Сияние

The Bedroom

           JackhadseenDenkertheteacherasnotmuchdifferentfromthestruttingSouthAmericanlittleCaesarsintheirbananakingdoms,standingdissidentsupagainstthewallofthehandiestsquashorhandballcourt,asuper-zealotinacomparativelysmallpuddle,amanwhoseeverywhimbecomesacrusade.Inthebeginninghehadwantedtousehisplayasamicrocosmtosaysomethingabouttheabuseofpower.NowhetendedmoreandmoretoseeDenkerasaMr.Chipsfigure,andthetragedywasnottheintellectualrackingofGaryBensonbutratherthedestructionofakindlyoldteacherandheadmasterunabletoseethroughthecynicalwilesofthismonstermasqueradingasaboy.

           Hehadn’tbeenabletofinishtheplay.

           Nowhesatlookingdownatit,scowling,wonderingiftherewasanywayhecouldsalvagethesituation.Hedidn’treallythinktherewas.Hebadbegunwithoneplayandithadsomehowturnedintoanother,presto-chango.Well,whatthehell.Eitherwayithadbeendonebefore.Eitherwayitwasaloadofshit.Andwhywashedrivinghimselfcrazyaboutittonightanyway?Afterthedayjustgonebyitwasnowonderhecouldn’tthinkstraight.

           "-gethimdown?"

           Helookedup,tryingtoblinkthecobwebsaway."Huh?"

           "Isaid,howarewegoingtogethimdown?We’vegottogethimoutofhere,Jack."

           Foramomenthiswitsweresoscatteredthathewasn’tevensurewhatshewastalkingabout.

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