the time.
I do
everybody’s
work. All
the hard
ones they
leave to
me. By
God, baby,
I am
becoming a
lovely
surgeon.”
“That
sounds
better.”
“I never
think. No,
by God, I
don’t
think; I
operate.”
“That’s
right.”
“But now,
baby, it’s
all over.
I don’t
operate
now and I
feel like
hell. This
is a
terrible
war, baby.
You
believe me
when I say
it. Now
you cheer
me up. Did
you bring
the
phonograph
records?”
“Yes.”
They were
wrapped in
paper in a
cardboard
