Над пропастью во ржи

           Ihatethemovieslikepoison,butIgetabangimitatingthem. OldStradlaterwatchedmeinthemirrorwhilehewasshaving. AllIneed’sanaudience. I’manexhibitionist. "I’mthegoddarnGovernor’sson,"Isaid. Iwasknockingmyselfout. Tap-dancingallovertheplace. "Hedoesn’twantmetobeatapdancer. HewantsmetogotoOxford. Butit’sinmygoddamblood,tap-dancing. "OldStradlaterlaughed. Hedidn’thavetoobadasenseofhumor. "It’stheopeningnightoftheZiegfeldFollies. "Iwasgettingoutofbreath. Ihavehardlyanywindatall. "Theleadingmancan’tgoon. He’sdrunkasabastard. Sowhodotheygettotakehisplace? Me,that’swho. ThelittleolegoddamGovernor’sson." 

           "Where’djagetthathat? "Stradlatersaid. Hemeantmyhuntinghat.He’dneverseenitbefore. 

           Iwasoutofbreathanyway,soIquithorsingaround. Itookoffmyhatandlookedatitforabouttheninetiethtime. "IgotitinNewYorkthismorning. Forabuck. Yalikeit?" 

           Stradlaternodded. "Sharp,"hesaid. Hewasonlyflatteringme,though,becauserightawayhesaid,"Listen. Areyagonnawritethatcompositionforme? Ihavetoknow." 

           "IfIgetthetime,Iwill.IfIdon’t,Iwon’t,"Isaid. Iwentoverandsatdownatthewashbowlnexttohimagain. "Who’syourdate?"Iaskedhim."Fitzgerald?" 

           "Hell,no!Itoldya. I’mthroughwiththatpig." 

           "Yeah? Givehertome,boy. Nokidding. She’smytype."