6. Stradlater, You're A Dirty Sonnovabit*h Of A Moron !

I couldn't remember what I was doing when I heard Stradlater come through the door, I propably couldn't here him because I was so god damn worried!
If you knew Sradlater, you would’ve been very worried too. I’d double dated with him before and I know what I am talking about. He was unscrupulous, he really was.

After he chatted to me for a bit, he asked me if I had done his god damn composition. He read it whilst stroking his chest and belly. He was always stroking himself. He was mad about himself. He started moaning because I write it about a baseball mitt. He said “You don’t do one god damn thing the way you’re supposed to.” The sonnovabitch annoyed me so much that I ripped it up in his face. I lay down on my bed and smoked a cigarette, even though you’re not meant to smoke indoors.

I asked if he had a good night and all that bull. I asked if he gave her my regards. He said yes, but to hell he did. Phoney! All he did all night was sit in Ed Banky’s car. That’s it! Ed Banky is the basketball coach you see. He let all the athletic sonnovabitches use his car, even though they weren’t meant too.

Anyway, he told me I don’t do one thing the way I am supposed to because I didn't do his god damn composition how he wanted it. I lost it with him so I went over to him and ripped it all up. I went and sat back down on my bed and asked him about Jane. I asked him where did he go with her and he didn’t answer, instead he came over to me being all playful giving me these socks on my shoulder. He then said that all they did was sit in Ed Bankey’s car.
I got so nervous when he said that, I asked him if he gave her the time in Ed’s car. He told me it was a professional secret. I got up went over and socked him in the mouth. He threw me on the floor and put his knees on me. I kept calling him a moron and saying childish things. He let me up and I must of called him a moron too many because he gave me this almighty smack in the mouth. Good punch too, it really was.

I wasn’t knocked out but I just lay on the floor for a while. Stradlater left and I got up and went into Ackley’s room. I hardly ever went in to Ackley’s room it had this funny smell in it.

5. Allie's Baseball Mitt!

On Sunday, we always had steak for dinner. It was the weirdest steak you ever saw, it really was. We only had it because when our mothers came the day after, they usually ask, “What did you have last night for dinner?”God dam phoneys! It was always dried up so much you could barely cut it.

After dinner, me and some of the other lads went out and had a huge snowball fight in the carpark. (It was snowing you see). It really was fun. It really was. After that though, there was nothing to do, I mean everyone else had gone out somewhere or another. So me and another guy, Mal Brossard decided to go into town to see a movie. I hate movies, they are crumby. They really are. I asked if Ackley could come with us, I felt pretty mean on him being on his own all the time. Mal doesn’t see eye to eye with Ackley, but still he said O.K. to be nice and all.

When we got into town, Mal and Ackeley had already seen the god dam film. We decided to stay out for a while, grabbing a bit to eat and playing pinball.

It was good in town, but it started to get boring so we decided to go back to Pencey, but it was still early. Once we were back, Mal went off, leaving me with Ackley. The goddamn phoney sat on my bed squeezing his pimples and lying all over my god dam covers and pillows. He then began telling me about some girl he was supposed to have had sex with the previous summer. I mean he was shooting the bull and all. He had told me the same story about 20 billion times and all, and each time it was completely different! I hate liars, I really do!

Eventually, I got him to leave and started with Stradlater's composition he asked me to do whilst he went out, wearing my god dam jacket! He had told me to do something descriptive. Simple descriptions of a room or a house or something like that, but I couldn't think of anything to write about like that. I really couldn’t. I spotted my brothers (Allie) baseball mitt. I decided to write about it. There was loads to write about you see. You know, it wasn't an ordinary baseball mitt; Allie had written all over his mitt in green ink. He did it so he had something to read whilst nobody was batting!

Allie died 3 years ago of leukemia, he was 2 years younger than me but he was more intelligent than me. Boy he was clever! He was always so happy and had this amazing red hair that made him stick out like a sore thumb. He was such a nice kid. I remeber the night Allie died. I slept in the garage that night, just thinking about him. I broke all the windows with my bare hands. I really did. I just couldn’t live without him.
Anyway, once I finished Stradlater's composition, which only took about 30 minutes, I just stopped and looked out of my window, just staring,just silently staring, listening to Ackley snore his head off in his room.

4. JEAN? NO JANE GALLAGHER (Moron)

In walked Stradlater, the god damn sonnuvabitch had a date tonight, so he had to make himself look hot and all that crap. Stradlater's the kind of guy that you see in the school year book and think “who is he?” He spends all his time trying to make himself look gorgeous and all infront of the mirror. He always did that. Stand infront of the mirror that is. He is as bad as a girl. Makes me sick as hell. Crumby little sonnuvabitch.

But anyway, I had nothing else to do, so I went with Stradlater to the can while he had a shave. He had used the same shaver for about a billion years. He maybe good looking and all, but if you saw his shaver, boy you would have a shock! He told me about him going out with this chick. Then told me he had a goddam composition to write for tomorrow and he wouldn’t have time to do it, so he asked if I would do it. He told me to make it descriptive as hell, but not to descriptive though. He knew I was good at English. I said I might as well, if I had time that is. I began to get a bit bored though, so I decided I would start messing around and all, you know, a bit of dancing you would probably see at the opening night of Ziegfield Follies or some other crap. Stradlater was still pruning himself but he laughed and complimented me, only because he wanted me to write that god damn composition for him. God damn phoney! I asked who his date was for this evening but the crumby moron couldn't even remember her name. Whoever it was, he must not have liked her that much. Finally he remembered her name, Jean Gallagher.

I knew her, but the funny thing was that she was called JANE Gallagher! She used to live next door to me you see; she had this massive Doberman dog and all. Scary as hell. Damn I would have loved to catch up with her. We used to play checkers and all, she would never move her kings. She used to leave them all lined up across the back, all because she liked the way they looked. Daft I know. She used to dance as well, rain or shine she was out doing her dancing, although she was pretty worried that it would make her legs all thick and all. Stradlater didn't seem too interested though about Jane, he cared more about his god damn self. He started parting his hair and looking at himself even more. On his way out, he reminded me about his god damn composition and I told him to give Jane my regards, then he went. I knew he wouldn’t give Jane my compliments anyway, he didn’t care about that crap.

3. Ossenburger Memorial Wing

I'm the most terrific liar. It's awful. Where I lived at Pencey, I lived in the Ossenburger Memorial Wing of the new dorms. It was only for juniors and seniors. I was a junior you see. My roommate, Stradlater was a senior though. Anyway my dorm was named after some guy, Ossenburger. You should’ve seen him, old Ossenburger that is; he owns some undertaking business, weird I know, where you can get your family members buried for five crumby bucks. He made a load of dough. Anyway, we had some ceremony when he did this speech which lasted for about 5 goddamn billion hours, it really did, and then they named a dorm after him! He did nothing and had a dorm after him. He really did! He's one crumby little phoney. So anyway, that’s where I live.

When I got back I started reading my book 'Out of Africa' because the library gave me the goddamn wrong book. Daft I know. I thought it would stink but it turned out to be pretty good, it really did. But my favourite author is D.B., my brother. You know he lives in Hollywood now. Anyway, I put on my new Red Hunting hat and sat down and started reading my book 'Out of Africa'. I'd read it already you know, but I wanted to read certain parts over again. I'd only read about three pages when I heard someone coming through the shower curtains. I knew it was Ackley; he's always goddamn barging in on me.

He's one hell of a goddamn sonnuvabitch. He was always picking up your stuff and putting it back in the wrong place! Nosy as hell. He really was. Then he started asking about fencing. He didn't even like fencing, he just wanted me too look up from my book. What a phoney. He came over and stood right in my light, I'd been reading the same sentence for like 2 million years now so I decided to look up anyway. He was exactly the kind of guy that would do that. Anyway me and him had a conversation before Stradlater burst in and asked me to borrow my hound's tooth jacket. My jacket! I’d hardly even worn it and all. He convinced me he wouldn't stretch it so I decided to lend it too him. He went out to the can with no top on and his toilet kit under his arm. He always did that. Posing sonnuvabitch! He loved doing that because he thought he was a big, strong guy. I will admit it and all, he had one hell of a body!

2. Old Spencer !

What were they both still living for? They were both around seventy and each had their own rooms and all. His door was open, but I still sort of knocked on, just to be polite and all. He was all wrapped up in his navajo blanket which he had bought off an Indian in Yellowstone park. His bumpy little chest was poking out of his dressing gown. Eeeeer, it wasn't attractive. "Who's that?" He yelled. "Caulfield? Come in, boy." He was always yelling. It got on your nerves sometimes. I started to regret ever coming as soon as I walked in. He was reading the Atlantic Monthly and I wasn't too crazy about sick people anyway. Oh, I forgot to say he has the grippe, and his room stunk like nose spray.

After a bit he started asking about how my parents would take the news about me being kicked out of Pencey. "Well... they'll be pretty irritated about it. They really will. This is about the fourth school I've gone to." I shook my head. I shake my head quite alot actually.Old Spencer started nodding, which he also does quite a lot. Actually, he is forever nodding. He then started picking his nose. I guess he thought it was ok because I was the only person in the room. I mean, I didn't care; it's just pretty disgusting to watch somebody picking their nose. It really irritates me. Why couldn’t he do it on his own or something?


All of a sudden I just wanted to get the hell out of the room. Boy, i could feel some big lecture coming on. I hate him carrying on with himself. He began asking me how many goddamn subjects I'd taken this term and how many I'd been failing in. He said he flunked me in History because I knew absolutely nothing - which was true I suppose. He teaches History you see. After he had finished going on with his goddamn self, he told me to go and get my exam paper. It was a very dirty trick, very dirty, but still I went over and brought it over to him. He was old and had a bad back you see. I went and sat back down on the bed. Damn it was hard, like concrete even. I knew I had hardly write anything. Boy, you can't imagine how sorry I was that I'd stopped by to say goodbye to him.

He started holding my exam paper like it was a turd or something. Then he started reading the goddamn thing out. It really was a dirty trick. After he'd finished he looked at me like he'd just beaten the hell out of me at ping-pong or something. I don't think I'll ever forgive him for reading that piece of crap out to me. I really won't. It was about Egypt, but I hated it. I write about four lines and then I actually told Spencer on the paper that it was all I knew.
After his dirty little trick, he started asking me whether I blamed him for failing me. I didn’t want to listen to this bull. I started thinking about the lagoon in Central Park. I was wondering if it would be frozen over when I got home, and if it was, where did the ducks go in winter? Did they fly away, or did a man in a truck come and take them away until it warmed up.


After another goddamn lecture, I told him that I best be going because I had quite a bit of equipment at the gym I needed to pick up before I went home. I didn’t even have any equipment at the gym. I just didn’t want to stay here any more. He started nodding at me again, with a very serious look on his face. All of a sudden I felt sorry for the goddamn guy, but there was no way I could hang around there any longer. I told him not to worry about me and that I'd be alright.



After I shut the door, he shouted “Good Luck” to me. I wish to hell that's not what he shouted. I'd never say that to anyone. Boy, it sounds terrible. I hate “Good Luck”