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.Hank Chinaski.Journalism.”Kong didn’t answer.He just stared at me.He had dead white skin.There was no glitter or life in his eyes.“What’s your name?” I asked him.He just kept staring.“What’s the matter? Got some placenta caught in your teeth?”Kong slowly raised his right arm.Then he straightened it out and pointed a finger at me.Then he lowered his arm.“Well, suck my weenie,” I said, “what’s that mean?”“Come on, let’s play ball,” one of Kong’s mates said.Lenny bent over the ball and snapped it.Kong came at me.I couldn’t seem to focus on him.I saw the grandstand and some trees and part of the Chemistry Building shake as he crashed into me.He knocked me over backwards and then circled around me, flapping his arms like wings.I got up, feeling dizzy.First Becker K.O.’s me, then this sadistic ape.He smelled; he stank; a real evil son-of-a-bitch.Stapen had thrown an incomplete pass.We huddled.“I got an idea,” I said.“What’s that?” asked Joe.“I’ll throw the ball.You block.”“Let’s leave it the way it is,” said Joe.We broke out of the huddle.Lenny bent over the ball, snapped it back to Stapen.Kong came at me.I lowered a shoulder and rushed at him.He had too much strength.I bounced off him, straightened up, and as I did Kong came again, knifing his shoulder into my belly.I fell.I leaped up right away but I didn’t feel like getting up.I was having breathing problems.Stapen had thrown a short complete pass.Third down.No huddle.When the ball snapped Kong and I ran at each other.At the last moment I left my feet and hurled myself at him.The weight of my body hit his neck and his head, knocking him off balance.As he fell I kicked him as hard as I could and caught him right on the chin.We were both on the ground.I got up first.As Kong rose there was a red blotch on the side of his face and blood at the corner of his mouth.We trotted back to our positions.Stapen had thrown an incomplete pass.Fourth down.Stapen dropped back to punt.Kong dropped back to protect his safety man.The safety man caught the punt and they came pounding up the field, Kong leading the way for his runner.I ran at them.Kong was expecting another high hurdle.This time I dove and clipped him at the ankles.He went down hard, his face hitting the ground.He was stunned, he stayed there, his arms spread out.I ran up and kneeled down.I grabbed him by the back of the neck, hard.I squeezed his neck and rammed my knee into his backbone and dug it in.“Hey, Kong, buddy, are you all right?”The others came running up.“I think he’s hurt,” I said.“Come on, somebody help me get him off the field.”Stapen got him on one side and I got Kong on the other and we walked him to the sideline.Near the sideline I pretended to stumble and ground my left shoe into his ankle.“Oh,” said Kong, “please leave me alone…”“I’m just helpin’ ya, buddy.”When we got him to the sideline we dropped him.Kong sat and rubbed the blood from his mouth.Then he reached down and felt his ankle.It was skinned and would soon begin to swell.I bent over him.“Hey, Kong, let’s finish the game.We’re behind 42-7 and need a chance to catch up.”“Naw, I gotta make my next class.”“I didn’t know they taught dog-catching here.”“It’s English Lit I.”“That figures.Well, look, I’ll help you over to the gym and I’ll put you under a hot shower, what you say?”“No, you stay away from me.”Kong got up.He was pretty busted.The great shoulders sagged, there was dirt and blood on his face.He limped a few steps.“Hey, Quinn,” he said to one of his buddies, “gimme a hand…”Quinn took one of Kong’s arms and they walked slowly across the field toward the gym.“Hey, Kong!” I yelled, “I hope you make your class! Tell Bill Saroyan I said ‘hello’!”The other fellows were standing around, including Baldy and Ballard who had come down from the stands.Here I had done my best ever god-damned act and not a pretty girl around for miles.“Anybody got a smoke?” I asked.“I got some Chesterfields,” Baldy said.“You still smoking pussy cigarettes?” I asked.“I’ll take one,” said Joe Stapen.“All right,” I said, “since that’s all there is.”We stood around, smoking.“We still have enough guys around to play a game,” somebody said.“Fuck it,” I said.“I hate sports.”“Well,” said Stapen, “you sure took care of Kong.”“Yeah,” said Baldy, “I watched the whole thing.There’s only one thing that confuses me.”“What’s that?” asked Stapen [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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