the bus driver opened the doors and made me throw it out. I told him I wasn't going to Chuck it at anybody, but he wouldn't believe me. People never believe you. Brossard and Ackley both had seen the picture that was playing. So all we did, we just had a couple of hamburgers and played the pinball machine for a little while and took the bus back to Pensey. I didn't care about not seeing the movie anyway. It was supposed to be a comedy with Cary Grant in it and all that crap. Besides, I'd been to the movies with Brossard and Ackley before. They both laughed like hyenas at stuff that wasn't even funny. I didn't even enjoy sitting next to them at the movies. It was only about 8:45 when we got back to the dorm. Old Brossard was a bridge fiend and he started looking around the dorm for a game. Old Ackley parked himself in my room just for a change, only instead of sitting on the armour straddled at his chair, he laid down on my bed with his face right on my pillow and all. He started talking in this very monotonous voice and picking at all his pimples. I dropped about 1000 hints but I couldn't get rid of him. All he did was keep talking in this very monotonous voice about some baby was supposed to have had sexual intercourse with the summer before. He'd already told me about it about 100 times. Every time he told it, it was different. One minute he'd be giving it to her and his cousin's Buick, the next minute he'd be giving it to her under some boardwalk. It was all a lot of crap. Naturally, he was a virgin if ever I saw one. I doubt if he ever even gave anybody a feel. Anyway, finally I had to come right out and tell him that I had to write a composition for Stradletter and that he had to clear the hell out so I could concentrate. He finally did, but he took his time about it as usual. After he left, I put on my pyjamas and bathrobe and my old hunting hat and started writing the composition. The thing was, I couldn't think of a room or a house or anything to describe the way Stradlatter said he had to have. I'm not too crazy about describing rooms and houses Anyway, So what I did, I wrote about my brother Ally's baseball MIT. It was a very descriptive subject, it really was. My brother Ally had this left-handed Fielder's MIT. He was left-handed. The thing that was descriptive about it, though, was that he had poems written all over the fingers in the pocket and everywhere in green ink. He wrote them on it so they'd have something to read when he was out in the field and nobody was up at bat. He's dead now. He got leukaemia and died when we were up in Maine on July 18th, 1946. You liked him? He was two years younger than I was, but he was about 50 times as intelligent. He was terrifically intelligent. His teachers were always writing letters to my mother, telling her what a pleasure it was having a boy like Allie in their class. And they weren't just shooting the crap. They really meant it. But it wasn't just that he was the most intelligent member in the family. He was also the nicest in lots of ways. He never got mad at anybody. People with red hair are supposed to get mad very easily, but Allie never did. And he had very red hair. I'll tell you what kind of red hair he had. I started playing golf when I was only 10 years old. I remember once, the summer I was around 12, teeing off and all, and having a hunch that if I turned around, all of a sudden I'd see Allie. So I did, and sure enough, he was sitting on his bike outside the fence. There was this fence that went all around the course, and he was sitting there about 150 yards behind me, watching me tee off. That's the kind of red hair he had. God, he was a nice kid, though. He used to laugh so hard at something he thought of at the dinner table that he just about fell off his chair. Pessoa 2 I was only. Pessoa 1 13 and they were going to have me psychoanalysed, and all because I broke all the windows in the garage. I don't blame them, I really don't. I slept in the garage the night he died and I broke all the goddamn windows with my fist just for the hell of it. I even tried to break all the windows on the station waggon we had that summer, but my hand was already broken and everything by that time and I couldn't do it. It was a very stupid thing to do, I'll admit, but I hardly didn't even know why I was doing it. And you didn't know Allie? Pessoa 2 My hand still hurts. Pessoa 1 Once in a while, when it rains and all and I can't make a real fist anymore. Not a tight one, I mean. But outside of that I don't care much. I mean, I'm not going to be a God damn surgeon or a violinist or anything anyway. Pessoa 2 Anyway, that's what. Pessoa 1 I wrote Strad Ladders composition about Old Ally's baseball Mitt. I happened to have it with me in my suitcase, so I got it out and copied down the poems that were written on it. All I had to do was change Ally's name so that nobody would know it was my brother and not Strad Ladders. I wasn't too crazy about doing it, but I couldn't think of anything else descriptive. Besides, I sort of liked writing about it. It took me about an hour because I had to use Strad Ladder's lousy typewriter, and it kept jamming on me. The reason I didn't use my own was because I'd lent it to a guy down the hall. It was around 10:30, I guess, when I finished it. I wasn't tired, though, so I looked out the window for a while. It wasn't snowing out anymore, but every once in a while you could hear a car somewhere not being able to get started. You could also hear old Ackley snoring right through the goddamn shower curtains. You could hear him. He had sinus trouble, and he couldn't breathe too hot when he was asleep. That guy had just about everything. Sinus trouble, pimples, lousy teeth, halitosis, crummy fingernails. You had to feel a little sorry for the crazy son of a bitch. Some things are hard to remember. I'm. Pessoa 2 Thinking now. Pessoa 1 Of when Stradlatter got back from his date with Jane. I mean, I can't remember exactly what I was doing when I heard his God damn stupid footsteps coming down the corridor. I probably was still looking out the window, but I swear I can't remember. I was so damn worried. That's why when I really worry about something, I don't just fool around. I even have to go to the bathroom when I worry about something. Only I don't go. I'm too worried to go. I don't want to interrupt my worrying to go. If you knew Strad Ladder, you'd have been worried too. I double dated with that bastard a couple times, and I know what I'm talking about. He was unscrupulous, he really was. Anyway, the corridor was all linoleum and all, and you could hear his goddamn footsteps coming right toward the room. I don't even remember where I was sitting when he came in, at the window or in my chair. His, I swear I can't remember. He came in griping about how cold it was out. Then he said where the hell is everybody? It's like a goddamn morgue around here. I didn't even bother to answer him. If he was so goddamn stupid not to realise it was Saturday night and everybody was out or asleep or home for the weekend, I wasn't going to break my neck telling him he started getting undressed. He didn't say one goddamn word about Jane. Not one. Neither did I. I just watched him. All he did was thank me for letting him wear my houndstooth. He hung it up on a hanger and put it in the closet. Then when he was taking off his tie, he asked me if I'd written his goddamn composition for him. I told him it was over on his goddamn bed. He walked over and read it while he was unbuttoning his shirt. He stood there reading it and sort of stroking his bare chest and stomach with his very stupid expression on his face. He was always stroking his stomach or his chest. He was mad about himself all of a sudden, he said for Christ. Pessoa 2 'S sake, Holden. Pessoa 1 This is about a goddamn baseball glove. So what? I said cold as hell. What do you mean? So what? Pessoa 2 I told you it had to. Pessoa 1 Be about a goddamn room or a house or something. You said it had to be descriptive. What the Hell's the difference if it's about a baseball glove? God damn it, he was sore as hell. He was really furious. You always do everything back ass words. He looked at me. No wonder you're flunking the hell out of here, he said. You don't do one damn thing the way you're supposed to. I mean it. Not one damn thing. All right, give it back to me then, I said. I went over and pulled it right out of his God damn hand. Then I tore it up. What the hell did you do that for? He said. I didn't even answer him, I just threw the pieces in the wastebasket. Then I lay down on my bed and we both didn't say anything for a long time. He got all undressed down to his shorts and I lay on my bed and lit a cigarette. You weren't allowed to smoke in the dorm, but you could do it late at night when everybody was asleep or out and nobody could smell the smoke. Besides, I did it to annoy Strad Ladder. It drove him crazy when you broke any rules. He never smoked in the dorm. It was only me. He still didn't say one single solitary word about Jane. So finally I said you're back pretty goddamn late if she only signed out for 9:30. Did you make her be late signing in? He was sitting on the edge of his bed, cutting his goddamn toenails when I asked him that couple of minutes. He said, who the hell signs out for 9:30 on a Saturday night? God, how I hated him. Did you go to New York? I said. Pessoa 2 You're crazy. How the hell could we go to new? Pessoa 1 York If she only signed out for 9:30, that's tough. Pessoa 3 He. Pessoa 1 Looked up at me. Listen, he said. If you're going to smoke in the room, how about going down to the can and do it? You may be getting the hell out of here, but I have to stick around long enough to graduate. I. Pessoa 2 Ignored him. Pessoa 1 I really did. I went right on smoking like a madman. All I did was sort of turn over on my side and watched him cut his damn toenails. What a school. You were always watching somebody cut their damn toenails or squeeze their pimples or something. Did you give him my regards? I asked him. Yeah. Pessoa 2 The hell he. Pessoa 1 Did the bastard? What did she say? I said. Did you ask her if she still keeps all the kings in the back row? No, I didn't ask her. What the hell do you think? Pessoa 2 We did all. Pessoa 1 Night play checkers for Christ's sake. Pessoa 3 I didn't even answer. Pessoa 1 Him. Yeah, how I hated him. If you didn't go to New York, where'd you go with her? I asked him after a little while. I could hardly keep my voice from shaking all over the place. Boy, was I getting nervous. I just had a feeling something had gone funny. He was finished cutting his damn toenails. So he got up from the bed and just his damn shorts and all, and started getting very damn playful. He came over to my bed and started leaning over me and taking these playful as hell socks at my shoulder. Cut it out, I said, where'd you go with her if you didn't go to New York? Nowhere. We just sat in the God damn car. He gave me another one of those playful stupid little socks on the shoulder. Cut it out, I said. Who's car, Ed? Pessoa 2 Bankies, Ed. Pessoa 1 Banke was the basketball coach at Pennsy. Old Stradlatter was one of his pets because he was the centre on the team and Ed Banke always let him borrow his car when he wanted it. It wasn't allowed for students to borrow faculty guys cars. But all the athletic bastards stuck together in every school I've ever gone to. All the athletic. Pessoa 3 Bastard stick together. Pessoa 1 Stradlatter kept taking these shadow punches down at my shoulder. He had his toothbrush in his hand and he put it in his mouth. What did you do? I said. Give it a time. And Ed Banke's goddamn car. My voice was shaking something awful. What a thing. Pessoa 2 To say, want me to wash your? Pessoa 1 Mouth out with soap, did you? That's a. Pessoa 2 Professional secret buddy. Pessoa 1 This next part I don't remember so hot. All I know is I got up from the bed like I was going down to the can or something, and then I tried to sock him with all my might right smack in the toothbrush so it would split his goddamn throat open. Only I missed. I didn't connect. All I did was sort of get him on the side of the head or something. It probably hurt him a little bit, but not as much as I wanted. It probably would have hurt him a lot, but I did it with my right hand and I can't make a good fist with that hand on account of that injury I told you about. Anyway, the next thing I knew I was on the goddamn floor and he was sitting on my chest with his face all red. That is, he had his goddamn knees on my chest and he weighed about a tonne. He had hold of my wrists too, so I couldn't take another sock at him. I'd have killed him. What the Hell's the matter with you? He kept saying, and his stupid face kept getting redder and redder. Get your lousy knees off my chest, I told him I was almost bawling. I really was. Go on, get off of me, you crummy bastard. Pessoa 2 He wouldn't do. Pessoa 1 It though he kept holding on to my wrists and I kept calling him a son of a bitch and all for around 10 hours. I can hardly even remember what all I said to him. I told him he thought he could give the time to anybody he felt like. I told him he didn't even care if a girl kept all her kings in the back row or not. And the reason he didn't care was because he was a goddamn stupid moron. He hated it when you called him a moron. All morons hate it when you call them a moron. Shut up now, Holden, He said with his big stupid red face. Just shut up now. You don't even know if her first name is Jane or Jean, you goddamn moron. Now shut up, Holden. God damn it, I'm warning you, He said I really had him going. If you don't shut up, I'm going to slam you one. Get your dirty, stinking moron knees off my chest. If I let you up, will you keep your mouth shut? I didn't even answer him. He said it over again. Holden, if I let you up, will you keep your mouth shut? Yes, he got. Pessoa 3 Up off. Pessoa 1 Me and I got up too. My chest hurt like hell from his dirty knees. You're a dirty stupid son of a bitch of a moron. I told him that got him really mad. He shook his big stupid finger in my face. Holden, God damn it, I'm warning you now for the last time, if you don't keep your yap shut, I'm going to. Why should I? I said. I was practically yelling. That's just the trouble with all you morons. You never want to discuss anything. That's the way you can always tell a moron they never want to discuss anything intelligent. Then he really let one go at me, and the next thing I knew I was on the God damn floor again. I don't remember if he knocked me out or not, but I don't think so. It's pretty hard to knock a guy out, except in the goddamn movies. But my nose was bleeding all over the place. When I looked up, old Stradladder was standing practically right on top of me. He had his goddamn toilet kit under his arm. Why the hell don't you shut up when I tell you to? He said he sounded pretty nervous. He probably was scared he'd fractured my skull or something when I hit the floor. It's too bad I didn't. You asked. Pessoa 2 For it, goddamnit, he said. Pessoa 1 Boy, did he look worried. I didn't even bother to get up. I just lay there on the floor for a while and I kept calling him a moron. Son of a bitch. I was so mad I was practically bawling. Listen, go wash your face, Stradlatta said. You hear me? Pessoa 2 I told him. Pessoa 1 To go wash his own moron face, which was a pretty childish thing to say, but I was mad as hell. I told him to stop off on the way to the can and give Missus Schmidt the time. Missus Schmidt was the janitor's wife. She was around 65. I kept sitting there on the floor till I heard old Strad ladder close the door and go down the corridor to the can. Then I got up. I couldn't find my God damn hunting hat anywhere. Finally I found it. It was under the bed. I put it on and turned the old peak around the back the way I liked it. And then I went over and took a look at my stupid face in the mirror. You never saw such gore in your life. I had blood all over my mouth and chin and even on my pyjamas and bathrobe. It partly scared me and it partly fascinated me. All that blood and all sort of made me look tough. I'd only been in about two fights in my life and I lost both of them. I'm not too tough. I'm a pacifist if you want to know the truth. I had a feeling old Ackley probably hurt all the racket and was awake, so I went through the shower curtains into his room just to see what the hell he was doing. I hardly ever went over into his room. It always had a funny stink in it because he was so crummy in his personal. A tiny bit of light came through the shower, curtains and all, from our room and I could see him lying in bed. I knew damn well he was wide awake. Pessoa 3 Ackley, I said. Pessoa 1 You awake? Yeah, it was pretty dark and I stepped on somebody's shoe on the floor and damn near fell on my head. Pessoa 3 Ackley sort of sat. Pessoa 1 Up in bed and leaned on his arm. He had a lot of white stuff on his face for his pimples. He looked sort of spooky in the dark. What the hell are you doing, anyway? I said what do you mean? What the hell am I doing? I was trying to sleep before you guys started making all that noise. What the hell was the? Pessoa 3 Fight about anyhow where's? Pessoa 1 The light. I couldn't find the light. I was sliding my hand all over the wall. Pessoa 3 What do you want the light for right next to your hand? Pessoa 2 I finally found. Pessoa 1 The switch and turned it on. Old Ackley put his hand up so the light wouldn't hurt his eyes. Jesus. Pessoa 3 He said. Pessoa 1 What the hell happened? Pessoa 3 To you he. Pessoa 1 Meant all the blood and all. I had a little goddamn tiff with Strad ladder, I said. Then I sat down on the floor. They never had any chairs in their room. I don't know what the hell they did with their chairs. Pessoa 2 Listen. Pessoa 1 I said, do you feel like? Pessoa 3 Playing. Pessoa 1 A little canasta. He was a canasta fiend. You're still bleeding, for Christ's sake. You better put something on it. It'll stop. Listen. Pessoa 3 You want to. Pessoa 1 Play a little Canasta, don't you? Canasta, for Christ's sake? Do you know what? Pessoa 3 Time. Pessoa 1 It is by any chance. Pessoa 3 It isn't late. Pessoa 1 It's only around 11/11/30 only. Pessoa 3 Around, Ackley said. Pessoa 1 Listen. Pessoa 3 I got to get up and go to mass in the morning for. Pessoa 1 Christ's sake, you guys start hollering and fighting in the middle of the goddamn. What the hell was? Pessoa 3 The fight. Pessoa 1 About anyhow, it's a. Pessoa 3 Long. Pessoa 1 Story I don't want to bore you, Ackley. I'm thinking of your welfare. I told him I never discussed my personal life with him in the 1st place. He was even more stupid than Stradlater. Stradlater was a goddamn genius next to Ackley. Pessoa 2 Hey I. Pessoa 1 Said, is it OK if I sleep in Eli's bed tonight? He won't be back till tomorrow night, will he? I knew damn well he wouldn't. Eli went home damn near every weekend. Pessoa 2 I don't know when. Pessoa 1 The hell he's coming back, Eckley said. Boy, did that annoy me. What the hell do you mean you don't know when he's coming back? He never comes back till Sunday night, does he? Pessoa 2 No, but. Pessoa 3 For Christ's sake, I can't just tell somebody they can. Pessoa 1 Sleep in his God damn bed if they want to. That killed me. I reached up from where I was sitting on the floor and patted him on the goddamn shoulder. You're a Prince actually, kid, I said. You know that. No, I mean it. I can't just tell somebody they can sleep. And you're a real Prince. You're a gentleman and a scholar, kid, I said. He really was too. Do you happen to have any cigarettes by any chance? Say no or I'll drop dead. Pessoa 3 No, I don't. Pessoa 1 As a matter of fact, listen what? Pessoa 3 The. Pessoa 1 Hell was the fight about. Pessoa 3 I didn't. Pessoa 1 Answer him. All I did was I got up and went over and looked out the window. I felt so lonesome all of a sudden. I almost wished I was dead. Pessoa 3 What the hell was? Pessoa 1 The fight about, anyhow, Eckley said for about the 50th time. He certainly was a bore about that, about you, I said. About me. Pessoa 3 For Christ's sake, yeah, I was. Pessoa 1 Defending your goddamn honour, Stride Letter said. You had a lousy personality. I couldn't let him get away with that stuff. That got him excited. Pessoa 2 He did. Pessoa 3 No kidding, he did. I told him I was only. Pessoa 1 Kidding. And then I went over and laid down on Eli's bed. Boy, did I feel rotten. I felt so damn lonesome. This room stinks, I said. I can smell your socks from way over here. Don't you ever send them to the laundry if you don't? Pessoa 3 Like. Pessoa 1 It you know what you can do? Eckley said. What a witty guy. How about turning off the goddamn? Pessoa 3 Light. I didn't turn it off. Pessoa 1 Right away, though, I just kept laying on Eli's bed, thinking about Jane and all. It just drove me stark staring mad when I thought about her and Strad Ladder parked somewhere in that fat ass dead Banky's car. Every time I thought about it I felt like jumping out the window. The thing is, you didn't know Strad Ladder. I knew him. Most guys at Penske just talked about having sexual intercourse with girls all the time, like Ackley for instance. But old Strad Ladder really did it. I was. Pessoa 2 Personally. Pessoa 1 Acquainted with at least 2 girls he gave the time to. That's the truth. Pessoa 2 Tell me the story. Pessoa 1 Of your fascinating life, Eckley kid, I said. How about? Pessoa 3 Turning off the goddamn. Pessoa 1 Light I got to get up for mass in the morning I. Pessoa 3 Got up and. Pessoa 1 Turned it off if it made him happy. Then I laid down on Eli's bed again. What are you? Pessoa 3 Going to do. Pessoa 1 Sleep in Eli's bed, Eckley said. He was the perfect host boy. I may, I may not. Don't worry about it, I'm not worried. Pessoa 3 About it only I'd hate like. Pessoa 1 Hell, if Eli came in all of a sudden and found some guy, relax, I'm not going to sleep here, I wouldn't abuse your God damn hospitality. A couple of minutes later he was snoring like mad. I kept laying there in the dark anyway though, trying not to think about old Jane and Stradlatter in that God damn Ed Banky's car, but it was almost impossible. The trouble was, I knew that guy Stradlatter's technique. That made it even worse. We once double dated in Ed Banke's car and Stradlatter was in the back with his date and I was in the front with mine. What a technique that guy had. What he'd do was he'd start snowing his date in this very quiet, sincere voice. Like as if he wasn't only a very handsome guy, but a nice sincere guy too. I damn near puked listening to him. His date kept saying no, please, please don't, please, but old Stradlatter kept snowing her in this Abraham Lincoln sincere voice. And finally there'd be this terrific silence in the back of the car. It was really embarrassing. I don't think he gave that girl the time that night, but damn near, damn near while I was laying there trying not to think, I heard old Stradlatter come back from the can and go in our room. You could hear him putting away his crummy toilet, articles and all, and opening the window. It was a fresh air fiend. Then a little while later, he turned off the light. He didn't even look around to see where I was at. It was even depressing. Out in the street, you couldn't even hear any cars anymore. I got feeling so lonesome and rotten. I even felt like waking Ackley up. Hey. Pessoa 3 Ackley. Pessoa 1 I said in sort of a whisper so Strad Ladder couldn't hear me through the shower curtain. Ackley didn't hear me though. Hey, Ackley. Pessoa 2 He still. Pessoa 3 Didn't hear. Pessoa 1 Me, he slept like a rock. Pessoa 2 Hey. Pessoa 1 Ackley he. Pessoa 2 Heard that? All right. Pessoa 1 What the Hell's the matter with you? He said. Pessoa 2 He was asleep. Pessoa 3 For Christ's sake, listen. Pessoa 1 What's the routine on joining a monastery? I asked him. I was sort of toying with the idea of joining one. Do you have? Pessoa 3 To be a Catholic and all. Pessoa 1 Certainly. Pessoa 3 You have to be a. Pessoa 1 Catholic, you bastard. Did you wake me up just to ask me a dumb quest? Hey, go back to sleep. I'm not going to join one anyway. The kind of luck I have, I'd probably join one with all the wrong kind of monks in it all. Stupid bastards or just bastards? When I said that, old Ackley sat way the hell up in bed. Listen. Pessoa 3 He said. Pessoa 1 I don't care what you say about me or anything, but if you start making cracks about my goddamn religion, for Christ's sake, relax, I said. Nobody's making any cracks about your goddamn religion. I got up off Eli's bed and started toward the door. I didn't want to hang around in that stupid atmosphere anymore. I stopped on the way, though, and picked up Ackley's hand and gave him a big phoney handshake. He pulled it away from me. Pessoa 3 What's the idea? He said. Pessoa 1 No idea. I just want to thank you for being such a goddamn Prince. That's all I said. I said it in this very sincere voice. Your. Pessoa 2 Ace. Pessoa 1 Is actually kid, I said. You know that wise. Pessoa 3 Guy. Pessoa 1 Someday somebody's going to bash here. Pessoa 3 I didn't even bother. Pessoa 1 To listen to him, I shut the damn door and went out in the corridor. Everybody was a sleeper out or home for the weekend, and it was very, very quiet and depressing. In the corridor. There was this empty box of Colonos toothpaste outside Leahy and Hoffman's door, and while I walked down toward the stairs, I kept giving it a boot with this sheep blind slipper I had on. What I thought I'd do. I thought I might go down and see what old Mal Brossard was doing, but all of a sudden I changed my mind. All of a sudden I decided what I'd really do. I'd get the hell out of Pensy right that same night and all. I mean, not wait till Wednesday or anything. I just didn't want to hang around anymore. It made me too sad and lonesome. So what I decided to do, I decided I'd take a room in a hotel in New York, some very inexpensive hotel and all, and just take it easy till Wednesday. Then on Wednesday I'd go home, all rested up and feeling swell. I figured my parents probably wouldn't get old Thermer's letter saying I'd been given the axe until maybe Tuesday or Wednesday. I didn't want to go home or anything till they got it and thoroughly digested it and all. I didn't want to be around when they first got it. My mother gets very hysterical. She's not too bad after she gets something thoroughly digested, though. Besides, I sort of needed a little vacation. My nerves were shot, They really were. Anyway, that's what I decided I'd do. So I went back to the room and turned on the light to start packing and all. I already had quite a few things packed. Old Strad ladder didn't even wake up. I lit a cigarette and got all dressed and then I packed these two Gladstones I have. It only took me about two minutes. I'm a very rapid Packer. One thing about packing depressed me a little. I had to pack. Pessoa 3 These. Pessoa 1 Brand new ice skates my mother practically just sent me a couple of days before that depressed me. I could see my mother going in Spaldings and asking the salesman a million dopey questions and here I was getting the axe again. They made me feel pretty sad. She bought me the wrong kind of skates. I wanted racing skates and she bought hockey, but it made me sad. Anyway, almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad. After I got all packed, I sort of counted my dough. I don't remember exactly how much I had, but I was pretty loaded. My grandmother just sent me a wad about a week before. I have this grandmother that's quite lavish with her dough. She doesn't have all her marbles anymore, she's old as hell, and she keeps sending me money for my birthday about four times a year. Anyway, even though I was pretty loaded, I figured I could always use a few extra bucks. You never know. So what I did was I went down the hall and woke up Frederick Woodruff this guy had lent my typewriter to. I asked him how much he'd give me for it. He was a pretty wealthy guy. He said he didn't know. He said he didn't much want to buy it. Finally he bought it, though it cost about 90 bucks, and all he bought it for was 20. He was sore because I'd woke him up when I was. Pessoa 2 All set to. Pessoa 1 Go. When I had my bags and all, I stood for a while next to the stairs and took a last look down the God damn corridor. I was sort of crying, I don't know why. I put my red hunting hat on and turned the peak around to the back the way I liked it and then I yelled at the top of my God damn voice. Sleep tight you morons. I'll bet I woke up every bastard on the whole floor. Then I got the hell out. Some stupid guy had thrown peanut shells all over the stairs and I damn near broke my crazy neck. Pessoa 2 8 It was too late to. Pessoa 1 Call up a cab or anything. So I walked the whole way to the station. It wasn't too far, but it was cold as hell and the snow made it hard for walking and my Gladstone's kept banging hell out of my legs. I sort of enjoyed the air and although the only trouble was the cold made my nose hurt and right under my upper lip where Stradlatt had laid one on me, he'd smack my lip right on my teeth and it was pretty sore. My. Pessoa 2 Ears were nice. Pessoa 1 And warm though that hat I bought had ear laps in it and I put them on. I didn't give a damn how I looked. Nobody was around anyway. Everybody was in the sack. I was quite lucky when I got to the station because I only had to wait about 10 minutes for a train. While I waited, I got some snow in my hand and washed my face with it. I still had quite a bit of blood on. Usually I like writing on trains, especially at night with the lights on and the windows so black and one of those guys coming up the aisle selling coffee and sandwiches and magazines. I usually buy a ham sandwich in about four magazines. If I'm on a train at night, I can usually even read one of those dumb stories in a magazine without puking. You know one of those stories with a lot of phoney lean jawed guys named David in it and a lot of phoney girls named Linda or Marcia. They're always lighting all the goddamn David's pipes for them. I can even read one of those lousy stories on the train at night usually. But this time it was different. I just didn't feel like it. I just sort of sat and not did anything. All I did was take off my hunting hat and put it in my pocket. Pessoa 2 All of a sudden. Pessoa 1 This lady got on at Trenton and sat down next to me. Practically the whole car was empty because it was pretty late and all, but she sat down next to me instead of an empty seat because she had this big bag with her and I was sitting in the front seat. She stuck the bag right out in the middle of the aisle with a conductor and everybody could trip over it. She had these orchids on like she'd just been to a big party or something. She was around 40 or 45, I guess, but she was very good looking. Women kill me, they really do. I don't mean I'm oversexed or anything, all the way. I'm quite sexy. I just like them. I meet. They're always leaving the goddamn bags out in the middle of the aisle. Pessoa 3 Anyway, we were. Pessoa 1 Sitting there and all of a sudden she said to me, excuse me, but isn't that a Pensy Prep sticker? She was looking up in my suitcases up on the rack. Yes, it is, I said. She was right. I did have a goddamn Pensy sticker on one of my Gladstone's. Very corny, I'll admit. Oh, do you go to Pensy? She said. She had a nice voice. A nice telephone voice, mostly. She should have carried a goddamn telephone around with her. Yes, I do, I said. Oh, how? Pessoa 2 Lovely. Perhaps you know my son. Pessoa 1 Then Ernest Morrow, he goes to Pensy. Yes, I do. He's in my class. Her son was doubtless the biggest bastard that ever went to Pensy in the whole crummy history of the school. He was always going down the corridor after he'd had a shower, snapping his soggy old wet towel at people's asses. That's exactly the kind of guy he was. Pessoa 2 Oh, how nice. Pessoa 1 The lady said, but not corny. She was just nice and all. I must tell Ernest We met, she said. May I ask your name, dear? Rudolph Schmidt, I told her. I didn't feel like giving him my whole life history. Rudolf Schmidt was the name of the janitor of our dorm. Do you like Pensey? She asked me. Pensey. It's not too bad. It's not paradise or anything, but it's as good as most schools. Some of the faculty are pretty conscientious. Ernest just adores it. I know he does, I said. Then I started shooting the old crap around a little bit. He adapts himself very well to things. He really does. I mean, he really knows how to adapt himself. Do you think so? She asked me. She sounded interested as hell. Ernest. Sure. Pessoa 2 I said. Pessoa 1 Then I watched her take off her gloves. Boy, she was lousy with rocks. I just broke a nail getting out of a cab, she said. She looked up at me and sort of smiled. She had a terrifically nice smile, she really did. Most people have hardly any smile at all. Or a lousy 1. Ernest's father and I sometimes worry about him, she said. We sometimes feel he's not a terribly good mixer. How do you mean? Well, he's a very sensitive boy. He's really never been a terribly good mixer with other boys. Perhaps he. Pessoa 2 Takes things a little more. Pessoa 1 Seriously than he should at his age. Sensitive. That killed me. That chimoro was about as sensitive as a goddamn toilet seat. I gave her a good look. She didn't look like any dope to me. She looked like she might have a pretty damn good idea what a bastard she was the mother of, but you can't always tell with somebody's mother. I mean, mothers are all slightly insane. The thing is, though, I liked old Morrow's mother. She was all right. Would you care for a cigarette? I asked her. She looked. Pessoa 2 Around. Pessoa 1 I don't believe this is a smoker, Rudolph, she said. Rudolph that killed me. That's all right. We can smoke till they start screaming at us, I said. Pessoa 2 She took a cigarette. Pessoa 1 Off me and I gave her a light. She looked nice smoking, she inhaled and all, but she didn't wolf the smoke down the way most women around her age do. She had a lot of charm. She had quite a lot of sex appeal too, if you really want to know. She was looking at me sort of funny. I may be wrong, but I believe your nose is bleeding, dear, she said all of a sudden. I nodded and took out my handkerchief. I got hit with a snowball, I said. One of those very icy ones. I probably would have told her what really happened, but it would have taken too long. I liked her, though. I was beginning to feel sort of sorry. I told her my name was Rudolf Schmidt. Old Ernie, I said. He's one of the most popular boys at Pensey, did you know that? No, I didn't. I nodded. It really took everybody quite a long time to get to know him. He's a funny guy, a strange guy in lots of ways, you know what I mean? Like when I first met him. When I first met him, I thought he was kind of a snobbish person. That's what I thought, but he isn't. He's just got this very original personality that takes you a little while to get to know him. Old Misses Morrow didn't say anything, but boy, you should have seen her. I had her glued to her seat. You take somebody's mother, all they want to hear about is what a hot shot their son is. Then I really started chucking the old crap around. Did he tell you about the elections? I asked her. The class elections? She shook her head. I had her in a trance, like I really did. Well, a bunch of us wanted old Ernie to be president of the class. I mean, he was the unanimous choice. I mean, he was the only boy that could really handle the job. I said, boy, was I chucking it? But this other boy, Harry Fencer, was elected. And the reason he was elected, the simple and obvious reason was because Ernie wouldn't let us nominate him because he's so darn shy and modest and all. He refused. Boy, he's really shy. You want to make him try to get over that? I looked at her. Didn't he tell you about it? No, he didn't. I nodded. That's Ernie. He wouldn't. That's the one fault with him. He's too shy and modest. You really ought to get him to try to relax occasionally. Right that minute the conductor came around for Old Misses Morrow's ticket, and it gave me a chance to quit shooting it. I'm glad I shot it for a while, though. You take a guy like Morrow that's always snapping a towel at people's asses, really trying to hurt somebody with it. They don't just stay a rat while they're a kid. They stay a rat their whole life, but I'll bet after all the crap I shot, Missus Morrow will keep thinking of him now as this very shy, modest guy that wouldn't let us nominate him for president. She might. You can't tell. Mothers aren't too sharp about that stuff. Would you care for a cocktail? I asked her. I was feeling in the mood for one myself. We can go in the club car all right, dear. Pessoa 2 Are you? Pessoa 1 Allowed to order drinks, she asked me. Not snotty though. She was too charming and all to be snotty. Well no, not exactly, but I can usually get them on account of my height. I said. And I have quite a bit of grey hair. I turned sideways and showed her my grey hair. It fascinated the hell out of her. Come on, join me why don't you? I said. I'd have enjoyed having her. I really don't think I'd better thank you so much though dear. She said. Anyway, the club car is most likely closed, it's quite late you know. She was right, I'd forgotten all about what time it was. Then she looked at me and asked me what I was afraid she was going to ask me. Ernest wrote that he'd be home on Wednesday, That Christmas vacation would start on Wednesday. She said I hope you weren't called home suddenly because of illness in the family. She really looked worried about it. She wasn't just being nosy. You could tell. No, everybody's fine at home. I said it's me, I have to have this operation. Oh, I'm so sorry, she said she really was too. I was right away. Sorry I'd said it, but it was too late. It isn't very serious. I have this tiny little tumour on the brain. Oh, no. She put her hand up to her mouth and all. Oh, I'll be all right and everything. It's right near the outside and it's a very tiny one. They can take it out in about two minutes. Then I started reading this timetable I had in my pocket, just to stop lying. Once I get started, I can go on for hours if I feel like it. No kidding, hours. We didn't talk too much after that. She started reading this vogue she had with her, and I looked out the window for a while. She got off in Newark. She wished me a lot of luck with the operation and all. She kept calling me Rudolph. Then she invited me to visit Ernie during the summer at Gloucester, MA. She said their house was right on the beach and they had a tennis court and all. But I just thanked her and told her I was going to South America with my grandmother. Which was really a hot one because my grandmother hardly ever even goes out of the house, except maybe to go to a goddamn matinee or something. But I wouldn't visit that son of a bitch Morrow for all the dough in the world, even if I was desperate. Pessoa 2 9. Pessoa 1 The first thing I did when I got off at Penn Station, I went into this phone booth. I felt like giving somebody a buzz. I left my bags right outside the booth so that I could watch them, but as soon as I was inside, I couldn't think of anybody to call up. My brother DB was in Hollywood. My kids sister Phoebe goes to bed around 9:00, so I couldn't call her up. She wouldn't have cared if I'd woke her up, but the trouble was she wouldn't have been the one that answered the phone. My parents would be the ones. So that was out. Pessoa 3 Then I thought of giving. Pessoa 1 Jane Gallagher's mother a buzz and find out when Jane's vacation started, but I didn't feel like it. Besides, it was pretty late to call up. Then I thought of calling this girl I used to go around with quite frequently, Sally Hayes, because I knew her Christmas vacation had started already. She'd written me this long phoney letter inviting me over to help her trim the Christmas tree, Christmas Eve and all, but I was afraid her mother to answer the phone. Her mother knew my mother, and I could picture her breaking a goddamn leg to get to the phone and tell my mother I was in New York. Besides, I wasn't crazy about talking to old Missus Hayes on the phone. She once told Sally I was wild. She said I was wild and that I had no direction in life. Then I thought of calling up this guy that went to the Wooten School when I was there. Carl Loose but I didn't like him much so I ended up not calling anybody. I came out of the booth after about 20 minutes or so and got my bags and walked over to that tunnel where the cabs are and got a cab. I'm so damn absent minded. I gave the driver my regular address just out of habit and all. I mean I completely forgot I was going to shack up in a hotel for a couple days and not go home till vacation started. I didn't think of it till we were halfway through the park. Then I said hey, do you mind turning around when you get a chance? I gave you the wrong address. I want to go back downtown. The driver was sort of a wise guy. I can't turn around here Mac this here's a. Pessoa 2 One way I'll have to go all. Pessoa 1 The way to 90th St Now I didn't want to start an argument, OK? I said. Then I thought of something all of a sudden, hey, listen, I said, you know all those ducks in that lagoon right near Central Park South, that little lake. By any chance do you happen to know where they go, the ducks when it gets all frozen over? Do you happen to know by any chance? I realised it was only one chance in a million. He turned around and looked at me like I was a madman. What are you trying to do, bud? He said. Kid me. Pessoa 2 No. Pessoa 1 I was just interested, that's all. He didn't say anything more, so I didn't either until. Pessoa 3 We came out of. Pessoa 1 The park at 90th Street, then, he said. All right, buddy, where to? Well, The thing is, I don't want to stay at any hotels on the east side where I might run into some acquaintances of mine. I'm travelling Incognito, I said. I hate saying corny things like travelling Incognito, but when I'm with somebody that's corny, I always act corny too. Do you happen to know what bands at the Taft or The New Yorker by any chance? No idea, Mac. Well, take me to the Edmont then. I said, would you care to stop on the way and join me for a cocktail on me? I'm loaded. Can't do it, Mac, sorry. He certainly was. Good company, terrific personality. We got to the Edmont Hotel and I checked in. I'd put on my red hunting hat when I was in the cab, just for the hell of it, but I took it off before I checked in. I didn't want to look like a screwball or something, which is really ironic. I didn't know then that the goddamn hotel was full of perverts and morons. Screwballs all over the place. Pessoa 3 They gave me this very. Pessoa 1 Crummy room with nothing to look out of the window at except the other side of the hotel. I didn't care much. I was too depressed to care whether I had a good view or not. The bellboy that showed me the room was this very old guy around 65. He was even more depressing than the room was. He was one of those bald guys that comb all their hair over from the side to cover up the baldness. I'd rather be bald than do that. Anyway, what a gorgeous job for a guy around 65 years old carrying people's suitcases and waiting around for a tip. I suppose he wasn't too intelligent or anything, but it was terrible. Anyway, after he left, I looked out the window for a while. With my coat on and all, I didn't have anything else to do. You'd be surprised. Pessoa 2 What was going on on the other? Pessoa 1 Side of the hotel, they didn't even bother to pull their shades down. I saw one guy, a grey haired, very distinguished looking guy with only his shorts on, do something. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. First he put his suitcase on the bed. Then he took out all these women's clothes and put them on real women's clothes. Silk stockings, high heeled shoes, brassiere, and one of those corsets with the straps hanging down and all. Then he put on this very tight black evening dress, I swear to God. Then he started walking up and down the room, taking these very small steps the way a woman does, and smoking a cigarette and looking at himself in the mirror. He was all alone too, unless somebody was in the bathroom. I couldn't see that much. Then in the window, almost right over his, I saw a man and a woman squirting water out of their mouths at each other. It was probably highballs, not water, but I couldn't see what they had in their glasses anyway. First he'd take a swallow and squirt it all over her. Then she did it to him. They took turns, for God's sake. You should have seen them. They were in hysterics the whole time, like it was the funniest thing that ever happened. I'm not kidding. The hotel was lousy with perverts. I was probably the only normal bastard in the whole place, and that isn't saying much. I damn near sent a telegram, the old Strad ladder, telling him to take the first train to New York. He'd have been the king of the hotel. The trouble was, that kind of junk is sort of fascinating to watch, even if you don't want it to be. For instance, that girl that was getting water squirted all over her face, she was pretty good looking. I mean, that's my big trouble. In my mind, I'm probably the biggest sex maniac you ever saw. Sometimes I can think of very crummy stuff I wouldn't mind doing if the opportunity came up. I can even see how it might be quite a lot of fun in a crummy way. And if you were both sort of drunk and all to get a girl and squirt water or something all over each other's face. The thing is though, I don't like the idea. It stinks if you analyse it. I think if you don't really like a girl, you shouldn't horse around with her at all. And if you do like her, then you're supposed to like her face. And if you like your face, you want to be careful about doing crummy stuff to it, like squirting water all over it. It's really too bad that so much crummy stuff is a lot of fun. Sometimes girls aren't too much help either. When you start trying not to get too crummy. When you start trying not to spoil anything really good. I knew this one girl a couple of years ago that was even crummier than I was. Boy, was she crummy. We had a lot of fun, though, for a while. In a crummy way. Sex is something I don't really understand. Too hot. You never know where the hell you are. I keep making up these sex rules for myself and then I break them right away. Last year I made a rule that I was going to quit horsing around with girls that deep down gave me a pain in the ass. I broke it though the same week I made it the same night. As a matter of fact, I spent the whole night necking with a terrible phoney named Anne Louise Sherman. Sex is something I just don't understand. I swear to God I don't. I started toying with the idea while I kept standing there of giving old Jane a buzz. I mean, calling her long distance at BM where she went instead of calling up her mother to find out when she was coming home. You weren't supposed to call students up late at night. But I had it all figured out. I was going to tell whoever answered the phone that I was her uncle. I was going to say her aunt had just got killed in a car accident and I had to speak to her immediately. It would have worked too. The only reason I didn't do it was because I wasn't in the mood. If you're not in the mood, you can't do that stuff right. After a while I sat down in a chair and smoked a couple of cigarettes. I was feeling pretty horny, I have to admit it. Then all of a sudden I got this idea. I took out my wallet and started looking for this address a guy I met at a party last summer that went to Princeton gave me. Finally, I found it. It was all a funny colour from my wallet, but you could still read it. It was the address of this girl that wasn't exactly a whore or anything, but that didn't mind doing it once in a while. This Princeton guy told me he brought her to a dance at Princeton once and they nearly kicked him out for bringing her. She used to be a burlesque stripper or something. Anyway, I went over to the phone and gave her a buzz. Her name was Faith Cavendish and she lived at the Stanford Arms Hotel on 65th and Broadway. A dump, no doubt. For a while I didn't think she was home or something. Nobody kept answering. Then finally somebody picked up the phone. Hello. I said I made my voice quite deep so that she wouldn't suspect my age or anything. I have a pretty deep voice. Anyway. Hello. Pessoa 3 This woman's. Pessoa 1 Voice said. None too friendly either. Is this miss? Pessoa 2 Faith Cavendish, Who's? Pessoa 3 This she said. Pessoa 1 Who's calling me up at this crazy goddamn hour? That sort of scared me a little bit. Well, I know it's quite late, I said in this very mature voice and all. I hope you'll forgive me, but I was very anxious to get in touch with you, I said. It's suave as hell, I really did. Who is this? She said. Pessoa 2 Well, you don't know me. Pessoa 1 But I'm a friend of Eddie Birdsell's. He suggested that if I were in town sometime, we ought to get together for a cocktail or two. Pessoa 2 Who? Pessoa 3 You're a friend of who, boy? Pessoa 1 She was a real tigress. Over the phone, she was damn near yelling at me. Edmund Birdsell. Eddie Birdsell, I said. I couldn't remember if his name was Edmund or Edward. I only met him once, at a goddamn stupid party. I don't know anybody by that name. Jack And if you think I enjoy being woke up in the middle, Eddie Birdsall from Princeton. I said you could tell she was running the name over in her mind and all. Pessoa 2 Birdsall. Pessoa 1 Birdsall from Princeton, Princeton College. That's right, I said you from Princeton College? Well, approximately oh how is. Pessoa 3 Eddie, she said. Pessoa 1 This is certainly a peculiar time to call a person up though. Jesus Christ, He's. Pessoa 2 Fine. Pessoa 1 He has to be remembered to you. Well, thank you. Remember Me to him, she said. He's a CRAN person. What's he doing? Pessoa 3 Now. Pessoa 1 She was getting friendly as hell all of a sudden. Oh, you. Pessoa 2 Know. Pessoa 1 Same old stuff, I said. How the hell did I know what he was doing? I hardly knew the guy. I didn't even know if he was still at Princeton. Look, I said. Pessoa 3 Would you be? Pessoa 1 Interested in meeting me for a cocktail somewhere by any? Pessoa 2 Chance. Pessoa 1 You have any idea what time it is? She said. What's your name anyhow, may I ask? She was. Pessoa 2 Getting an English. Pessoa 1 Accent. All of a sudden you sound a little on the young side. I laughed. Thank. Pessoa 2 You for. Pessoa 1 The compliment, I said. Suave as hell. Pessoa 3 Holden. Pessoa 1 Caulfield's my name, I should. Pessoa 2 Have given her a. Pessoa 1 Phoney name, but I didn't think of it. Well, look, Mr Koffel, I'm not in the habit of making engagements in the middle of the night. I'm a working gal. Tomorrow's Sunday, I told her. Well, anyway, I got to get my beauty sleep. You know how it is. Pessoa 2 I thought we might have. Pessoa 1 Just one cocktail together, it isn't too late. Pessoa 2 Well. Pessoa 1 You're very sweet, she said. Where you calling from? Where you at now anyways? Pessoa 3 Me. Pessoa 2 I'm in a phone booth, Oh, she said. Pessoa 1 Then there was this very long pause. Well, I'd like awfully to get together with you sometime, Mr Koffel. You sound very attractive. You sound like a very attractive person. But it is late. I could come up to your place. Well. Pessoa 2 Ordinary. Pessoa 1 I'd say grand. I mean, I'd love to have you up for a cocktail, but my roommate happens to be ill. She's been. Pessoa 3 Laying here. Pessoa 1 All night, without a wink of sleep, she just this minute closed her eyes and all. I mean, oh, that's too bad. Where are you stopping at? Perhaps we could get together for cocktails tomorrow. I can't. Pessoa 2 Make. Pessoa 1 It tomorrow, I said. Tonight's the only time I could make it. What a dope. Pessoa 2 I. Pessoa 1 Was I shouldn't have said that. Oh well, I'm awfully sorry. I'll say hello to Eddie for you. Pessoa 2 Will you do that? Pessoa 1 I hope you enjoy your stay in New York. It's a grand place. I know it is. Thanks. Good night, I said. Then I hung up. Boy, I really fouled that up. I should have at least made it for cocktails or something. 10 It was still pretty early. I'm not sure what time it was, but it wasn't too late. The one thing I hate to do is go to bed when I'm not even tired, so I. Pessoa 2 Opened my. Pessoa 1 Suitcases and took out a clean shirt, and then I went in the bathroom and washed and changed my shirt. What I thought I'd do, I thought I'd go downstairs and see what the hell was going on in the lavender room. They had this nightclub, the Lavender Room, in the hotel. While I was changing my shirt, I damn near gave my kids, sister Phoebe a buzz though. I certainly felt like talking to her on the phone, somebody with Sentinel, but I couldn't take a chance on giving her a buzz because she was only a little kid and she wouldn't have been up, let alone anywhere near the phone. I thought of maybe hanging up if my parents answered, but that wouldn't have worked either. They'd know it was me. My mother always knows it's me. She's psychic, but I certainly wouldn't have minded shooting the crap with old Phoebe for a while. You should see her. You never saw a little kid so pretty and smart in your whole life? She's really smart. I mean, she's had all A's ever since she started school. As a matter of fact, I'm the only dumb one in the family. My brother DB is a writer and all, and my brother Allie, the one that died that I told you about, was a wizard. Pessoa 2 I'm the only really. Pessoa 1 Dumb one, but you ought to see old Phoebe. She has this sort of red hair, a little bit like Ally's was, that's very short in the summertime. In the summertime she sticks it behind her ears. She has nice Pretty Little ears. In the winter time it's pretty long though. Sometimes my mother braids it and sometimes she doesn't. It's really nice though. She's only 10. She's quite skinny like me, but nice skinny, roller skate skinny. I watched her once from the window when she was crossing over 5th Ave to go to the park, and that's what she is. Roller skate skinny. You'd like her. I mean, if you tell old Phoebe something, she knows exactly what the hell you're talking about. I mean, you can even take her anywhere with you. If you take her to a lousy movie, for instance, she knows it's a lousy movie. If you take her to a pretty good movie, she knows it's a pretty good movie. Phoebe and I took her to see this French movie, The Baker's Wife with Ray MU in it. It killed her. Her favourite is the 39 steps, though, with Robert Doughnut. She knows the whole goddamn movie by heart because I've taken her to see it about 10 times. When Old Doughnut comes up to this Scotch farmhouse, for instance, when he's running away from the cops and all, Phoebe will say right out loud in the movie, right when the Scotch guy in the picture says it. Can you eat the herring? She knows all the talk by heart, and when this professor in the picture that's really a German spy sticks up his little finger with part of the middle joint missing to show Robert Doughnut, old Phoebe beats him to it. She holds up her little finger at me in the dark, right in front of my face. She's all right. You'd like her. The only trouble is she's a little too affectionate sometimes. She's very emotional for a child. She really is something else she does. She writes books all the time. Only she doesn't finish them. They're all about some kid named Hazel Weatherfield. Only old Phoebe spells it. Hazel. Old Hazel Weatherfield is a girl detective. She's supposed to be an orphan, but her old man keeps showing up. Her old man's always a tall, attractive gentleman about 20 years of age. That kills me. Old Phoebe, I swear to God you'd like her. She was smart, even when she was a very tiny little kid. I and Allie used to take her to the park with us, especially on Sundays. Allie had this sailboat he used to like to fool around with on Sundays, and we used to take Old Phoebe with us. She'd wear white gloves and walk right between us, like a lady and all. And when Allie and I were having some conversation about things in general, Old Phoebe be listening. Sometimes you'd forget she was around because she was such a little kid, but she'd let you know. She'd interrupt you all the time. She'd give Ally Rye a push or something and say who? Who said that? Pessoa 3 Bobby. Pessoa 1 Or the lady, and we'd tell her who said it and she'd say, oh, and go right on listening and all. She killed Ally too. I mean, he liked her too. She's 10 now and not such a tiny little kid anymore, but she still kills everybody. Everybody with any sense anyway. Anyway, she was somebody you always felt like talking to on the phone, but I was too afraid my parents would answer and then they'd find out I was in New York and kicked out of Pensy and all. So I just finished putting on my shirt. Then I got all ready and went down in the elevator to the lobby to see what was going on. Except for a few pimpy looking guys and a few hoary looking blondes, the lobby was pretty empty, but you could hear the band playing in the lavender room, so I went in there. It wasn't very crowded, but they gave me a lousy table anyway, way in the back. I should have waved the buck under the head waiters nose in New York. Boy, money really talks. I'm not kidding. The band was putrid Buddy singer, very brassy, but not good. Brassy, corny brassy. Also, there were very few people around my age in the place. In fact, nobody was around my age. They're mostly old. Show off you looking guys with their dates. Except at the table right next to me. At the table right next to me, there were these three girls, around 30 or so. The whole three of them were pretty ugly, and they all had on the kind of hats that, you know, they didn't really live in New York. But one of them, the blonde 1, wasn't too bad. She was sort of cute, the blonde 1. And I started giving her the old eye a little bit, but just then the waiter came up from my order. Pessoa 2 I ordered a Scotch and. Pessoa 1 Soda and told him not to mix it. I said it fast as hell because if you hem and Haw they think you're under 21 and won't sell you any intoxicating liquor. I had trouble with him anyway though. I'm sorry, Sir. Pessoa 2 He said. Pessoa 1 But do you have some verification of your age? Your driver's licence perhaps? I gave. Pessoa 2 Him this very. Pessoa 1 Cold stare, like he'd insulted the hell out of me and asked him, Do I look like I'm under 21? I'm sorry Sir, but we have our OK, OK, I said. I figured the hell with it, bring me a coke. He started to go away, but I called him back. Can't you stick a little rum in it or something? I asked him. I asked him very nicely and all. I can't sit in the corny place like this, cold sober. Can't you stick a little rum in it or something? I'm very sorry, Sir, he said and beat it on me. I didn't hold it against him though. They lose their jobs if they get caught selling to a miner. I'm a goddamn miner. Pessoa 2 I started giving the. Pessoa 1 3 witches at the next table. The eye again. That is the blonde one. The other two were strictly from hunger. I didn't do it crudely though. I just gave all three of them this very cool glance and all. What they did though, the three of them, when I did it, they started giggling like morons. They probably thought I was too young to give anybody the once over. That annoyed the hell out of me. You'd have thought I wanted to marry them or something. I should have given them the freeze after they did that. But the trouble was I really felt like dancing. I'm very fond of dancing sometimes and that was one of the times. So all of a sudden I sort of leaned over and said, would any of you? Pessoa 2 Girls care to dance? Pessoa 1 I didn't ask them crudely or anything, very suave in fact, but God damn it, they thought that was a panic too. They started giggling some more. I'm not kidding, they were three real morons. Come on, I said. I'll dance with you one at a time, All right, how about it? Come on, I really felt like dancing. Finally the blonde one got up to dance with me because you could tell I was really talking to her, and we walked out to the dance floor. The other two ghouls nearly had hysterics when we did. I certainly must have been very hard up to even bother with any of them, but it was worth it. The blonde was some dancer. She was one of the best dancers I ever danced with. I'm not kidding. Some of these very stupid girls can really knock you out on a dance floor. You take a really smart girl and half the time she's trying to lead you around the dance floor, or else she's such a lousy dancer, the best thing to do is stay at the table and just get drunk with her. Pessoa 2 You can really. Pessoa 1 Dance, I told the blonde one you ought to be a pro. I mean it. I danced with a pro once and you're twice as good as she was. Did you ever hear of Marco and Miranda? What? Pessoa 3 She said. Pessoa 1 She wasn't even listening to me. She was looking all around the place. I said, did you ever hear of Marco and Miranda? I don't know. No, I don't know. Well, the dancers, she's a dancer. She's not too hot, though. She does everything she's supposed to, but she's not so hot anyway. You know when a girl's really a terrific dancer. What'd you say? She said she wasn't listening to me. Even her mind was wandering all over the place. They said, Do you know when a girl's a really terrific dancer? Uh, uh, well, where I have my hand on your back, if I think there isn't anything underneath my hand, no can, no legs, no feet, no anything, then the girl's really a terrific dancer. She wasn't listening though, so I ignored her for a while. We just danced. God could that dopey girl dance buddy singer in his stinking band was playing just one of those things and even they couldn't ruin it entirely. It's a swell song. I didn't try any trick stuff while we danced. I hate a guy that does a lot of show off tricky stuff on the dance floor, but I was moving her around plenty and she stayed with me. The funny thing is I thought she was enjoying it too till all of a sudden she came out with this very dumb remark. I and my girlfriend saw Peter Laurie last night. She said the movie actor in person. He was buying a newspaper. He's cute. You're. Pessoa 3 Lucky. Pessoa 1 I told her you're really lucky, you know, that she was really a moron, but what a dancer. I could hardly stop myself from sort of giving her a kiss on the top of her dopey head, you know, right where the part is and all. She got sore when I did it. Hey, what's the idea? Pessoa 3 Nothing. No. Pessoa 1 Idea You really can dance, I said. I have a kid sister that's only in the God damn 4th grade. You're about as good as she is and she can dance better than anybody, living or dead. Watch your language if you don't mind. What a lady boy? A queen, for Christ's sake. Pessoa 2 Where are you girls? Pessoa 1 From, I asked her. She didn't answer me though. She was busy looking around for old Peter Laurie to show up. I guess. Where are you girls from? I asked her again what she said. Where are you girls from? Don't answer if you don't feel like it. I don't want you to strain yourself. Seattle, WA, she said. She was doing me a big favour to tell me You're a very good conversationalist. I told her. You know that. Pessoa 3 What I let it drop? Pessoa 1 It was over her head anyway. Do you feel like jitterbugging a little bit if they play a fast one? Not corny jitterbug, not jump or anything, just nice and easy. Everybody will all sit down when they play a fast one, except the old guys and the fat guys, and we'll have plenty of room, OK? It's immaterial to me, she said. Hey, how? Pessoa 3 Old are you? Pessoa 1 Anyhow, that annoyed me for some reason. Oh Christ, don't spoil it, I said. I'm 12 for Christ's sake. I'm big for my age. Listen, I told you about that. I don't like that type language, she said. If you're going to use that tight language I can go sit down with my girlfriends, you know. I apologised like a madman because the band was starting a fast one. She started jitterbugging with me, but just very nice and easy, not corny. She was really good. All you had to do was touch her and when she turned around her Pretty Little butt twitched. So nice and all. She knocked me out. I mean it. I was half in love with her by the time we sat down. That's the thing about girls, every time they do something pretty, even if they're not much to look at or even if they're sort of stupid, you fall half in love with them and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls, Jesus Christ, they can drive you crazy, They really can. They didn't invite me to sit down at their table, mostly because they were too ignorant, but I sat down anyway. The blonde had been dancing with its name was Bernice something Crabs or Krebs. The two ugly ones names were Marty and Laverne. I told them my name was Jim Steele, just for the hell of it. Then I tried to get them in a little intelligent conversation, but it was practically impossible. You had to twist their arms. You could hardly tell which was the stupidest of the three of them. And the whole three of them kept looking all around the goddamn room like as if they expected a flock of goddamn movie stars to come in any minute. They probably thought movie stars always hung out in the Lavender room when they came to New York instead of the Stork Club or El Morocco and all. Anyway, it took me about 1/2 hour to find out where they all worked and all in Seattle. They all worked in the same insurance office. I asked them if they liked it, but do you think you could get an intelligent answer out of those 3 dopes? I thought the two ugly ones, Marty and Laverne, were sisters, but they got very insulted when I asked them. You could tell neither one of them wanted to look like the other one and you couldn't blame them, but it was very amusing. Anyway, I danced with them all, the whole three of them, one at a time. The one ugly 1 Laverne wasn't too bad a dancer, but the other one, Old Marty was murder. Old Marty was like dragging the Statue of Liberty around the floor. The only way I could even half enjoy myself dragging her around was if I amused myself a little. So I told her I just saw Gary Cooper, the movie star, on the other side of the floor. Where? Pessoa 2 She asked me. Pessoa 1 Excited as hell where? Pessoa 2 Oh, you. Pessoa 1 Just missed him. He just went out. Why didn't you look when I told you? She practically stopped dancing and started looking over everybody's heads to see if she could see him. Oh, shoot, she said. I had just about broken her heart. I really had. I was sorry as hell I'd kidded her. Some people you shouldn't, kid, even if they deserve it. Here's what was very funny, though. When we got back to the table, old Marty told the other two that Gary Cooper had just gone out. Boy, old Laverne and Bernice nearly committed suicide. When they heard that, they all got excited and asked Marty if she'd seen him and all Old Mart said she'd only caught a glimpse of him. That killed me. The bar was closing up for the night, so I bought them all 2 drinks apiece quick before it closed, and I ordered two more Cokes for myself. The God damn table was lousy with glasses. The one ugly 1. Laverne kept kidding me because I was only drinking Cokes. She had a sterling sense of humour. She and Old Marty were drinking Tom Collins's in the middle of December, for God's sake. They didn't know any better. The blonde 1, Old Bernice was drinking bourbon and water. She was really putting it away too. The whole three of them kept looking for movie stars the whole time. They hardly talked even to each other. Old Marty talked more than the other two. She kept saying these very corny, boring things like calling the can the little girl's room and she thought Buddy Singer's poor old beat up clarinet player was really terrific when he stood up and took a couple of ice cold hot licks. She called his clarinet a licorice stick. Was she corny? The other ugly 1, Laverne thought she was a very witty type. She kept asking me to call up my father and ask him what he was doing tonight. She kept asking me if my father had a date or not. Four times she asked me that. She was certainly witty. Old Bernice, the blonde one didn't say hardly anything at all. Every time I'd ask her something, she said what? That can get on your nerves after a while. All of a sudden, when they finished their drink, all three of them stood up on me and said they had to get to bed. They said they were going to get up early to see the first show at Radio City Music Hall. I tried to get them to stick around for a while, but they wouldn't. So we said goodbye and all. I told him I'd look them up in Seattle sometime if I ever got there, but I doubt I ever will look them up. I mean with cigarettes and all. The check came to about 13 bucks. I think they should have at least offered to pay for the drinks they had before I joined them. I wouldn't have let them naturally, but they should have at least offered. I didn't care much though, they were so ignorant and they had these sad fancy hats on and all. And that business about getting up to see the first show at Radio City Music Hall depressed me. If somebody, some girl in an awful looking hat for instance, comes all the way to New York from Seattle, WA for God's sake, and ends up getting up early in the morning to see the God damn first show at Radio City Music Hall, it makes me so depressed I can't stand it. I'd have bought the whole three of them 100 drinks if only they hadn't told me that. Pessoa 3 I left the lavender. Pessoa 1 Room Pretty soon after they did they were closing it up anyway and the band had quit a long time ago in the 1st place. It was one of those places that are very terrible to be in unless you have somebody good to dance with, or unless the waiter lets you buy real drinks instead of just cokes. There isn't any nightclub in the world you can sit in for a long time unless you can at least buy some liquor and get drunk, or unless you're with some girl that really knocks you out 11. Pessoa 4 All of a sudden on my. Pessoa 1 Way out to the lobby, I got old Jane Gallagher on the brain again. I got her on, and I couldn't get her off. I sat down in this vomiting looking chair in the lobby and thought about her and Stradlatter sitting in that goddamn Ed Banky's car. And though I was pretty damn sure old Stradlatter hadn't given her the time, I know old Jane like a book, I still couldn't get her off my brain. I knew her like a book, I really did. I mean, besides checkers, she was quite fond of all athletic sports. And after I got to know her the whole summer long, we played tennis together almost every morning and golf almost every afternoon. I really got to know her quite intimately. I don't mean it was anything physical or anything, it wasn't, but we saw each other all the time. You don't always have to get too sexy to get to know a girl the way I met her. This Doberman Pinscher she had used to come over and relieve himself on our lawn, and my mother got very irritated about it. She called up Jane's mother and made a big stink about it. My mother can make a very big stink about that kind of stuff. Then what happened? A couple of days later I saw Jane lying on her stomach next to the swimming pool at the club, and I said hello to her. I knew she lived in the house next to ours, but I'd never conversed with her before or anything. Pessoa 2 She gave me the. Pessoa 1 Big freeze when I said hello that day though, I had a hell of a time convincing her that I didn't give a good God damn where her dog relieved himself. He could do it in the living room for all I cared. Anyway, after that, Jane and I got to be friends and all. I played golf with her that same afternoon. She lost 8 balls. I remember 8. I had a terrible time getting her to at least open her eyes when she took a swing at the ball. I improved her game immensely though. I'm a very good golfer. If I told you what I go around in, you probably wouldn't believe me. I almost was once in a movie short, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I figured that anybody that hates the movies as much as I do, I'd be a phoney if I let them stick me in a movie short. She was a funny girl, old Jane. I wouldn't exactly describe her as strictly beautiful. She knocked me out though. She was sort of muckle mouthed. I mean, when she was talking and she got excited about something, her mouth sort of went off in about 50 directions. Her lips and all that killed me, and she never really closed it all the way in her mouth. It was always just a little bit open, especially when she got in her golf stance or when she was reading a book. She was always reading, and she read very good books. She read a lot of poetry and all. She was the only one outside of my family that I ever showed Allie's baseball MIT to, with all the poems written on it. She'd never met Allie or anything because that was her first summer in Maine. Before that, she went to Cape Cod, but I told her quite a lot about him. She was interested in that kind of stuff. My mother didn't like her too much. I mean, my mother always thought Jane and her mother were sort of snubbing her or something when they didn't say hello. My mother saw them in the village a lot because Jane used to drive to market with her mother in this LaSalle convertible they had. My mother didn't think Jane was pretty even. I did, though. I just like the way she looked, that's all. I remember this one afternoon. It was the only time old Jane and I ever got close to necking even. It was a Saturday and it was raining like a bastard out and I was over at her house on the porch. They had this big screened in porch. We were playing checkers. I used to kid her once in a while because she wouldn't take her kings out of the back row, but I didn't kid her too much. Though. You never wanted to kid Jane too much. I think I really like it best when you can kid the pants off a girl when the opportunity arises. But it's a funny thing. The girls I like best are the ones I never feel much like kidding. Sometimes I think they'd like it if you kidded them. In fact, I know they would, but it's hard to get started once you've known them a pretty long time and never kidded them. Anyway, I was telling you about that afternoon Jane and I came close to necking. It was raining like hell and we were out on her porch and all of a sudden this booze hound her mother was married to came out on the porch and asked Jane if there were any cigarettes in the house. I didn't know him too well or anything, but he looked like the kind of guy that wouldn't talk to you much unless he wanted something off you. He had a lousy personality. Anyway, Old Jane wouldn't answer him when he asked her if she knew where there was any cigarettes. So the guy asked her again, but she still wouldn't answer him. She didn't even look up from the game. Finally, the guy went inside the house. When he did, I asked Jane what the hell was going on. She wouldn't even answer me. Then she made out like she was concentrating on her next move in the game and all. Then all of a sudden, this tear plopped down on the checkerboard. I'm one of the red squares. Pessoa 2 Boy, I can still. Pessoa 1 See it? She just rubbed it into the board with her finger. I don't know why, but it bothered the hell out of me. So what I did was I went over and made her move over on the glider so that I could sit down next to her. I practically sat down in her lap as a matter of fact. Then she really started to cry and the next thing I knew I was kissing her all over anywhere. Her eyes, her nose, her forehead, her eyebrows and all her ears, her whole face except her mouth and all. She sort of wouldn't let me get to her mouth. Pessoa 2 Anyway, it was the. Pessoa 1 Closest we ever got to necking. After a while she got up and went in and put on this red and white sweater she had that knocked me out and we went to a God damn movie. I asked her on the way if Mr Cudahy, that was the booze hound's name, had ever tried to get wise with her. She was pretty young, but she had this terrific figure and I wouldn't have put it past that Cudahy bastard. She said no, though I never did find out what the hell was the matter. Some girls you practically never find out what's the matter. Pessoa 2 I don't want you to get the. Pessoa 1 Idea she was a goddamn icicle or something, just because we never necked or horsed around much. She wasn't. I held hands with her all the time, for instance. That doesn't sound like much, I realised, but she was terrific to hold hands with. Most girls, if you hold hands with them, the goddamn hand dies on you, or else they think they have to keep moving their hand all the time, as if they were afraid they bore you or something. Jane was different. We'd get into a goddamn movie or something, and right away we'd start holding hands and we wouldn't quit till the movie was over. And without changing the position or making a big deal out of it. You've never even worried with Jane whether your hand was sweaty or not. All you knew was you were happy. You really were. One other thing I just thought of one time in this movie, Jane did something that just about knocked me out. The news reel was on or something, and all of a sudden I felt this hand on the back of my neck and it was Jane's. It was a funny thing to do. I mean, she was quite young and all, and most girls, if you see them putting their hand on the back of somebody's neck, they're around 25 or 30, and usually they're doing it to their husband or their little kid. I'd do it to my kid sister Phoebe once in a while, for instance. But if a girl's quite young and all and she does it, it's so pretty. It just about kills you. Pessoa 2 Anyway, that's what. Pessoa 1 I was thinking about while I sat in that vomiting looking chair in the lobby, Old Jane. Every time I got to the part about her out with Strad ladder in that damn Ed Banky's car, it almost drove me crazy. I knew she wouldn't let him get to first base with her, but it drove me crazy anyway. I don't even like to talk about it if you want to know the truth. It was hardly anybody in the lobby anymore. Even all the horny looking blondes weren't around anymore and all of a sudden I felt like getting the hell out of the place. It was too depressing and I wasn't tired or anything, so I went up to my room and put on my coat. I also took a look out the window to see if all the perverts were still in action, but the lights and all were out now. I went down in the elevator again and got a cab and told the driver to take me down to Ernie's. Ernie's is this nightclub in Greenwich Village that my brother DB used to go to quite frequently before he went out to Hollywood and prostituted himself. He used to take me with him once in a while. Ernie's a big, fat coloured guy who plays the piano. He's a terrific snob and he won't hardly even talk to you unless you're a big shot or a celebrity or something, but he can really play the piano. He's so good he's almost corny. In fact, I don't know exactly what I mean by that, but I mean it. I certainly like to hear him play, but sometimes you feel like turning his goddamn piano over. I think it's because sometimes when he plays, he sounds like the kind of guy that won't talk to you unless you're a big chef. 12 The cab I had was a real old one that smelled like someone had just tossed his cookies in it. I always get those vomiting kind of cabs if I go anywhere late at night. What made it worse? It was so quiet and lonesome out. Even though it was Saturday night, I didn't see hardly anybody on the street. Now and then you just saw a man and a girl crossing the street with their arms around each other's waists and all. Or a bunch of hoodlummy looking guys in their dates, all of them laughing like hyenas. It's something you could bet wasn't funny. New York's terrible. When somebody laughs on the street very late at night, you can hear it for miles it. Pessoa 3 Makes you feel. Pessoa 1 So lonesome and depressed, I kept wishing I could go home and shoot the bull for a while with old Phoebe. But finally after I was riding while the cab driver and I sort of struck up a conversation. His name was Horvitz. He was a much better guy than the other driver I'd had. Anyway, I thought maybe he might know about the ducks. Hey, Horvitz, I said. You ever pass by the lagoon in Central Park? Down by Central Park South? The what? The lagoon. That little lake like there where the ducks are, you know? Yeah. What? Pessoa 2 About it, Well, you know the ducks. Pessoa 1 That swim around in it in the springtime and all. Do you happen to know where they go in the winter time by any chance? Where Who goes? Pessoa 2 The Ducks. Pessoa 1 Do you know by any chance? I mean, does somebody come around in a truck or something and take them away, or do they fly away by themselves, go South or something? Old Horvitz turned all the way around and looked at me. He was a very impatient type guy. He wasn't a bad guy, though. How the hell should I know? He said. How the hell should I know a stupid thing like that? Pessoa 2 Well, don't get sore. Pessoa 1 About it, I said he was sore about it or something. Who's sore? Pessoa 2 Nobody's sore. I stopped. Pessoa 3 Having a. Pessoa 1 Conversation with him if he was going to get so damn touchy about it, but he started it up again himself. He turned all the way around again and said the fish don't go no place. They stay right where they are. The fish right in the God damn lake, The fish that's different. The fish is different. I'm talking about the ducks. I said what's? Pessoa 2 Different. Pessoa 1 About it, nothing's different about it, Horvitz said. Everything he said, he sounded sore about something. It's tougher for the fish, the winter and all, than it is for the ducks. For Christ's sake. Use your head, for Christ's sake. I didn't say anything for about a minute. Then I said, all right, what do they do, the fish and all, when that whole little lake's a solid block of ice, people skating on it and all? Old Horvitz turned around again. What the hell do you mean what do they do? He yelled at me. They stay right. Pessoa 2 Where they are, for Christ's sake, they can't just. Pessoa 1 Ignore the ice. They can't just ignore it. Who's ignoring it? Nobody's ignoring it, Orvitz said. He got so damn excited and all, I was afraid he was going to drive the cab right into a lamp post or something. They live. Pessoa 2 Right. Pessoa 1 In the God damn ice. It's their nature for Christ's sake. They get frozen right in one position for the whole winter. Pessoa 2 Yeah. Pessoa 3 What do they eat? Pessoa 1 Then I mean, if they're frozen solid, they can't swim around looking for food and all their bodies, for Christ's sake, What's the matter with you, their bodies taking nutrition and all, right through the goddamn seaweed and crap that's in the ice. They got their pores open the whole time. That's their nature, for Christ's sake. See what I mean? He turned away the hell around again to look at me. Oh, I said I let it drop. I was afraid he was going to crack the damn taxi up or something. Besides, he was such a touchy guy, it wasn't any pleasure discussing anything with him. Would you care to stop off and have a drink with me somewhere? I said. He didn't answer me, though. I guess he was still thinking. I asked him again, though. He was a pretty good guy, quite amusing and all. I ain't got no time for no liquor, bud, he said. How the hell old? Pessoa 2 Are you anyways? Pessoa 1 Why ain't you home in bed? I'm not tired. When I got out in front of Ernie's and paid the fare, old Horvitz brought up the fish again. He certainly had it on his mind. Listen, he. Pessoa 2 Said. Pessoa 1 If you was a fish, Mother nature'd take care of you, wouldn't she? Right. Pessoa 2 You don't think? Pessoa 1 Them fish just die when it gets to be winter, do you? No, but you're God damn right they don't, Horvitz said and drove off like a bat out of hell. He was about the touchiest guy I ever met. Everything you said made him sore. Even though it was so late. Old Ernie's was jam packed, mostly with prep school jerks and college jerks. Almost every damn school in the world gets out earlier for Christmas vacation than the schools I go to. You could hardly check your code, it was so crowded. It was pretty quiet though, because Ernie was playing the piano. It was supposed to be something holy, for God's sake. When he sat down at the piano. Nobody's that good. About 3 couples besides me were waiting for tables and they were all shoving and standing on tip toes to get a look at Old Ernie while he played. He had a big damn mirror in front of the piano with this big spotlight on him so that everybody could watch his face while he played. You couldn't see his fingers while he played, just his big old face. Big deal. I'm not too sure what the name of the song was that he was playing when I came in, but whatever it was, he was really stinking it up. He was putting all these dumb show off you ripples in the high notes and a lot of other very tricky stuff that gives me a pain in the ass. You should have heard the crowd though. When he was finished you would have puked. They went mad. They were exactly the same morons that laughed like hyenas in the movies. It's stuff that isn't funny. I swear to God if I were a piano player or an actor or something and all those dopes thought I was terrific, I'd hate it. I wouldn't even want them to clap for me. People always clap for the wrong things. If I were a piano player, I'd play it in the God damn closet. Anyway, when he was finished and everybody was clapping their heads off, old Ernie turned around on his stool and gave this very phoney, humble bow. Like as if he was a hell of a humble guy. Besides being a terrific piano player, it was very phoney. I mean, him being such a big snob and all. In a funny way, though, I felt sort of sorry for him when he was finished. I don't even think he knows anymore when he's playing right or not. It isn't all his fault. I partly blame all those dopes that clap their heads off. They'd foul up anybody if you gave them a chance. Anyway, it made me feel depressed and lousy again and I damn near got my coat. Went back to the hotel, but it was too early and I didn't feel much like being all alone. They finally got me this stinking table right up against the wall and behind the goddamn post where you couldn't see anything. It was one of those tiny little tables that if the people at the next table don't get up to let you buy, and they never do, the bastards, you practically have to climb into your chair. I ordered a Scotch and soda, which is my favourite drink next to frozen daiquiris. If you were only around six years old, you could get liquor at Ernie's. The place was so dark and all, and besides, nobody cared how old you were. You could even be a dope fiend and nobody would care. I was surrounded by jerks. I'm not kidding. At this other tiny table right to my left, practically on top of me, there was this funny looking guy and this funny looking girl. They were around my age, or maybe just a little older. It was funny. You could see they were being careful as hell not to drink up the minimum too fast. I listened to their conversation for a while because I didn't have anything else to do. He was telling her about some Pro Football game he'd seen that afternoon. He gave her every single God damn play in the whole game. I'm not kidding, he was the most boring guy I ever listened to and you could tell his date wasn't even interested in the goddamn game. But she was even funnier looking than he was, so I guess she had to listen. Real ugly girls have it tough. I feel so sorry for them sometimes. Sometimes I can't even look at them, especially if they're with some dopey guy that's telling them all about a goddamn football game. On my right the conversation was even worse though. On my right, there was this very Joe Yale looking guy in a grey flannel suit and one of those flitty looking Tattersall vests. All those Ivy League bastards look alike. My father wants me to go to Yale, or maybe Princeton, but I swear I wouldn't go to one of those Ivy League colleges if I was dying, for God's sake. Anyway, this Joe Yale looking guy had a terrific looking girl with him. Boy she was good looking, but you should have heard the conversation they were having in the 1st place. They were both slightly crocked what he was doing. He was giving her a feel under the table and at the same time telling her all about some guy in his dorm that had eaten a whole bottle of aspirin and nearly committed suicide. His date kept saying to him how horrible. Don't darling, please don't, not here. Imagine giving somebody a feel and telling them about a guy committing suicide at the same time they killed me. I certainly began to feel like a prize horse's ass though. Sitting there all by myself. There wasn't anything to do except smoke and drink. What I did do though, I told the waiter to ask old Ernie if he'd care to join me for a drink. I told him to tell him I was D BS brother. I don't think he ever even gave him my message though. Those bastards never give you a message to anybody. Pessoa 3 All of a sudden. Pessoa 1 This girl came up to me and said Holden Caulfield. Her name was Lillian Simmons. My brother DB used to go around with her for a while. She had very big knockers. Hi, they said. I tried to get up naturally, but it was some job getting up in a place like that. She had some Navy officer with it. It looked like he had a poker up his ass. How marvellous to see you old Lillian Simmons said. Strictly a phoney. How's your Big Brother? That's all she really wanted to know. He's fine. He's in Hollywood. In Hollywood? How marvellous. What's he doing? I don't know, Writing, I said. I didn't feel like discussing it. You could tell she thought it was a big deal, his being in Hollywood. Almost everybody does. Most people who've never read any of his stories. It drives me crazy, though, how exciting, old Lillian said. Then she introduced me to the Navy guy. His name was Commander Blopp or something. He was one of those guys that think they're being a Pansy if they don't break around 40 of your fingers when they shake hands with you. God, I hate that stuff. Are you all alone, baby? Old Lillian asked me. She was blocking up the whole God damn traffic in the aisle. You could tell she liked to block up a lot of traffic. This waiter was waiting for her to move out of the way, but she didn't even notice him. It was funny. You could tell the waiter didn't like her much. You could tell even the Navy guy didn't like her much. Even though he was dating her and I didn't like her much, nobody did. You had to feel sort of sorry for her in a way. Don't you have a date, baby? She asked me. I was standing up now and she didn't even tell me to sit down. She was the type that keeps you standing up for hours. Isn't he handsome? She said to the Navy guy. Holden, you're getting handsomer by the minute. The Navy guy told her to come on. He told her they were blocking up the whole aisle. Holden, come join us. Old Lillian said bring your drink. I was just leaving. I told her I have to meet somebody. You could tell she was just trying to get in good with me so that I'd tell old DB about it. Well, you little so and so. All right for you. Tell your Big Brother I hate him when you see him. Then she left. The Navy guy and I told each other we were glad to have met each other, which always kills me. I'm always saying glad to have met you to somebody I'm not glad at all I met. If you want to stay alive, you have to say that stuff, though. After I told her I had to meet somebody, I didn't have any goddamn choice except to leave. I couldn't even stick around to hear old Ernie play something halfway decent. But I certainly wasn't going to sit down at a table with old Lillian Simmons and that Navy guy and be bored to death, so I left. It made me. Pessoa 3 Mad. Pessoa 1 Though when I was getting my coat, people are always ruining things for you. 13 I walked all the way back to the hotel. 41 gorgeous blocks. Pessoa 3 I didn't do it because. Pessoa 1 I felt like walking or anything. It was more because I didn't feel like getting in and out of another taxi cab. Sometimes you get tired of riding in taxi cabs the same way you get tired of riding in elevators. All of a sudden you have to walk, no matter how far, how high up. When I was a kid, I used to walk all the way up to our apartment very frequently. 12 stories. You wouldn't have even known it had snowed at all. There was hardly any snow on the sidewalks. But it was freezing cold, and I took my red hunting hat out of my pocket and put it on. I didn't give a damn how I looked. I even put the air lapse down. I wished I knew who'd swiped my gloves at Pensy, because my hands were freezing. Not that I'd have done much about it even if I had known. I'm one of those very yellow guys. Pessoa 3 I try not to. Pessoa 1 Show it. But I am. For instance, if I'd found out at Pensey who'd stolen my gloves, I probably would have gone down to the crooks room and said OK, how about handing over those gloves then the crook that had stolen them probably would have said, his voice very innocent and all. What gloves? Then what I probably would have done, I'd have gone in his closet and found the gloves somewhere hidden in his goddamn galoshes or something. For instance, I'd have taken them out and showed them to the guy and said, I suppose these are your goddamn gloves. Then the crook probably would have given me this very phoney, innocent look and said I never saw those gloves before in my life. If they're yours, take them, I don't want the goddamn things. Then I probably would have just stood there for about 5 minutes. I'd have the damn gloves right in my hand and all, but I'd feel I ought to suck the guy in the jaw or something. Break his goddamn jaw. Only I wouldn't have the guts to do it. I'd just stand there trying to look tough. What I might do, I might say something very cutting and snotty to rile him up instead of sucking him in the jaw. Anyway, if I did say something very cutting and snotty, he'd probably get up and come over to me and say, listen, Caulfield, are you calling me a crook? Then instead of saying you're goddamn right I am, you dirty crooked bastard, all I probably would have said would be all I know is my goddamn gloves were in your goddamn galoshes right away. Then the guy would know for sure that I wasn't going to take a sock at him and he probably would have said, listen, let's get this straight, are you calling me a thief? Then I probably would have said, nobody's calling anybody a thief. All I know is my gloves were in your God damn galoshes. It could go on like that for hours. Finally though, I'd leave his room without even taking a sock at him. I'd probably go down to the can and sneak a cigarette and watch myself getting tough in the mirror. Anyway, that's what I thought about the whole way back to the hotel. It's no fun to be yellow. Maybe I'm not all yellow. I don't know. I think maybe I'm just partly yellow and partly the type that doesn't give much of A damn if they lose their gloves. One of my troubles is I never care too much when I lose something. It used to drive my mother crazy when I was a kid. Some guys spend days looking for something they lost. I never seem to have anything that if I lost it, I'd care too much. Maybe that's why I'm partly yellow. It's no excuse though. It really isn't. What you should be is not yellow at all. If you're supposed to suck somebody in the jaw and you sort of feel like doing it, you should do it. I'm just no good at it, though. I'd rather push a guy out a window or chop his head off with an axe than sock him in the jaw. I hate fist fights. I don't mind getting hit so much, although I'm not crazy about it naturally. But what scares me most in a fist fight is the guy's face. I can't. Pessoa 3 Stand. Pessoa 1 Looking at the other guy's face is my trouble. It wouldn't be so bad if you could both be blindfolded or something. It's a funny kind of yellowness when you come to think of it, but it's yellowness, all right. I'm not kidding myself. The more I thought about my gloves and my yellowness, the more depressed I got, and I decided, while I was walking and all, to stop off and have a drink somewhere. I'd only had three drinks at Ernie's, and I didn't even finish the last one. One thing I have, it's a terrific capacity. I can drink all night and not even show it if I'm in the mood. Once at the Wooton school, this other boy, Raymond Goldfarb and I bought a pint of Scotch and drank it in the Chapel one Saturday night when nobody D see us. He got stinking but I hardly didn't even show it. I just got very cool and nonchalant. I puked before I went to bed, but I didn't really have to. I forced myself. Anyway, before I got to the hotel I started to go in this dumpy looking bar, but two guys came out drunk as hell and wanted to know where the subway was. One of them was this very Cuban looking guy and he kept breathing his stinking breath in my face while I gave him directions. I ended up not even going in the damn bar, I just went back to the hotel. The whole lobby was empty. It smelled like 50 million dead cigars. It really did. I wasn't sleepy or anything, but I was feeling sort of lousy, depressed and all. I almost wished I was dead. Then all of a sudden I got in this big mess. The first thing when I got in the elevator, the elevator guy said to me. Interested in having a good time fella, or is it too? Pessoa 2 Late. Pessoa 1 For you. Pessoa 2 How do you mean? Pessoa 1 I said I didn't know what he was driving at or anything. Pessoa 2 Interested in a? Pessoa 1 Little tail tonight, me, I said. Which was a very dumb answer, but it's quite embarrassing when somebody comes right up and asks you a question like that. How old are you? Pessoa 2 Chief, the elevator guy. Pessoa 1 Said why? I said 22. Pessoa 2 Well, how about? Pessoa 1 It you interested 5 bucks. Pessoa 4 A. Pessoa 1 Throw 15 bucks the whole night. He looked at his wristwatch. Till noon. 5 bucks a throw, 15 bucks till noon. OK, I said it was against my principles and all, but I was feeling so depressed I didn't even think. That's the whole trouble. When you're feeling very depressed, you can't even think, OK, what? Throw or till noon? I got to know. Just a throw. OK, what? Pessoa 4 Room you're in. Pessoa 2 I looked at the. Pessoa 1 Red thing with my number on it on my key, 12/22. I said I was already sort of sorry, I'd let the things start rolling, but it was too late now. OK, I'll send a girl up in about 15 minutes. He opened the doors and I got out. Hey, is she good looking? I asked him. I don't want any old bag. No old bag. Don't worry about it Chief. Who do I pay her? Pessoa 2 He said. Pessoa 1 Let's go, Chief. He shut the doors practically right in my face. I went to my room and put some water on my hair. But you can't really comb a crew cut or anything. Then I tested to see if my breath stank from so many cigarettes and the Scotch and sodas I drank at Ernie's. All you do is hold your hand under your mouth and blow your breath up toward the old nostrils. It didn't seem to stink much, but I brushed my teeth anyway. Then I put on another clean shirt. I knew I didn't have to get all dolled up for a prostitute or anything, but it gave me something to do. I was a little nervous. I was starting to feel pretty sexy and all, but I was a little nervous. Anyway, if you want to know the truth, I'm a virgin. I really am. I've had quite a few opportunities to lose my virginity and all, but I've never got around to it yet. Something always happens. For instance, if you're at a girls house, her parents always come home at the wrong time, or you're afraid they will. Or if you're in the back seat of somebody's car, there's always somebody's date in the front seat. Some girl, I mean that always wants to know what's going on all over the whole goddamn car. I mean, some girl in front keeps turning around to see what the Hell's going on. Anyway, something always happens. I came quite close to doing it a couple of times, though one time in particular I remember something went wrong, though I don't even remember what anymore. The thing is, most of the time when you're coming pretty close to doing it with a girl, a girl that isn't a prostitute or anything, I mean, she keeps telling you to stop. The trouble with me is I stop. Most guys don't. I can't help it. Pessoa 3 You never know. Pessoa 1 Whether they really want you to stop, or whether they're just scared as hell, or whether they're just telling you to stop so that if you do go through with it, the blame will be on you, not them. Anyway, I keep stopping. The trouble is I get to feeling sorry for them. I mean, most girls are so dumb and all after you neck them for a while you can really watch them losing their brains. You take a girl when she really gets passionate, she just hasn't any brains. I don't know. They tell me to stop, so I stop. I always wish I hadn't after I take them home, but I keep doing it anyway. Anyway, while I was putting on another clean shirt, I sort of figured this was my big chance in a way. I figured if she was a prostitute and all, I could get in some practise on her in case I ever get married or anything. I worry about that stuff sometimes. I read this book once at the Wooten School that had this very sophisticated, suave, sexy guy in it. Monsieur Blanchard was his name. I can still remember. It was a lousy book, but this Blanchard guy was pretty good. He had this big Chateau and all on the Riviera in Europe, and all he did in his spare time was beat women off with a club. He was a real rake and all, but he knocked women out. He said in this one part that a woman's body is like a violin and all, and that it takes a terrific musician to play it right. It was a very corny book, I realised that, but I couldn't get that violin stuff out of my mind anyway. In a way, that's why I sort of wanted to get some practise in, in case I ever get married. Caulfield and his magic violin boy. It's corny, I realise, but it isn't too corny. I wouldn't mind being pretty good at that stuff half the time if you really want to know the truth. When I'm horsing around with a girl, I have a hell of a lot of trouble just finding what I'm looking for. For God's sake, if you know what I mean, take this girl I just missed having sexual intercourse with that I told you about. It took me about an hour just to get her goddamn brassiere off. By the time I did get it off, she was about ready to spit in my eye. Anyway, I kept walking around the room waiting for this prostitute to show up. I kept hoping she'd be good looking. I didn't care too much though. I sort of just wanted to get it over with. Finally somebody knocked on the door and when I went to open it, I had my suitcase right in the way and I fell over it and damn near broke my knee. I always pick a gorgeous time to fall over a suitcase or something. When I opened the door, this prostitute was standing there. She had a polo coat on and no hat. She was sort of blind, but you could tell she dyed her hair. She wasn't any old bag, though. How do you do? I said suave as Hellboy. You the guy? Maurice said. She asked me. She didn't seem too goddamn friendly. Is he? Pessoa 2 The elevator. Pessoa 1 Boy, yeah, she said. Yes, I am. Come in, won't you? I said. I was getting more and more nonchalant as it went along. I really was. She came in and took a coat off right away and sort of chucked it on the bed. She had on a green dress underneath. Then she sort of sat down sideways on the chair that went with the desk in the room and started jiggling her foot up and down. She crossed her legs and started jiggling this one foot up and down. She was very nervous for a prostitute, she really was. I think it was because she was young as hell. She was around my age. I sat down in the big chair next to her and offered her a cigarette. I don't smoke, she said. She had a tiny little weeny whiny voice. You could hardly hear her. She never said thank you either when you offered her something. She just didn't know any better. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jim Steele, I said. You got to watch on ya, she said. She didn't care what the hell my name was, naturally. Hey, how old are you anyways? Me 22 like. Pessoa 3 Fun you are. It was a funny. Pessoa 2 Thing to say. Pessoa 1 It sounded like a real kid, you'd think a prostitute and all would say like hell you are or cut the crap instead of like fun you are. How old are? Pessoa 2 You. I asked her. Pessoa 1 Old enough to know better, she said. She was really witty. You got to watch on you? She asked me again. And then she stood up and pulled her dress over her head. I certainly felt peculiar when she did that. I mean, she did it so sudden and all. I know you're supposed to feel pretty sexy when somebody gets up and pulls their dress over their head, but I didn't. Sexy was about the last thing I was feeling. I felt much more depressed than sexy. You got to watch on you. Hey, No, no I don't, I said. Boy, was I feeling peculiar. What's your name? I asked her. All she had on was this pink slip. It was really quite embarrassing. It really was Sunny, she said. Let's go. Hey, don't you feel like talking for a while? I asked her. It was a childish thing to say, but I was feeling so damn peculiar. Are you in a very big hurry? She looked at me like I was a madman. What the heck you want to talk about? She said I don't know, nothing special, I just thought perhaps you might care to chat for a while. She sat down on the chair next to the desk again. She didn't like it though, you could tell. She started jiggling her foot again. Boy, she was a nervous girl. Would you care for a cigarette now? I said. I forgot she didn't smoke. I don't smoke. Listen, if you're going to talk, do it. I got things to do. Pessoa 3 I couldn't think of. Pessoa 1 Anything to talk about, though. I thought of asking her how she got to be a prostitute and all, but I was scared to ask her. She probably wouldn't have told me anyway. You don't come from New York, do you? I said finally. That's all I could think of. Hollywood. Pessoa 3 She said. Pessoa 1 Then she got up and went over to where she'd put her dress down on the bed. You got to hang her. I don't want to get my dress all wrinkly. It's bringing clean. Sure, I said right away. I was only too glad to get up and do something. I took her dress over to the closet and hung it up for her. It was funny. It made me feel sort of sad when I hung it up. I thought of her going in a store and buying it. The salesman probably just thought she was a regular girl when she bought it. It made me feel sad as hell. I don't know why exactly. I sat down again and tried to keep the old conversation going. She was a lousy conversationalist. Do you work every night? I asked her. It sounded sort of awful after I'd said it. Yeah, she was walking all around the room. She picked up the menu off the desk and read it. What do you do during the day? She sort of shrugged her shoulders. She was pretty skinny. Sleep, go to the show. She put down the menu and looked at me. Let's go. Hey, I hadn't got all. Look, I said. I don't feel very much like myself tonight. I've had a rough night. Honest to God. I'll pay you and all, but do you mind very much if we don't do it? Do you mind very much? The trouble was, I just didn't want to do it. I felt more depressed and sexy. If you want to know the truth, She was depressing, her green dress hanging in the closet and all. And besides, I don't think I could ever do it with somebody that sits in a stupid movie all day long. I really don't think I could. She came over to me with this funny look on her face, like as if she didn't believe me. What's the matter? She said nothing. Pessoa 2 'S the matter. Boy was I. Pessoa 1 Getting nervous. The thing is, I had an operation very recently, yeah. Pessoa 2 Where on my. Pessoa 1 What do you call it? My clavichord? Yeah. Where the Hell's that? The clavichord? I said. Well, actually, it's in the spinal canal. I mean, it's it's quite a ways down in the spinal canal. Yeah. She said that's tough. Then she sat down on my God damn lap. You're cute. She made me so nervous. I just kept on lying my head off. I'm still recuperating. I told her you look like a guy in the movies. You know who's this? You know who? Pessoa 3 I. Pessoa 1 Mean, what the heck's his name? I don't know, I said. She wouldn't get off my God damn lap. Sure, you'd know. Pessoa 3 He was in that picture. Pessoa 1 With Melvine Douglas, the one that was Melvine Douglas's kid brother that falls off this boat you. Pessoa 3 Know who I mean? No, I don't. Pessoa 1 I go to the movies as seldom as I can. Then she started getting funny, crude and all. Do you mind cutting it out? I said. I'm not in the mood. I just told you I just had an operation. She didn't get up from my lap or anything, but she gave me this terrifically dirty look. Listen, she said I was sleeping when that crazy Maurice woke me up. If you think I'm I said I'd pay you for coming and all. I really will. I have plenty of though. It's just that I'm practically just recovering from a very serious What the heck did you tell that crazy Maurice he wanted a girl for? Then if you just had a God damn operation on your God damn, what do you call it, huh? I thought I'd be feeling a lot better than I do. I was a little premature in my calculations. No kidding. I'm sorry if you'll just get up 2nd, I'll get my wallet. I mean it. She was sore as hell, but she got up off my God damn lap so that I could go over and get my wallet off the chiffonier. I took out a $5.00 bill and handed it to her. Thanks a lot. Pessoa 3 I told her. Pessoa 1 Thanks a million. This is a 5. It costs 10. She was getting funny, you could tell. I was afraid something like that would happen. I really was, Maurice said. Five. I told her he said 15 till noon and only 5 for a throw. 10 for a throw, he said. Five. I'm sorry, I really am, but that's all I'm going to shell out. She sort of shrugged her shoulders the way she did before, and then she said, very cold. Do you mind getting me my frock, or would it be too much trouble? She was a pretty spooky kid, even with that little bitty voice she had, she could sort of scare you a little bit. If she'd been a big old prostitute with a lot of makeup on her face and all, she wouldn't have been half as spooky. I went and got her dress for her. She put it on and all, and then she picked up her polo coat off the bed. So long, Crumbum, she said. So long. I said. I didn't thank her or anything. I'm glad I didn't. 14 After old Sonny was gone, I sat in the chair for a while and smoked a couple of cigarettes. It was getting daylight outside. Boy, I felt miserable. I felt so depressed. You can't imagine what I did. I started talking sort of out loud to Allie. Pessoa 3 I do that. Pessoa 1 Sometimes when I get very depressed, I kept telling him to go home and get his bike and meet me in front of Bobby Fallon's house. Bobby Fallon used to live quite near us in Maine. This is years ago. Anyway, what happened was one day Bobby and I were going over to Lake Sedabago on our bikes. We were going to take our lunches and all and our BB guns. We were kids and all and we thought we could shoot something with our BB guns. Anyway, Allie heard us talking about it and he wanted to go and I wouldn't let him. I told him he was a child. So once in a while now when I get very depressed, I keep saying to him, OK go home and get your bike and meet me in front of Bobby's house. Hurry up. It wasn't that I didn't used to take him with me when I went somewhere, I did, but that one day I didn't. He didn't get sore about it. He never got sore about anything. But I keep thinking about it anyway when I get very depressed. Finally though, I got undressed and got in bed. I felt like praying or something when I was in bed, but I couldn't do it. I can't always pray when I feel like it in the first place. I'm sort of an atheist. I like Jesus and all, but I don't care too much for most of the other stuff in the Bible. Take the disciples for instance. They annoy the hell out of me if you want to know the truth. They were all right after Jesus was dead and all, but while he was alive they were about as much used to him as a hole in the head. All they did was keep letting him down. I like almost anybody in the Bible better than the disciples if you want to know the truth. The guy I like best in the Bible next to Jesus was that lunatic and all that lived in the tombs and kept cutting himself with stones. I like him 10 times as much as the disciples. That poor bastard. I used to get in quite a few arguments about it when I was at the Wooten school with this boy that lived down the corridor, Arthur Childs. Old Childs was a Quaker and all and he read the Bible all the time. He was a very nice kid and I liked him, but I could never see eye to eye with him on a lot of stuff in the Bible, especially the disciples. He kept telling me if I didn't like the disciples, then I didn't like Jesus and all. He said that because Jesus picked the disciples, you were supposed to like them. I said I knew he picked them, but that he picked them at random. I said he didn't have to go around analysing everybody. I said I wasn't blaming Jesus or anything, it wasn't his fault that he didn't have any time. I remember I asked old Childs if he thought Judas the one that betrayed Jesus and all went to hell after he committed suicide. Child said certainly that's exactly where I disagreed with him. I said I'd bet 1000 bucks that Jesus never sent old Judas to hell. I still would too. If I had 1000 bucks, I think any one of the disciples would have sent him to hell and all, and fast too. But I'll bet anything Jesus didn't do it. Old child said the trouble with me was that I didn't go to church or anything. He was right about that in a way I don't in the 1st place. My parents are different religions and all the children in our family are atheists if you want to know the truth. I can't even stand ministers. The ones they've had at every school I've gone to, they all have these holy Joe voices when they start giving their sermons. God I hate that. I don't see why the hell they can't talk in their natural voice. They sound so phoney when they talk. Anyway, when I was in bed I couldn't pray worth a damn. Every time I got started, I kept picturing old Sonny calling me a crumb bum. Finally, I sat up in bed and smoked another cigarette. It tasted lousy. I must have smoked around 2 packs since I left Pencey. All of a sudden, while I was laying there smoking, somebody knocked at the door. I kept hoping it wasn't my door they were knocking on, but I knew damn well it was. I don't know how I knew, but I knew I knew who it was too. And I'm psychic. Who's there? I said I was pretty scared. I'm very yellow about these things. They just knocked again, though louder. Finally, I got out of bed with just my pyjamas on and opened the door. I didn't even have to turn the light on in the room because it was already daylight. Old Sonny and Maurice, the pimpy elevator guy, were standing there. What's the matter? What do you want? I said. Boy, my voice was shaking like hell. Nothing much, old Maurice said. Just five. Pessoa 4 Bucks he. Pessoa 3 Did all the talking. Pessoa 1 For the two of them, old Sonny just stood there next to him with her mouth open and all. I paid her already. I gave her 5 bucks. Ask her, I said. Boy was in my voice, shaking. It's 10 bucks, chief. I told you that. 10 bucks for a throw, 15 bucks till noon. I told you that. You did not tell me that you said 5 bucks a throw. You said 15 bucks till noon. All right. But I distinctly heard you open up, Chief. What for? I said. God, my old heart was damn near beating me out of the room. I wished I was dressed at least. It's terrible to be just in your pyjamas when something like that happens. Let's go, chief, old Maurice said. Then he gave me a big shove with his crummy hand. I damn near fell over on my can. He was a huge son of a bitch. The next thing I knew, he and old Sonny were both in the room. They acted like they owned the damn place. Old Sonny sat down on the window sill. Old Maurice sat down in the big chair and loosened his collar and all. He was wearing this elevator operatus uniform. Boy, was I nervous. All right, Chief. Pessoa 4 Let's have it. Pessoa 1 I got to get back to work. I told you about 10 times. I don't owe you a cent. I already gave her the five. Cut the crap, now let's have it. Why should I give her another 5 bucks? I said. My voice is cracking all over the place. You're trying to chisel me. Old Maurice unbuttoned his whole uniform coat. All he had on underneath was a phoney shirt collar, but no shirt or anything. He had a big, fat, hairy stomach. Nobody's trying to chisel. Nobody, he said. Let's have it. Pessoa 4 Chief. Pessoa 1 No, when I said that he got up from his chair and started walking towards me and all he looked like he was very very tired or very, very bored. God, was I scared. I sort of had my arms folded. I remember it wouldn't have been so bad, I don't think, if I hadn't had just my goddamn pyjamas on. Pessoa 2 Let's have it, Chief. Pessoa 4 He came right. Pessoa 1 Up to where I was standing, that's all he could say. Let's. Pessoa 2 Have it. Pessoa 1 Chief, He was a real moron. No, Chief. Pessoa 2 You're going to. Pessoa 1 Force me into roughing you up a little bit. Pessoa 4 I don't want to do. Pessoa 1 It, but that's the way it looks, he said. You owe us 5 bucks. I don't owe you 5 bucks, I said. If you rough me up I'll yell like hell. I'll wake up everybody in the hotel, the police and all. My voice was shaking like a bastard. Go ahead, yell your God damn head off Fine. Pessoa 3 Old, Maurice said. Pessoa 1 Want your parents to know you spent the night with a whore? High class kid like you. He was pretty sharp in his crummy way. He really was. Leave me alone. If you'd said 10 it'd be different, but you distinctly. Are you going to let us have it? He had me right up against the damn door. He was almost standing on top of me, his crummy old hairy stomach and all. Leave me alone. Get the hell out of my room, I said. I still had my arms folded and all. God, what a jerk I was. Then Sonny said something for the first time. Hey, Maurice, want me to get his wallet? She said it's right on the whatchamacallit. Pessoa 3 Yeah, get. Pessoa 1 It leave my wallet alone I already got. Pessoa 3 It, Sonny said. Pessoa 1 She waved 5 bucks at me. See. Pessoa 3 All I'm taking. Pessoa 1 Is the five you owe me. I'm no. Pessoa 3 Crook. Pessoa 1 All of a sudden I started to cry. I'd give anything if I hadn't, but I did. No, you're no crooks, I said. You're just stealing 5 Shut up. Pessoa 2 Old Marie said. Pessoa 1 And gave me a shove. Leave him alone. Hey, Sonny said. Come on. Hey, we got the dough. He owes us. Let's go. Come on. Hey, I'm coming, old Maurice said. But he didn't. I mean it, Maurice. Hey, leave him alone. Who's hurting? Pessoa 2 Anybody. Pessoa 1 He said innocent as hell. Then what he did, He snapped his finger very hard on my pyjamas. I won't tell you where he snapped it, but it hurt like hell. I told him he was a goddamn dirty moron. What's that? He said. He put his hand behind his ear like a deaf guy. What's that? What am I? I was still sort of crying. I was so damn mad and nervous and all. You're a dirty moron, I said. You're a stupid, chiselling moron and in about two years you'll be one of those scraggy guys that come up to you on the street and ask for a dime for coffee. You'll have snot all over your dirty, filthy overcoat and you'll be. Then he smacked me. I didn't even try to get out of the way or duck or anything. All I felt was this terrific punch in my stomach. I wasn't knocked out or anything though, because I remember looking up from the floor and seeing them both go out the door and shut it. Then I stayed on the floor a fairly long time, sort of the way I did with Strad Ladder. Only this time I thought I was dying. I really did. I thought I was drowning or something. The trouble was, I could hardly breathe. When I did finally get up, I had to walk to the bathroom, all doubled up and holding on to my stomach and all, but I'm crazy, I swear to God I am. About halfway to the bathroom I started pretending I had a bullet in my guts. Old Maurice had plugged me. Now I was on the way to the bathroom to get a good shot of bourbon or something to steady my nerves and help me really go into action. I pictured myself coming out of the goddamn bathroom, dressed in all, with my automatic in my pocket and staggering around a little bit. Then I'd walk downstairs. Instead of using the elevator, I'd hold onto the Bannister and all with his blood trickling out of the side of my mouth a little at a time. What I'd do, I'd walk down a few floors, holding on to my guts, blood leaking all over the place, and then I'd ring the elevator bell. As soon as old Maurice opened the doors, he'd see me with the automatic in my hand and he'd start screaming at me in this very high pitched yellow belly voice to leave him alone. But I'd plug him anyway. Six shots right through his fat hairy belly. Then I'd throw my automatic down the elevator shaft after I'd wiped off all the fingerprints and all. Then I'd crawl back to my room and call up Jane and have her come over and bandage up my guts. I pictured her holding a cigarette for me to smoke while I was bleeding. And all the God damn movies. They can ruin you, I'm not kidding. I stayed in the bathroom for about an hour, taking a bath and all. Then I got back in bed. It took me quite a while to get to sleep. I wasn't even tired. But finally I did. What I really felt like, though, was committing suicide. I felt like jumping out the window. I probably would have done it too if I'd been sure somebody would cover me up as soon as I landed. I didn't want a bunch of stupid rubbernecks looking at me when I was all gory 15. I didn't sleep too long because I think it was only around 10:00 when I woke up. I felt pretty hungry as soon as I had a cigarette. The last time I'd eaten was those two hamburgers I had with Brossard and Ackley when we went into Hagerstown to the movies. That was a long time ago. It seemed like 50 years ago. The phone was right next to me and I started to call down and have them send up some breakfast, but I was sort of afraid they might send it up with old Maurice. If you think I was dying to see him again, you're crazy. So I just laid around in bed for a while and smoked another cigarette. I thought of giving old Jane a buzz to see if she was home yet and all, but I wasn't in the mood. What I did do, I gave old Sally Hayes a buzz. She went to Mary A Woodruff and I knew she was home because I'd had this letter from her a couple of weeks ago. I wasn't too crazy about her, but I'd known her for years. I used to think she was quite intelligent in my stupidity. The reason I did was because she knew quite a lot about the theatre and plays and literature and all that stuff. If somebody knows quite a lot about those things, it takes you quite a while to find out whether they're really stupid or not. It took me years to find out. In old Sally's case, I think I'd have found out a lot sooner if we hadn't necked so damn much. My big trouble is, I always sort of think whoever I'm necking is a pretty intelligent person. It hasn't got a God damn thing to do with it, but I keep thinking it anyway. Anyway, I gave her a buzz. First the maid answered, then her father. Then she got on Sally. I said yes, who is this? She said she was quite a little phoney. I'd already told her father who it was. Holden Caulfield. How are you, Holden? I'm fine. How are you? Swell. Listen. How are you anyway? I mean, how's school? Fine. She. Pessoa 2 Said. Pessoa 1 I mean, you know, swell. Well, listen, I was wondering if you were busy today. It's Sunday, but there's always one or two matinees going on Sunday, benefits and all that stuff. Would you care to go? I'd love to go Grand Grand, but there's one word I hate. It's grand. It's so phoney. For a second I was tempted to tell her to forget about the matinee, but we chewed the fat for a while. That is, she chewed it. You couldn't get a word in edgewise. First she told me about some Harvard guy. It was probably a freshman, but she didn't say. Naturally, that was rushing hell out of her, calling her up night and day, night and day. That killed me. Then she told me about some other guy, some West Point cadet that was cutting his throat over her too. Big deal. I told her to meet me under the clock at the Biltmore at 2:00 and not to be late because the show probably started at 2:30. She was always late. Then I hung up. She gave me a pain in the ass, but she was very good looking. After I made the date with Old Sally, I got out of bed and got dressed and packed my bag. I took a look out the window before I left the room though to see how all the perverts were doing. But they had all their shades down. They were the height of modesty in the morning. Then I went down in the elevator and checked out. I didn't see old Maurice around anywhere. I didn't break my neck looking for him, naturally, the bastard. I got a cab outside the hotel, but I didn't have the faintest damn idea where I was going. I had no place to go. It was only Sunday and I couldn't go home till Wednesday or Tuesday the soonest. And I certainly didn't feel like going to another hotel and getting my brains beat out. So what I did? I told the driver to take me to Grand Central Station. It was right near the Biltmore where I was meeting Sally later, and I figured what I'd do. I'd check my bags in one of those strong boxes that they give you a key to, then get some breakfast. I was sort of hungry. While I was in the cab. I took out my wallet and sort of counted my money. I don't remember exactly what I had left, but it was no fortune or anything. I'd spend a King's ransom in about two lousy weeks. I really had. I'm a goddamn spendthrift at heart. When I don't spend, I lose. Half the time I sort of even forget to pick up my change at restaurants and nightclubs and all. It drives my parents crazy. You can't blame them. My father's quite wealthy, though I don't know how much he makes. He's never discussed that stuff with me, but I imagine. Pessoa 2 Quite a lot. Pessoa 1 He's a corporation lawyer. Those boys really haul it in. Another reason I know he's quite well off. He's always investing money in shows on Broadway. They always flop though, and it drives my mother crazy when he does it. She hasn't felt too healthy since my brother Allie died. She's very nervous. That's another reason why I hated like hell for her to know I got the axe again. After I put my bags in one of those strong boxes at the station, I went into this little sandwich bar and had breakfast. I had quite a large breakfast for me. Orange juice, bacon and eggs, toast and coffee. Usually I just drink some orange juice. I'm a very light eater, I really am. That's why I'm so damn skinny. I was supposed to be on this diet where you eat a lot of starches and crap to gain weight and all, but I didn't ever do it. When I'm out somewhere I generally just eat a Swiss cheese sandwich and a malted milk. It isn't much, but you get quite a lot of vitamins in the malted milk. HV Caulfield. Holden Vitamin Caulfield while I was eating my eggs, these two nuns with suitcases and all. I guess they were moving to another convent or something and we're waiting for a train, came in and sat down next to me at the counter. They didn't seem to know what the hell to do with their suitcases, so I gave them a hand. They were these very inexpensive looking suitcases, the ones that aren't genuine leather or anything. It isn't important, I know, but I hate it when somebody has cheap suitcases it. Pessoa 3 Sounds terrible to say it. Pessoa 1 But I can even get to hate somebody just looking at them if they have cheap suitcases with them. Something happened once for a while when I was at Elkton Hills. I roomed with this boy Dick Slagel that had these very inexpensive suitcases. He used to keep them under the bed instead of on the rack so that nobody'd see them standing next to mine. It depressed the holy hell out of me and I kept wanting to throw mine out or something, or even trade with him. Mine came from Mark Cross, and they were genuine cowhide and all that crap, and I guess they cost quite a pretty penny, but it was a funny thing. Here's what happened. What I did? I finally put my suitcases under my bed instead of on the rack so that old Slaggle wouldn't get a goddamn inferiority complex about it. But here's what he did. The day after I put mine under my bed, he took them out and put them back on the rack. The reason he did it, it took me a while to find out, was because he wanted people to think my bags were his. He really did. He was a very funny guy that way. He was always saying snotty things about them. My suitcases, for instance, he kept saying they were too new and bourgeois. That was his favourite goddamn word. He read it somewhere or heard it somewhere. Everything I had was bourgeois as hell. Even my fountain pen was bourgeois. He borrowed it off me all the time, but it was bourgeois. Anyway, we only room together about two months, then we both asked to be moved. And The funny thing was, I sort of missed him after we moved because he had a hell of a good sense of humour and we had a lot of fun. Sometimes I wouldn't be surprised if he missed me too. At first he only used to be kidding when he called my stuff bourgeois and I didn't give a damn. It was sort of funny, in fact. Then after a while you could tell he wasn't kidding anymore. The thing is, it's really hard to be roommates with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs. If yours are really good ones and there's aren't, you think if they're intelligent and all the other person and have a good sense of humour that they don't give a damn whose suitcases are better. But they do, they really do. It's one of the reasons why I roomed with a stupid bastard like Strad Ladder. At least his suitcases were as good as mine. Anyway, these two nuns were sitting next to me and we sort of struck up a conversation. The one right next to me had one of those straw baskets that you see nuns and Salvation Army babes collecting dough with around Christmas time. You see them standing on corners, especially 5th Ave, in front of the big department stores and all. Anyway, the one next to me dropped hers on the floor and I reached down and picked it up for her. I asked her if she was out collecting money for charity and all. She said no. She said she couldn't get it in her suitcase when she was packing it and she was just carrying it. She had a pretty nice smile when she looked at you. She had a big nose and she had on those glasses with sort of iron rims that aren't too attractive, but she had a hell of a kind face. I thought if you were taking up a collection, I told her I could make a small contribution. You could keep the money for when you do take up a collection. Oh, how very kind of you, she said. And the other one? Her friend looked over at me. The other one.