Properties
- end_line
- 378
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-27T17:13:03.336Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 357
- text
- 342 longer, the way we were on opposite sides of the pole, and the way he kept missing the
343 bed whenever he chucked something at it, and his sad old bathrobe with his chest
344 showing, and that grippy smell of Vicks Nose Drops all over the place. "Look, sir. Don't
345 worry about me," I said. "I mean it. I'll be all right. I'm just going through a phase right
346 now. Everybody goes through phases and all, don't they?"
347 "I don't know, boy. I don't know."
348 I hate it when somebody answers that way. "Sure. Sure, they do," I said. "I mean
349 it, sir. Please don't worry about me." I sort of put my hand on his shoulder. "Okay?" I
350 said.
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351 "Wouldn't you like a cup of hot chocolate before you go? Mrs. Spencer would be-
352 -"
353 "I would, I really would, but the thing is, I have to get going. I have to go right to
354 the gym. Thanks, though. Thanks a lot, sir."
355 Then we shook hands. And all that crap. It made me feel sad as hell, though.
356 "I'll drop you a line, sir. Take care of your grippe, now."
357 "Good-by, boy."
358 After I shut the door and started back to the living room, he yelled something at
359 me, but I couldn't exactly hear him. I'm pretty sure he yelled "Good luck!" at me,
360 I hope to hell not. I'd never yell "Good luck!" at anybody. It sounds terrible, when
361 you think about it.
- title
- Chunk 6