I was on my way to say goodbye to Old Spencer aswell, he had the grippe. I forgot to mention that. They kicked me out, and I wasnt supposed to be coming back after Christmas vacation. When I got to Spencers house I rang that doorbell as fast as I could! I was freezing! Mrs Spencer opened the door 'Holden' she said ' Hiw lovely to see you!' I think she might have been just a little glad to see me. We had a little chat, you know the usually how are you and all that bull. She asked me how i'd been, i could tell straight away old Spencer'd told her id been kicked out. Anyway she directed me to Spencers room. They each had their own room and all. Both around 70 years old, and they still got a bang out of things. That sounds mean to say, but I dont mean it mean. I thought about old Spencer quite alot, he was all stooped over and had very terrible posture. In class whenever he dropped a peice of chalk at the blackboard, some guy in the front row always had to get out of his seat to pick it up and hand it back to him. Poor old sod. 
If you ask my opinion I think thats awful! Me and a few of the guys were round there one Sunday for hot chocolate, old Spencer decided he would show us a tatty Navajo blanket that he bought off some Indian in Yellowstone Park once, you could tell he got a big band out of buying it. His door was open, but me being me decided to knock anyway, jus to be polite and all. He was sat in the Navajo blanket! All wrapped up, well it was the middle of winter right? He was reading the Atlantic Monthly, and everything smelt like Vicks Nose Drops. Pretty depressing if you ask me. He had his tatty old bathrobe on, which looked like he was born in it or something. I hate seeing old guys in their pyjamas. With their bumpy old chests poking out. Near enough as soon as I sat down, on he mentioned me leaving. I told him about Dr Thurmer telling me life was a game and all. Spencer agreed, he said life is a game and I should play it accoring to the rules. Game!, Ha my ass. Maybe the hot-shots play it like a game, but the other side, where there arent any hot shots its a different story then. He asked how my parents would take the news. I said they'd be irritated, they'd be more than irritate! As Pencey was the third school i'd been kicked out from. I dont know whether you noticed but I have lousy vocabulary, probly because I act young for my age.I'm borded of people telling me to act my age, especially my father. I don't give a damn! Sometimes i act alot older than I am- I really do- it's not like anyone notices. People never notice. Spencer started nodding, he does that an awful lot. You never knew if he was nodding alot because he was thinking and all, or just because he was a nice old guy who couldnt tell his wotsit from his elbow! We got onto the subjects I carried, and how I was failing four out of five-only passing in english. Spencer told me why he failed me in History-because I knew absolutley nothing and all. He played a dirty trick on me. He asked me to pass him my exam paper from the chiffonier. Boy, you cant imagine how sorry i was getting that I'd stopped by to say good-bye. He started holding the paper as if it was a turd or something. I had to sit and listen while he read the crap essay, if you could call it an essay. He asked me what i would have done in his situation, and you could tell buy his face that he felt lousy about fluking me. So i shot the bull for a while, I told him i was a real moron and all that crap. I told him how i would've done the same thing if I'd been in his place, and how most people didnt appreciate how tought it is being a teacher. You know that kind of bull. The funny thing is, all the time I was sort of thinking about something else while I shot the bull. I was thinking about the lagoon in Central Park, New York-its where I live, about whether it would be frozen over when I got home, and if it was, where did the ducks go. Does some guy in a truck come and take them to the zoo. Or do they just fly?
If you ask my opinion I think thats awful! Me and a few of the guys were round there one Sunday for hot chocolate, old Spencer decided he would show us a tatty Navajo blanket that he bought off some Indian in Yellowstone Park once, you could tell he got a big band out of buying it. His door was open, but me being me decided to knock anyway, jus to be polite and all. He was sat in the Navajo blanket! All wrapped up, well it was the middle of winter right? He was reading the Atlantic Monthly, and everything smelt like Vicks Nose Drops. Pretty depressing if you ask me. He had his tatty old bathrobe on, which looked like he was born in it or something. I hate seeing old guys in their pyjamas. With their bumpy old chests poking out. Near enough as soon as I sat down, on he mentioned me leaving. I told him about Dr Thurmer telling me life was a game and all. Spencer agreed, he said life is a game and I should play it accoring to the rules. Game!, Ha my ass. Maybe the hot-shots play it like a game, but the other side, where there arent any hot shots its a different story then. He asked how my parents would take the news. I said they'd be irritated, they'd be more than irritate! As Pencey was the third school i'd been kicked out from. I dont know whether you noticed but I have lousy vocabulary, probly because I act young for my age.I'm borded of people telling me to act my age, especially my father. I don't give a damn! Sometimes i act alot older than I am- I really do- it's not like anyone notices. People never notice. Spencer started nodding, he does that an awful lot. You never knew if he was nodding alot because he was thinking and all, or just because he was a nice old guy who couldnt tell his wotsit from his elbow! We got onto the subjects I carried, and how I was failing four out of five-only passing in english. Spencer told me why he failed me in History-because I knew absolutley nothing and all. He played a dirty trick on me. He asked me to pass him my exam paper from the chiffonier. Boy, you cant imagine how sorry i was getting that I'd stopped by to say good-bye. He started holding the paper as if it was a turd or something. I had to sit and listen while he read the crap essay, if you could call it an essay. He asked me what i would have done in his situation, and you could tell buy his face that he felt lousy about fluking me. So i shot the bull for a while, I told him i was a real moron and all that crap. I told him how i would've done the same thing if I'd been in his place, and how most people didnt appreciate how tought it is being a teacher. You know that kind of bull. The funny thing is, all the time I was sort of thinking about something else while I shot the bull. I was thinking about the lagoon in Central Park, New York-its where I live, about whether it would be frozen over when I got home, and if it was, where did the ducks go. Does some guy in a truck come and take them to the zoo. Or do they just fly?
1 comment:
Looking great!:-)
Post a Comment