Девять рассказов

           Feelingvirtuegooutofme,Ilitacigaretteintheinstructors’roomforthefirsttimesinceI’djoinedthestaff.Itseemedtohelp,andIturnedbacktoBambi’swork.ButbeforeI’dtakenmorethanthreeorfourdrags,Ifelt,withoutactuallyglancingupandover,thatM.Yoshotowaslookingatme.Then,forconfirmation,Iheardhischairbeingpushedback.Asusual,Igotuptomeethimwhenhecameover.Heexplainedtome,inabloodyirritatingwhisper,thathepersonallyhadnoobjectiontosmoking,butthat,alas,theschool’spolicywasagainstsmokingintheinstructors’room.Hecutshortmyprofuseapologieswithamagnanimouswaveofhishand,andwentbackovertohisandMme.Yoshoto’ssideoftheroom.Iwondered,inarealpanic,howIwouldmanagetogetsanelythroughthenextthirteendaystotheMondaywhenSisterIrma’snextenvelopewasdue.

           ThatwasTuesdaymorning.Ispenttherestoftheworkingdayandalltheworkingportionsofthenexttwodayskeepingmyselffeverishlybusy.ItookallofBambiKramer’sandR.HowardRidgefield’sdrawingsapart,asitwere,andputthemtogetherwithbrand-newparts.Idesignedforbothofthemliterallydozensofinsulting,subnormal,butquiteconstructive,drawingexercises.Iwrotelongletterstothem.IalmostbeggedR.HowardRidgefieldtogiveuphissatireforawhile.IaskedBambi,withmaximumdelicacy,topleaseholdoff,temporarily,submittinganymoredrawingswithtitleskindredto"ForgiveThemTheirTrespasses."