Haiku for Allie

He was a nice guy
I broke down when he left us
You would have loved him

Allie's Baseball mitt

I didn't have a date or anything so I stuck around my dorm and decided to to Stradlater's crappy composition.
I stared out of the window for what must've been like an hour. I was staring at the snow. Like I said, I thought it was pretty, it looked nice and white. Anyway, I couldn't really think of a room, or a house, or anything like that. I put on my red hunting hat and tried to think. Besides, I ain't too crazy about describing houses or rooms anyway. I wrote about my Brother, Allie's baseball mitt. It was a really descriptive subject. It really was. It was a left-handed fielder's mitt. Allie was left handed. It had loadsa' poetry scribbled all over it. It was all over the fingers and the pockets, everywhere. In green ink. Allie's dead now. He died of leukemia on July 18th 1946. He was eleven. Two years my junior. He's been dead three years. He was terrifically intelligent, he really was. His teachers were always sending letters to my Mother telling her just how intelligent he was. He was probably the most intelligent member of the family. I guess I kinda idolize him because of it. Sounds weird I know. Idolizing my kid Brother. He had red hair and the weird thing is, people with red hair are supposed to be really angry. Not Allie. He couldn't get mad at anything. He was the nicest guy ever. God he was a nice kid.

I cried like hell when he died. I was only thirteen and they were going to have me psychoanalyzed. All because I broke all the windows in the garage. I don't balme them though. I really don't. I slept in the grage for a while. I slept there the night he died. I broke all the goddam windows with my fits. Just for the hell of it. Damn near broke my hand. I can't make a proper fist with it anymore. Anyway, that's what I wrote Stradlater's goddam composition about. Allie's baseball mitt.

Jane Gallagher

I wasn't doing anything special that night so I went and chewed the rag with Stradlater whist he was shaving. I sat in the Washbowl right next to him and watched him. I kept turning the cold water on and off, I dunno' why, nervous habit I guess. Stradlater was a right slob if you thought about it. I mean, he was a clean looking sort of guy, unlike Ackley. Now there's a crumby guy for ya'! He had really mossy teeth and loadsa' pimples, all over his face! Anyway, Stradlater was different . You should of seen his razor! It was as rusty as hell and was full of lather and hairs and crap. He always looked well groomed though. But by looking at his razor, you wouldn't have thought it.

"Hey!" said Stradlater suddenly taking me out of my daydream about his razor. "Wonna' do me a big favor?" he asked. Nice as hell, damn phoney.

It turns out he wanted me to do this goddam composition for him of English. Can you beleive the cheek! I mean he was asking me and I was the one who was failing at absolutly everything! It wasn't much, well, not for me. It was just a composition about something descriptive.

"Who's your date tonight?" I asked. Just to be nosey.

"Jane Gallagher. ' He said.

I nearly dropped dead when he said that name. He used to live next door to me. I really exited that remembered me. I really was. I used to play checkers with Old Jane. She used to keep all her kings in the back row and just leave 'em there. She never moved them. I liked her. I really did. I guess I kinda' missed her in a way. I was pretty glad that she'd remebered me. Stradlater started putting on his tie and jacket. We were beack in out dorm room now.

"Do that compesition for me will ya'?" He said. "Don't knock yourself out or anything, just make it as descriptive as hell Okay?"

I didn't answer. I didn't feel like it. But I'll tell you what I did ask him. I asked him to askes Old Jane if she still kept all her kings in the back row, I knew she'd know what I meant. Stradlater said he would. But I doubt it. I sat in my chair for about half an hour after he'd gone. I couldn't get Jane out of my head. I kept thinking about her and Stradlater together. It made me so nervous I nearly went crazy.

Roommate

After visiting Old Spencer I went back to to my dorm, the Ossenburger Memorial Wing it was called. It was named after some phoney why used to go to Pencey, he made a load of dough out of bein' an Undertaker. My dorm was only for juniors and seniors. I was a junior, my roommate was a senior. Anyway, I got back to my room, it was warm for once. They always put the heating on when no one was there. It was a waste of time really. I was alone, everyone was down at the game, so I put on my red hunting hat that I told you about earlier, with the peak way around the back. I liked wearing it like that. I sat in my chair and resumed reading this book that I took out of the library. They gave the wrong goddam book but I didn't realize it 'til I got it back to my room. 'Out of Africa' it was called by Isak Dinesen. It was a very good book. About African Tribes, it amazes me how similar they are to the Native Americans.

My favourite author is my brother, D.B. But he sold-out for the money. Anyway, just as soon as I had got comfortable in my chair with my book and my cool hat I heared someone come through the shower curtain. It was only Robert Ackley. I could feel him standing on the shower ledge right behinde my chair. He was taking a look to see if my roommate Stradlater was around. He hated Stradlater's guts. He hated everyone's guts damn near.

"Alright Ackley Kid?" I asked. I did that to annoy him. He was just standing there hovering looking over my shoulder. I hated it when he did that. He was always there, just standing there on the shower ledge for now apparent reason. Anyone would think that he was my goddam roommate. He hated it when people called him 'Ackley Kid' he was always telling me that I was a goddam kid. It drove him mad when you called him 'Ackley Kid.'

He started standing in my light and demanded that I don't call him 'Ackley kid.' He started to really get on my nerves. Asking all these goddam irritating questions about the Fencing match an all. I must have read the same goddam sentence about twenty times! I must've dropped like a million hints about him getting up and clearing off. Anyone else would have got the message, but not Ackley. He continued to ask all his irritation questions, this time about my roommate, Stradlater. He asked who his date was and everything. I told him that I didn't really know and that was the goddam truth, I didn't particularly care either. You know that saying 'talk of the Devil and it arrives' well I'll tell you one thing. It's goddam true. Just as soon as we started taling abot Stradlater, he entered the room. He was in a hurry. Come to think of it, he was always in a big hurry.

"How'sa boy, Ackley?" he said to Ackley, you could tell this this annoyed Ackley, like I said, he hated Strdlater's guts.

Ackley just sort off grunted and left the room. He never could stay long in the same room as Stradlater. I was relieved, it meant I could continue reading.