Then the picture started. It was another phoney thing about love and all things like that. Boring as hell. I would tell you about it, but I might puke. The lady sat next to me cried al the way through the goddam lousy picture. The phonier it got…the more she cried. She had a little kid with her who was bored as hell and he wanted to go to the bathroom, but she just ignored him. It kills me when you see someone cry there eyes out over something as phoney as that and 9 times out of 10 their heartless bastards.
After it had finished I started to walk over to the Wicker Bar, where I was meeting Carl Luce. I started to think about the war. I couldn’t go to war, id rather be shot or sit on top of an atom bomb. Im sort of glad they’ve got the atomic bomb invented. If there’s ever another war, im going to sit right the hell on top of it. Ill volunteer for it, I swear I will.
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