Над пропастью во ржи

           "You’restillbleeding,forChrissake.Youbetterputsomethingonit." 

           "It’llstop.Listen.YawannaplayalittleCanastaordon’tcha?" 

           "Canasta,forChrissake.Doyouknowwhattimeitis,byanychance?" 

           "Itisn’tlate.It’sonlyaroundeleven,eleven-thirty." 

           "Onlyaround!"Ackleysaid."Listen.IgottagetupandgotoMassinthemorning,forChrissake.Youguysstartholleringandfightinginthemiddleofthegoddam—Whatthehellwasthefightabout,anyhow?" 

           "It’salongstory.Idon’twannaboreya,Ackley.I’mthinkingofyourwelfare,"Itoldhim.Ineverdiscussedmypersonallifewithhim. Inthefirstplace,hewasevenmorestupidthanStradlater.StradlaterwasagoddamgeniusnexttoAckley. "Hey,"Isaid,"isitokayifIsleepinEly’sbedtonight?Hewon’tbebacktilltomorrownight,willhe?" Iknewdamnwellhewouldn’t.Elywenthomedamnneareveryweekend. 

           "Idon’tknowwhenthehellhe’scomingback,"Ackleysaid. 

           Boy,didthatannoyme. "Whatthehelldoyoumeanyoudon’tknowwhenhe’scomingback?HenevercomesbacktillSundaynight,doeshe?" 

           "No,butforChrissake,Ican’tjusttellsomebodytheycansleepinhisgoddambediftheywantto." 

           Thatkilledme.IreachedupfromwhereIwassittingonthefloorandpattedhimonthegoddamshoulder. "You’reaprince,Ackleykid,"Isaid."Youknowthat?" 

           "No,Imeanit—Ican’tjusttellsomebodytheycansleepin—"