Крестный отец

           Shebabbled,"Sonny,justsendacartobringmehome,I’lltellyouthen,it’snothing,Sonny.Don’tyoucome.SendTom,please,Sonny.It’snothing,Ijustwanttocomehome."

           BythistimeHagenhadcomeintotheroom.TheDonwasalreadyunderasedatedsleepinthebedroomaboveandHagenwantedtokeepaneyeonSonnyinallcrises.Thetwointeriorbodyguardswerealsointhekitchen.EverybodywaswatchingSonnyashelistenedonthephone.

           TherewasnoquestionthattheviolenceinSonnyCorleone’snaturerosefromsomedeepmysteriousphysicalwell.Astheywatchedtheycouldactuallyseethebloodrushingtohisheavilycordedneck,couldseetheeyesfilmwithhatred,theseparatefeaturesofhisfacetightening,growingpinched,thenhisfacetookonthegrayishhueofasickmanfightingoffsomesortofdeath,exceptthattheadrenalinepumpingthroughhisbodymadehishandstremble.Buthisvoicewascontrolled,pitchedlow,ashetoldhissister,"Youwaitthere.Youjustwaitthere."Hehungupthephone.

           Hestoodthereforamomentquitestunnedwithhisownrage,thenhesaid,"Thefuckingsonofabitch,thefuckingsonofabitch."Heranoutofthehouse.

           HagenknewthelookonSonny’sface,allreasoningpowerhadlefthim.AtthismomentSonnywascapableofanything.HagenalsoknewthattherideintothecitywouldcoolSonnyoff,makehimmorerational.Butthatrationalitymightmakehimevenmoredangerous,thoughtherationalitywouldenablehimtoprotecthimselfagainsttheconsequencesofhisrage.