Properties
- end_line
- 2744
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-27T17:16:18.880Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 2700
- text
- 2585 Vitamin Caulfield.
2586 While I was eating my eggs, these two nuns with suitcases and all--I guessed they
2587 were moving to another convent or something and were waiting for a train--came in and
2588 sat down next to me at the counter. They didn't seem to know what the hell to do with
2589 their suitcases, so I gave them a hand. They were these very inexpensive-looking
2590 suitcases--the ones that aren't genuine leather or anything. It isn't important, I know, but I
2591 hate it when somebody has cheap suitcases. It sounds terrible to say it, but I can even get
2592 to hate somebody, just looking at them, if they have cheap suitcases with them.
2593 Something happened once. For a while when I was at Elkton Hills, I roomed with this
2594 boy, Dick Slagle, that had these very inexpensive suitcases. He used to keep them under
2595 the bed, instead of on the rack, so that nobody'd see them standing next to mine. It
2596 depressed holy hell out of me, and I kept wanting to throw mine out or something, or
<!-- [Page 59](arke:01KFYTAC7KGAP5DC8FTEVAYTBX) -->
2597 even trade with him. Mine came from Mark Cross, and they were genuine cowhide and
2598 all that crap, and I guess they cost quite a pretty penny. But it was a funny thing. Here's
2599 what happened. What I did, I finally put my suitcases under my bed, instead of on the
2600 rack, so that old Slagle wouldn't get a goddam inferiority complex about it. But here's
2601 what he did. The day after I put mine under my bed, he took them out and put them back
2602 on the rack. The reason he did it, it took me a while to find out, was because he wanted
2603 people to think my bags were his. He really did. He was a very funny guy, that way. He
2604 was always saying snotty things about them, my suitcases, for instance. He kept saying
2605 they were too new and bourgeois. That was his favorite goddam word. He read it
2606 somewhere or heard it somewhere. Everything I had was bourgeois as hell. Even my
2607 fountain pen was bourgeois. He borrowed it off me all the time, but it was bourgeois
2608 anyway. We only roomed together about two months. Then we both asked to be moved.
2609 And the funny thing was, I sort of missed him after we moved, because he had a helluva
2610 good sense of humor and we had a lot of fun sometimes. I wouldn't be surprised if he
2611 missed me, too. At first he only used to be kidding when he called my stuff bourgeois,
2612 and I didn't give a damn--it was sort of funny, in fact. Then, after a while, you could tell
2613 he wasn't kidding any more. The thing is, it's really hard to be roommates with people if
2614 your suitcases are much better than theirs--if yours are really good ones and theirs aren't.
2615 You think if they're intelligent and all, the other person, and have a good sense of humor,
2616 that they don't give a damn whose suitcases are better, but they do. They really do. It's
2617 one of the reasons why I roomed with a stupid bastard like Stradlater. At least his
2618 suitcases were as good as mine.
2619 Anyway, these two nuns were sitting next to me, and we sort of struck up a
2620 conversation. The one right next to me had one of those straw baskets that you see nuns
2621 and Salvation Army babes collecting dough with around Christmas time. You see them
2622 standing on corners, especially on Fifth Avenue, in front of the big department stores and
2623 all. Anyway, the one next to me dropped hers on the floor and I reached down and picked
2624 it up for her. I asked her if she was out collecting money for charity and all. She said no.
2625 She said she couldn't get it in her suitcase when she was packing it and she was just
2626 carrying it. She had a pretty nice smile when she looked at you. She had a big nose, and
2627 she had on those glasses with sort of iron rims that aren't too attractive, but she had a
- title
- Chunk 3