Уловка 22

Kid Sampson

           Nately,sittingstifflyintheco-pilot’sseat,spiedhimthroughthecornerofhiseyeashesteppedupontheflightdeckbehindKidSampson.HesmiledatYossarianwanly,lookingfrailandexceptionallyyoungandbashfulinthebulkydungeonofhisearphones,hat,throatmike,flaksuitandparachute.YossarianbentclosetoKidSampson’sear.

           "Istillcan’thearyou,"heshoutedabovetheevendroneoftheengines.

           KidSampsonglancedbackathimwithsurprise.KidSampsonhadanangular,comicalfacewitharchedeyebrowsandascrawnyblondmustache.

           "What?"hecalledoutoverhisshoulder.

           "Istillcan’thearyou,"Yossarianrepeated.

           "You’llhavetotalklouder,"KidSampsonsaid."Istillcan’thearyou."

           "IsaidIstillcan’thearyou!"Yossarianyelled.

           "Ican’thelpit,"KidSampsonyelledbackathim."I’mshoutingasloudasIcan."

           "Icouldn’thearyouovermyintercom,"Yossarianbellowedinmountinghelplessness."You’llhavetoturnback."

           "Foranintercom?"askedKidSampsonincredulously.

           "Turnback,"saidYossarian,"beforeIbreakyourhead."

           KidSampsonlookedformoralsupporttowardNately,whostaredawayfromhimpointedly.Yossarianoutrankedthemboth.KidSampsonresisteddoubtfullyforanothermomentandthencapitulatedeagerlywithatriumphantwhoop.

           "That’sjustfinewithme,"heannouncedgladly,andblewoutashrillseriesofwhistlesupintohismustache."Yessirree,that’sjustfinewitholdKidSampson."

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