Уловка 22

Clevinger

           "I’mnotjoking,"Clevingerpersisted.

           "They’retryingtokillme,"Yossariantoldhimcalmly.

           "Noone’stryingtokillyou,"Clevingercried.

           "Thenwhyaretheyshootingatme?"Yossarianasked.

           "They’reshootingateveryone,"Clevingeranswered."They’retryingtokilleveryone."

           "Andwhatdifferencedoesthatmake?"

           Clevingerwasalreadyontheway,halfoutofhischairwithemotion,hiseyesmoistandhislipsquiveringandpale.Asalwaysoccurredwhenhequarreledoverprinciplesinwhichhebelievedpassionately,hewouldendupgaspingfuriouslyforairandblinkingbackbittertearsofconviction.ThereweremanyprinciplesinwhichClevingerbelievedpassionately.Hewascrazy.

           "Who’sthey?"hewantedtoknow."Who,specifically,doyouthinkistryingtomurderyou?"

           "Everyoneofthem,"Yossariantoldhim.

           "Everyoneofwhom?"

           "Everyoneofwhomdoyouthink?"

           "Ihaven’tanyidea."

           "Thenhowdoyouknowtheyaren’t?"

           "Because..."Clevingersputtered,andturnedspeechlesswithfrustration.

           Clevingerreallythoughthewasright,butYossarianhadproof,becausestrangershedidn’tknowshotathimwithcannonseverytimeheflewupintotheairtodropbombsonthem,anditwasn’tfunnyatall.Andifthatwasn’tfunny,therewerelotsofthingsthatweren’tevenfunnier.

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