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The Bedroom

           

           Hedroppedthewasps’nestandwaspsboiledoutofitinafuriousbrownandyellowwave.Hislungswereonfire.Hiswaveringsightfellonthetimerandthesenseoftriumphreturned,alongwithacrestingwaveofrighteouswrath.Insteadofconnectingthetimertodynamite,thecordrantothegoldknobofastoutblackcane,liketheonehisfatherhadcarriedaftertheaccidentwiththemilktruck.

           Hegraspeditandthecordparted.Thecanefeltheavyandrightinhishands.Heswungitbackoverhisshoulder.Onthewayupitglancedagainstthewirefromwhichthelightbulbdependedandthelightbegantoswingbackandforth,makingtheroom’shoodedshadowsrockmonstrouslyagainstthefloorandwalls.Onthewaydownthecanestrucksomethingmuchharder.Georgescreamed.ThegriponJack’sthroatloosened.

           HetorefreeofGeorge’sgripandwhirled.Georgewasonhisknees,hisheaddrooping,hishandslacedtogetherontopofit.Bloodwelledthroughhisfingers.

           "Please,"Georgewhisperedhumbly."Givemeabreak,Mr.Torrance,"

           "Nowyou’lltakeyourmedicine,"Jackgrunted."NowbyGod,won’tyou.Youngpup.Youngworthlesscur.NowbyGod,rightnow.Everydrop.Everysingledamndrop!"

           Asthelightswayedabovehimandtheshadowsdancedandflapped,hebegantoswingthecane,bringingitdownagainandagain,hisarmrisingandfallinglikeamachine.

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