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- He shoved my book back with his hand so that he could see the name of it. "Any
good?" he said.
"This sentence I'm reading is terrific." I can be quite sarcastic when I'm in the
mood. He didn't get It, though. He started walking around the room again, picking up all
my personal stuff, and Stradlater's. Finally, I put my book down on the floor. You
couldn't read anything with a guy like Ackley around. It was impossible.
I slid way the hell down in my chair and watched old Ackley making himself at
home. I was feeling sort of tired from the trip to New York and all, and I started yawning.
Then I started horsing around a little bit. Sometimes I horse around quite a lot, just to
keep from getting bored. What I did was, I pulled the old peak of my hunting hat around
to the front, then pulled it way down over my eyes. That way, I couldn't see a goddam
thing. "I think I'm going blind," I said in this very hoarse voice. "Mother darling,
everything's getting so dark in here."
"You're nuts. I swear to God," Ackley said.
"Mother darling, give me your hand, Why won't you give me your hand?"
"For Chrissake, grow up."
I started groping around in front of me, like a blind guy, but without getting up or
anything. I kept saying, "Mother darling, why won't you give me your hand?" I was only
horsing around, naturally. That stuff gives me a bang sometimes. Besides, I know it
annoyed hell out of old Ackley. He always brought out the old sadist in me. I was pretty
sadistic with him quite often. Finally, I quit, though. I pulled the peak around to the back
again, and relaxed.
"Who belongsa this?" Ackley said. He was holding my roommate's knee
supporter up to show me. That guy Ackley'd pick up anything. He'd even pick up your
jock strap or something. I told him it was Stradlater's. So he chucked it on Stradlater's
bed. He got it off Stradlater's chiffonier, so he chucked it on the bed.
He came over and sat down on the arm of Stradlater's chair. He never sat down in
a chair. Just always on the arm. "Where the hellja get that hat?" he said.
"New York."
"How much?"
"A buck."
"You got robbed." He started cleaning his goddam fingernails with the end of a
match. He was always cleaning his fingernails. It was funny, in a way. His teeth were
always mossy-looking, and his ears were always dirty as hell, but he was always cleaning
his fingernails. I guess he thought that made him a very neat guy. He took another look at
my hat while he was cleaning them. "Up home we wear a hat like that to shoot deer in,
for Chrissake," he said. "That's a deer shooting hat."
"Like hell it is." I took it off and looked at it. I sort of closed one eye, like I was
taking aim at it. "This is a people shooting hat," I said. "I shoot people in this hat."
"Your folks know you got kicked out yet?"
"Nope."
"Where the hell's Stradlater at, anyway?"
"Down at the game. He's got a date." I yawned. I was yawning all over the place.
For one thing, the room was too damn hot. It made you sleepy. At Pencey, you either
froze to death or died of the heat.
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