Уловка 22

Clevinger

           Therewasshish-kabobforlunch,huge,savoryhunksofspittedmeatsizzlinglikethedevilovercharcoalaftermarinatingseventy-twohoursinasecretmixtureMilohadstolenfromacrookedtraderintheLevant,servedwithIranianriceandasparagustipsParmesan,followedbycherriesjubileefordessertandthensteamingcupsoffreshcoffeewithBenedictineandbrandy.ThemealwasservedinenormoushelpingsondamasktableclothsbytheskilledItalianwaitersMajordeCoverleyhadkidnappedfromthemainlandandgiventoMilo.

           Yossariangorgedhimselfinthemesshalluntilhethoughthewouldexplodeandthensaggedbackinacontentedstupor,hismouthfilmywithasucculentresidue.NoneoftheofficersinthesquadronhadevereatensowellastheyateregularlyinMilo’smesshall,andYossarianwonderedawhileifitwasn’tperhapsallworthit.Butthenheburpedandrememberedthattheyweretryingtokillhim,andhesprintedoutofthemesshallwildlyandranlookingforDocDaneekatohavehimselftakenoffcombatdutyandsenthome.HefoundDocDaneekainsunlight,sittingonahighstooloutsidehistent.

           "Fiftymissions,"DocDaneekatoldhim,shakinghishead."Thecolonelwantsfiftymissions."

           "ButI’veonlygotforty-four!"

           DocDaneekawasunmoved.Hewasasad,birdlikemanwiththespatulatefaceandscrubbed,taperingfeaturesofawell-groomedrat.

           "Fiftymissions,"herepeated,stillshakinghishead."Thecolonelwantsfiftymissions."

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