Properties
- end_line
- 956
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-27T17:14:33.290Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 913
- text
- 874 Brossard and Ackley both had seen the picture that was playing, so all we did, we
875 just had a couple of hamburgers and played the pinball machine for a little while, then
876 took the bus back to Pencey. I didn't care about not seeing the movie, anyway. It was
877 supposed to be a comedy, with Cary Grant in it, and all that crap. Besides, I'd been to the
878 movies with Brossard and Ackley before. They both laughed like hyenas at stuff that
879 wasn't even funny. I didn't even enjoy sitting next to them in the movies.
880 It was only about a quarter to nine when we got back to the dorm. Old Brossard
881 was a bridge fiend, and he started looking around the dorm for a game. Old Ackley
882 parked himself in my room, just for a change. Only, instead of sitting on the arm of
883 Stradlater's chair, he laid down on my bed, with his face right on my pillow and all. He
884 started talking in this very monotonous voice, and picking at all his pimples. I dropped
885 about a thousand hints, but I couldn't get rid of him. All he did was keep talking in this
886 very monotonous voice about some babe he was supposed to have had sexual intercourse
887 with the summer before. He'd already told me about it about a hundred times. Every time
888 he told it, it was different. One minute he'd be giving it to her in his cousin's Buick, the
889 next minute he'd be giving it to her under some boardwalk. It was all a lot of crap,
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890 naturally. He was a virgin if ever I saw one. I doubt if he ever even gave anybody a feel.
891 Anyway, finally I had to come right out and tell him that I had to write a composition for
892 Stradlater, and that he had to clear the hell out, so I could concentrate. He finally did, but
893 he took his time about it, as usual. After he left, I put on my pajamas and bathrobe and
894 my old hunting hat, and started writing the composition.
895 The thing was, I couldn't think of a room or a house or anything to describe the
896 way Stradlater said he had to have. I'm not too crazy about describing rooms and houses
897 anyway. So what I did, I wrote about my brother Allie's baseball mitt. It was a very
898 descriptive subject. It really was. My brother Allie had this left-handed fielder's mitt. He
899 was left-handed. The thing that was descriptive about it, though, was that he had poems
900 written all over the fingers and the pocket and everywhere. In green ink. He wrote them
901 on it so that he'd have something to read when he was in the field and nobody was up at
902 bat. He's dead now. He got leukemia and died when we were up in Maine, on July 18,
903 1946. You'd have liked him. He was two years younger than I was, but he was about fifty
904 times as intelligent. He was terrifically intelligent. His teachers were always writing
905 letters to my mother, telling her what a pleasure it was having a boy like Allie in their
906 class. And they weren't just shooting the crap. They really meant it. But it wasn't just that
907 he was the most intelligent member in the family. He was also the nicest, in lots of ways.
908 He never got mad at anybody. People with red hair are supposed to get mad very easily,
909 but Allie never did, and he had very red hair. I'll tell you what kind of red hair he had. I
910 started playing golf when I was only ten years old. I remember once, the summer I was
911 around twelve, teeing off and all, and having a hunch that if I turned around all of a
912 sudden, I'd see Allie. So I did, and sure enough, he was sitting on his bike outside the
913 fence--there was this fence that went all around the course--and he was sitting there,
914 about a hundred and fifty yards behind me, watching me tee off. That's the kind of red
915 hair he had. God, he was a nice kid, though. He used to laugh so hard at something he
- title
- Chunk 2