Гроздья гнева

           Helookedupfromthehamburgerhewaspattingthinandstackingbetweenwaxedpapers."Whatyawant?"

           "Lookthere."Shepointedatthecoinsbesidethecups—twohalf-dollars.Alwalkednearandlooked,andthenhewentbacktowork.

           "Truckdrivers,"Maesaidreverently,"an’afterthemshitheels."

           Fliesstruckthescreenwithlittlebumpsanddronedaway.Thecompressorchuggedforatimeandthenstopped.On66thetrafficwhizzedby,trucksandfinestreamlinedcarsandjalopies;andtheywentbywithaviciouswhiz.Maetookdowntheplatesandscrapedthepiecrustsintoabucket.Shefoundherdampclothandwipedthecounterwithcircularsweeps.Andhereyeswereonthehighway,wherelifewhizzedby.

           Alwipedhishandsonhisapron.Helookedatapaperpinnedtothewalloverthegriddle.Threelinesofmarksincolumnsonthepaper.Alcountedthelongestline.Hewalkedalongthecountertothecashregister,rang"NoSale,"andtookoutahandfulofnickels.

           "Whatyadoin’?"Maeasked.

           "Numberthree’sreadytopayoff,"saidAl.Hewentonthethirdslotmachineandplayedhisnickelsin,andonthefifthspinofthewheelsthethreebarscameupandthejackpotdumpedoutintothecup.Algatheredupthebighandfulofcoinsandwentbackofthecounter.Hedroppedtheminthedrawerandslammedthecashregister.Thenhewentbacktohisplaceandcrossedoutthelineofdots."Numberthreegetsmoreplay’ntheothers,"hesaid."MaybeIoughttoshift’emaround."