Properties
- end_line
- 3795
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T03:41:20.744Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 3742
- text
- stupid business with the bullet in my guts again. I was the only guy at the bar with a
bullet in their guts. I kept putting my hand under my jacket, on my stomach and all, to
keep the blood from dripping all over the place. I didn't want anybody to know I was
even wounded. I was concealing the fact that I was a wounded sonuvabitch. Finally what
I felt like, I felt like giving old Jane a buzz and see if she was home yet. So I paid my
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check and all. Then I left the bar and went out where the telephones were. I kept keeping
my hand under my jacket to keep the blood from dripping. Boy, was I drunk.
But when I got inside this phone booth, I wasn't much in the mood any more to
give old Jane a buzz. I was too drunk, I guess. So what I did, I gave old Sally Hayes a
buzz.
I had to dial about twenty numbers before I got the right one. Boy, was I blind.
"Hello," I said when somebody answered the goddam phone. I sort of yelled it, I
was so drunk.
"Who is this?" this very cold lady's voice said.
"This is me. Holden Caulfield. Lemme speaka Sally, please."
"Sally's asleep. This is Sally's grandmother. Why are you calling at this hour,
Holden? Do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah. Wanna talka Sally. Very important. Put her on."
"Sally's asleep, young man. Call her tomorrow. Good night."
"Wake 'er up! Wake 'er up, hey. Attaboy."
Then there was a different voice. "Holden, this is me." It was old Sally. "What's
the big idea?"
"Sally? That you?"
"Yes--stop screaming. Are you drunk?"
"Yeah. Listen. Listen, hey. I'll come over Christmas Eve. Okay? Trimma goddarn
tree for ya. Okay? Okay, hey, Sally?"
"Yes. You're drunk. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?"
"Sally? I'll come over and trimma tree for ya, okay? Okay, hey?"
"Yes. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?"
"Nobody. Me, myself and I." Boy was I drunk! I was even still holding onto my
guts. "They got me. Rocky's mob got me. You know that? Sally, you know that?"
"I can't hear you. Go to bed now. I have to go. Call me tomorrow."
"Hey, Sally! You want me trimma tree for ya? Ya want me to? Huh?"
"Yes. Good night. Go home and go to bed."
She hung up on me.
"G'night. G'night, Sally baby. Sally sweetheart darling," I said. Can you imagine
how drunk I was? I hung up too, then. I figured she probably just came home from a date.
I pictured her out with the Lunts and all somewhere, and that Andover jerk. All of them
swimming around in a goddam pot of tea and saying sophisticated stuff to each other and
being charming and phony. I wished to God I hadn't even phoned her. When I'm drunk,
I'm a madman.
I stayed in the damn phone booth for quite a while. I kept holding onto the phone,
sort of, so I wouldn't pass out. I wasn't feeling too marvelous, to tell you the truth.
Finally, though, I came out and went in the men's room, staggering around like a moron,
and filled one of the washbowls with cold water. Then I dunked my head in it, right up to
the ears. I didn't even bother to dry it or anything. I just let the sonuvabitch drip. Then I
walked over to this radiator by the window and sat down on it. It was nice and warm. It
felt good because I was shivering like a bastard. It's a funny thing, I always shiver like
hell when I'm drunk.
I didn't have anything else to do, so I kept sitting on the radiator and counting
these little white squares on the floor. I was getting soaked. About a gallon of water was
- title
- Chunk 6