Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           Thedwarfblackboygetsariseoutofhimfromtimetotimebyleaningcloseandasking,"Say,Ruckly,whatyoufigureyourlittlewifeisdoingintowntonight?"Ruckly’sheadcomesup.Memorywhisperssomeplaceinthatjumbledmachinery.Heturnsredandhisveinsclogupatoneend.Thispuffshimupsohecanjustbarelymakealittlewhistlingsoundinhisthroat.Bubblessqueezeoutthecornerofhismouth,he’sworkinghisjawsohardtosaysomething.Whenhefinallydoesgettowherehecansayhisfewwordsit’salow,chokingnoisetomakeyourskincrawl—"Fffffffuckdawife!Fffffffuckdawife!"andpassesoutonthespotfromtheeffort.

           EllisandRucklyaretheyoungestChronics.ColonelMattersonistheoldest,anold,petrifiedcavalrysoldierfromtheFirstWarwhoisgiventoliftingtheskirtsofpassingnurseswithhiscane,orteachingsomekindofhistoryoutofthetextofhislefthandtoanybodythat’lllisten.He’stheoldestontheward,butnottheone’sbeenherelongest—hiswifebroughthiminonlyafewyearsback,whenshegottowhereshewasn’tuptotendinghimanylonger.

           I’mtheonebeenhereonthewardthelongest,sincetheSecondWorldWar.Ibeenhereonthewardlonger’nanybody.Longer’nanyoftheotherpatients.TheBigNursehasbeenherelonger’nme.

           TheChronicsandtheAcutesdon’tgenerallymingle.Eachstaysonhisownsideofthedayroomthewaytheblackboyswantit.Theblackboyssayit’smoreorderlythatwayandleteverybodyknowthat’sthewaythey’dlikeittostay.Theymoveusinafterbreakfastandlookatthegroupingandnod."That’sright,gennulmen,that’stheway.Nowyoukeepitthatway."