Falconer+-+John+Cheever

Falconer 134
Farragut washed himself carefully and vigorously with cold water
and then smelled himself like a canine, sniffed his armpits and his
crotch, but he couldn’t tell whether it was he or Bumpo who
smelled. Walton was on duty, studying his texts. He was taking a
night course in automobile salesmanship. He couldn’t pay too
much attention to whether or not they talked. When Ransome
asked to play cards with the Stone, he sprang him impatiently.
“I’m studying for an exam. I’m studying for an exam. I know that
none of youse knows what that means, but if I flunk this exam I
got to take the whole year over again. This whole place is gone
crazy. I can’t study at home. The baby’s sick and crying all the
time. I come here early to study in the squad room, but the squad
room is like an insane asylum. Now I come here looking for peace
and quiet and it’s like the Tower of Babel. Play cards but shut up.”
Farragut, taking advantage of this, began to shout at Bumpo.
“Why the fuck don’t you wash your skin? I’ve washed myself, I’ve
washed myself all over, but I can’t enjoy my clean smell because
you smell like a waste can in the back alley behind some butcher
store.”
“Oh, I do, do I!” yelled Bumpo. “So that’s how you get your rocks
off, sniffing cans outside butchers’.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” said Walton. “I got to study for this
exam. You know what it’s like, Farragut. If I fail this exam I have
to spend another year, another semester anyhow, sitting on my ass
on a hard chair studying what I already knew but forgot. And my
professor is a bitch. Talk if you have to, but talk softly.”
“Oh, Bumpo, oh, Bumpo, dear Bumpo, darling Bumpo,” said
Farragut softly, “what did the cashier say to the cash register?”
“I’m a wrinkled grape,” said Bumpo.
“Oh, darling Bumpo,” said Farragut softly. “I have a great favor to
ask of you. The history of modern civilization depends upon your
arriving at an intelligent decision. I have heard you speak fluently