Chapter 7

           Atinybitoflightcamethroughtheshowercurtainsandallfromourroom,andIcouldseehimlyinginbed.Iknewdamnwellhewaswideawake. "Ackley?"Isaid."Y’awake?" 

           "Yeah." 

           Itwasprettydark,andIsteppedonsomebody’sshoeontheflooranddamnnearfellonmyhead.Ackleysortofsatupinbedandleanedonhisarm.Hehadalotofwhitestuffonhisface,forhispimples.Helookedsortofspookyinthedark. "Whatthehellyadoing,anyway?"Isaid. 

           "WuddayameanwhatthehellamIdoing?Iwastrynasleepbeforeyouguysstartedmakingallthatnoise.Whatthehellwasthefightabout,anyhow?" 

           "Where’sthelight?"Icouldn’tfindthelight.Iwasslidingmyhandalloverthewall. 

           "Wuddayawantthelightfor?...Rightnexttoyourhand." 

           IfinallyfoundtheswitchandturnedIton.OldAckleyputhishandupsothelightwouldn’thurthiseyes. 

           "Jesus!"hesaid."Whatthehellhappenedtoyou?"Hemeantallthebloodandall. 

           "IhadalittlegoddamtiffwithStradlater,"Isaid.ThenIsatdownonthefloor.Theyneverhadanychairsintheirroom.Idon’tknowwhatthehelltheydidwiththeirchairs. "Listen,"Isaid,"doyoufeellikeplayingalittleCanasta?" HewasaCanastafiend.