Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           Probablycouldofstayedhomewiththeirhurts,butwouldn’tmissthisfornothing.Igrinbackjusttoshowthem.

           TheBigNursetalkstoMcMurphy,softandpatient,abouttheirresponsiblethinghedid,thechildishthing,throwingatantrumlikealittleboy—aren’tyouashamed?Hesaysheguessesnotandtellshertogetonwithit.

           Shetalkstohimabouthowthey,thepatientsdownstairsonourward,ataspecialgroupmeetingyesterdayafternoon,agreedwiththestaffthatitmightbebeneficialthathereceivesomeshocktherapy—unlessherealizeshismistakes.Allhehastodoisadmithewaswrong,toindicate,demonstraterationalcontact,andthetreatmentwouldbecanceledthistime.

           Thatcircleoffaceswaitsandwatches.Thenursesaysit’suptohim.

           "Yeah?"hesays."YougotapaperIcansign?"

           "Well,no,butifyoufeelitnec—"

           "Andwhydon’tyouaddsomeotherthingswhileyou’reatitandgetthemoutoftheway—thingslike,oh,mebeingpartofaplottooverthrowthegovernmentandlikehowIthinklifeonyourwardisthesweetestgoddamnedlifethissideofHawaii—youknow,thatsortofcrap."

           "Idon’tbelievethatwould—"

           "Then,afterIsign,youbringmeablanketandapackageofRedCrosscigarettes.Hooee,thoseChineseCommiescouldhavelearnedafewthingsfromyou,lady."

           "Randle,wearetryingtohelpyou."

           Buthe’sonhisfeet,scratchingathisbelly,walkingonpastherandtheblackboysrearingback,towardthecardtables.