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”