“Catch-22” By Joseph - Khamkoo

“Catch-22” By Joseph Heller 35
that together?’
‘No.’ Milo gave up. ‘Then lend me one package of pitted dates,’ he requested. ‘I’ll give
it back to you. I swear I will, and there’ll be a little something extra for you.’ Milo proved
good as his word and handed Yossarian a quarter of McWatt’s yellow bedsheet when
he returned with the unopened package of dates and with the grinning thief with the
sweet tooth who had stolen the bedsheet from McWatt’s tent. The piece of bedsheet
now belonged to Yossarian. He had earned it while napping, although he did not
understand how. Neither did McWatt.
‘What’s this?’ cried McWatt, staring in mystification at the ripped half of his bedsheet.
‘It’s half of the bedsheet that was stolen from your tent this morning,’ Milo explained.
‘I’ll bet you didn’t even know it was stolen.’
‘Why should anyone want to steal half a bedsheet?’ Yossarian asked.
Milo grew flustered. ‘You don’t understand,’ he protested. ‘He stole the whole
bedsheet, and I got it back with the package of pitted dates you invested. That’s why the
quarter of the bedsheet is yours. You made a very handsome return on your investment,
particularly since you’ve gotten back every pitted date you gave me.’ Milo next
addressed himself to McWatt. ‘Half the bedsheet is yours because it was all yours to
begin with, and I really don’t understand what you’re complaining about, since you
wouldn’t have any part of it if Captain Yossarian and I hadn’t intervened in your behalf.’
‘Who’s complaining?’ McWatt exclaimed. ‘I’m just trying to figure out what I can do
with half a bedsheet.’
‘There are lots of things you can do with half a bedsheet,’ Milo assured him. ‘The
remaining quarter of the bedsheet I’ve set aside for myself as a reward for my
enterprise, work and initiative. It’s not for myself, you understand, but for the syndicate.
That’s something you might do with half the bedsheet. You can leave it in the syndicate
and watch it grow.’
‘What syndicate?’
‘The syndicate I’d like to form someday so that I can give you men the good food you
deserve.’
‘You want to form a syndicate?’
‘Yes, I do. No, a mart. Do you know what a mart is?’
‘It’s a place where you buy things, isn’t it?’
‘And sell things,’ corrected Milo.
‘And sell things.’
‘All my life I’ve wanted a mart. You can do lots of things if you’ve got a mart. But
you’ve got to have a mart.’
‘You want a mart?’
‘And every man will have a share.’ Yossarian was still puzzled, for it was a business
matter, and there was much about business matters that always puzzled him.
‘Let me try to explain it again,’ Milo offered with growing weariness and exasperation,
jerking his thumb toward the thief with the sweet tooth, still grinning beside him. ‘I knew
he wanted the dates more than the bedsheet. Since he doesn’t understand a word of
English, I made it a point to conduct the whole transaction in English.’
‘Why didn’t you just hit him over the head and take the bedsheet away from him?’
Yossarian asked.
Pressing his lips together with dignity, Milo shook his head. ‘That would have been
most unjust,’ he scolded firmly. ‘Force is wrong, and two wrongs never make a right. It
was much better my way. When I held the dates out to him and reached for the
bedsheet, he probably thought I was offering to trade.’
‘What were you doing?’
‘Actually, I was offering to trade, but since he doesn’t understand English, I can always
deny it.’
‘Suppose he gets angry and wants the dates?’
‘Why, we’ll just hit him over the head and take them away from him,’ Milo answered
without hesitation. He looked from Yossarian to McWatt and back again. ‘I really can’t