Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           HegetsbetweenthesheetsandtellsmeIbetterhitthesackmyself,thatherecomesoneofthoseblackboystodousethelightsonus.Ilookaround,andtheblackboynamedGeeveriscoming,andIkickoffmyshoesandgetinbedjustashewalksuptotieasheetacrossme.Whenhe’sfinishedwithmehetakesalastlookaroundandgigglesandflipsthedormlightsoff.

           ExceptforthewhitepowderoflightfromtheNurses’Stationoutinthehall,thedormisdark.IcanjustmakeoutMcMurphynexttome,breathingdeepandregular,thecoversoverhimrisingandfalling.Thebreathinggetsslowerandslower,tillIfigurehe’sbeenasleepforawhile.ThenIhearasoft,throatysoundfromhisbed,likethechuckleofahorse.He’sstillawakeandhe’slaughingtohimselfaboutsomething.

           Hestopslaughingandwhispers,"Why,yousuredidgiveajumpwhenItoldyouthatcoonwascoming,Chief.Ithoughtsomebodytoldmeyouwasdeef."