Над пропастью во ржи

           IkepttalkingaboutoldPencey.Isortoffeltlikeit.

           "Eventhecoupleofniceteachersonthefaculty,theywerephonies,too,"Isaid."Therewasthisoneoldguy,Mr.Spencer.Hiswifewasalwaysgivingyouhotchocolateandallthatstuff,andtheywerereallyprettynice.Butyoushould’veseenhimwhentheheadmaster,oldThurmer,cameinthehistoryclassandsatdowninthebackoftheroom.Hewasalwayscominginandsittingdowninthebackoftheroomforaboutahalfanhour.Hewassupposedtobeincognitoorsomething.Afterawhile,he’dbesittingbackthereandthenhe’dstartinterruptingwhatoldSpencerwassayingtocrackalotofcornyjokes.OldSpencer’dpracticallykillhimselfchucklingandsmilingandall,likeasifThurmerwasagoddamprinceorsomething."

           "Don’tswearsomuch."

           "Itwould’vemadeyoupuke,Iswearitwould,"Isaid."Then,onVeterans’Day.Theyhavethisday,Veterans’Day,thatallthejerksthatgraduatedfromPenceyaround1776comebackandwalkallovertheplace,withtheirwivesandchildrenandeverybody.Youshould’veseenthisoneoldguythatwasaboutfifty.Whathedidwas,hecameinourroomandknockedonthedoorandaskedusifwe’dmindifheusedthebathroom.Thebathroomwasattheendofthecorridor—Idon’tknowwhythehellheaskedus.Youknowwhathesaid?Hesaidhewantedtoseeifhisinitialswerestillinoneofthecandoors.Whathedid,hecarvedhisgoddamstupidsadoldinitialsinoneofthecandoorsaboutninetyyearsago,andhewantedtoseeiftheywerestillthere.SomyroommateandIwalkedhimdowntothebathroomandall,andwehadtostandtherewhilehelookedforhisinitialsinallthecandoors.