Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           McMurphysatonastool,grimacingsomethingawfulwhilehegothiscutstended,winkingatScanlonandHardingoverthenurse’shead.Theexpressiononherfacewascalmandblankasenamel,butthestrainwasbeginningtoshowinotherways.Bythewayshejerkedtheadhesivetightasshecould,showingherremotepatiencewasn’twhatitusedtobe.

           Wegottogotothegymandwatchourbasketballteam—Harding,BillyBibbit,Scanlon,Fredrickson,Martini,andMcMurphywheneverhishandwouldstopbleedinglongenoughforhimtogetinthegame—playateamofaides.Ourtwobigblackboysplayedfortheaides.Theywerethebestplayersonthecourt,runningupanddownthefloortogetherlikeapairofshadowsinredtrunks,scoringbasketafterbasketwithmechanicalaccuracy.Ourteamwastooshortandtooslow,andMartinikeptthrowingpassestomenthatnobodybuthimcouldsee,andtheaidesbeatusbytwentypoints.Butsomethinghappenedthatletmostofuscomeawayfeelingthere’dbeenakindofvictory,anyhow:inonescramblefortheballourbigblackboynamedWashingtongotcrackedwithsomebody’selbow,andhisteamhadtoholdhimbackashestoodstrainingtowhereMcMurphywassittingontheball—notpayingtheleastbitofheedtothethrashingblackboywithredpouringoutofhisbignoseanddownhischestlikepaintsplashedonablackboardandholleringtotheguysholdinghim,"Hebeggin’forit!Thesonabitchjus’beggin’forit!"

           McMurphycomposedmorenotesforthenursetofindinthelatrinewithhermirror.