Крестный отец

           ThediagnosisofthestaffthroatmanwasperfectlysoundasfarasJulescouldseeaftertheXraysandswabanalysis.Halfwaythrough,JohnnyFontane,hismouthsoakedwithiodine,retchingovertherollofgauzestuckinhismouth,triedtogait.NinoValentigrabbedhimbytheshouldersandslammedhimbackintoachair.WhenitwasalloverJulesgrinnedatFontaneandsaid,"Warts."

           Fontanedidn’tgraspit.Julessaidagain."Justsomewarts.We’llslicethemrightofflikeskinoffbaloney.Inafewmonthsyou’llbeOK."

           ValentiletoutayellbutFontanewasstillfrowning."Howaboutsingingafterward,howwillitaffectmysinging?"

           Julesshrugged."Onthatthere’snoguarantee.Butsinceyoucan’tsingnowwhat’sthedifference?"

           Fontanelookedathimwithdistaste."Kid,youdon’tknowwhatthehellyou’retalkingabout.Youactlikeyou’regivingmegoodnewswhenwhatyou’retellingmeismaybeIwon’tsinganymore.Isthatright,maybeIwon’tsinganymore?"

           FinallyJuleswasdisgusted.He’doperatedasarealdoctorandithadbeenapleasure.Hehaddonethisbastardarealfavorandhewasactingasifhe’dbeendonedirt.Julessaidcoldly,"Listen,Mr.Fontane,I’madoctorofmedicineandyoucancallmeDoctor,notkid.AndIdidgiveyouverygoodnews.WhenIbroughtyoudownhereIwascertainthatyouhadamalignantgrowthinyourlarynxwhichwouldentailcuttingoutyourwholevoicebox.Orwhichcouldkillyou.IwasworriedthatImighthavetotellyouthatyouwereadeadman.