Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           Thenherubshisnose.

           "Youknow—thatoldclockupthereputsmeinmindofthetargetsatthetargetrangeatFortRiley.That’swhereIgotmyfirstmedal,asharpshootermedal.Dead-EyeMcMurphy.WhowantstolaymeaporelittledollarthatIcan’tputthisdabofbuttersquareinthecenterofthefaceofthatclockupthere,oratleastontheface?"

           Hegetsthreebetsandtakesuphisbutterpatandputsitonhisknife,givesitaflip.Itsticksagoodsixinchesorsototheleftoftheclock,andeverybodykidshimaboutituntilhepayshisbets.They’restillridinghimaboutdidhemeanDead-EyeorDead-EyeswhentheleastblackboygetsbackfromhosingVegetablesandeverybodylooksintohisplateandkeepsquiet.Theblackboysensessomethingisintheair,buthecan’tseewhat.AndheprobablyneverwouldofknownexceptoldColonelMattersonisgazingaround,andheseesthebutterstuckuponthewallandthiscauseshimtopointupatitandgointooneofhislessons,explainingtousallinhispatient,rumblingvoice,justlikewhathesaidmadesense.

           "Thebut-ter...istheRe-pub-li-canparty...."

           Theblackboylookswherethecolonelispointing,andtherethatbutteris,easingdownthewalllikeayellowsnail.Heblinksatitbuthedoesn’tsayaword,doesn’tevenbotherlookingaroundtomakecertainwhoflippeditupthere.

           McMurphyiswhisperingandnudgingtheAcutessittingaroundhim,andinaminutetheyallnod,andhelaysthreedollarsonthetableandleansback.