"He don't look a bit scared. He keeps grinning at me.
They put the graphite salve on his temples. 'What is it?' he says, 'Conductant,' the technician says. 'Anointest my head with conductant. Do I get a crown of thorns?'
They smear it on. He's singing to them, makes their hands shake.
'Get Wildroot Cream Oil, Cholly...'
Put on those things like headphones, crown of silver thorns over the graphite at his temples. They try to hush his singing with a piece of rubber hose for him to bite on.
'Mage with thoothing lan-o-lin.'
Twist some dials, and the machine trembles, two robot arms pick up soldering irons and hunch down on him. He gives me the wink and speaks to me, muffled, tells me something, says something to me around that rubber hose just as those irons get close enough to the silver on his temples - light arcs across, stiffens him, bridges him up off that crimped black rubber hose a sound like hooeee! and he's frosted over completely with sparks.
And out the window the sparrows drop smoking off the wire.
They roll him out on a Gurney, still jerking, face frosted white.
Corrosion. Battery acid. The technician turns to me.
Watch that other moose. I know him. Hold him!
It's not a will-power thing any more.
Hold him! Damn. No more of these boys without Secondal.
The clamps bite my wrists and ankles.
The graphite salve has iron fillings in it, temples scratching.
He said something when he winked. Told me something.
Man bends over, brings two irons toward the ring on my head.
The machine hunches on me.
AIR RAID.
Hit a lope, running already down the slope. Can't get back, can't go ahead, look down the barrel an' you dead dead dead."
- Ken Kesey
One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
I really didn't think i would enjoy it and it took me until the last chapter to do so, but i'm pretty fond of this book and all it's characters. Who knows if i'll read it again, i don't feel any great urge to but i'm glad i did. Really glad.
I wish to see the movie now please.
Jack Nicholson seems like the perfect choice for McMurphy, even with the lack of red hair and being built like a brick shit house.
I said 'Shit brick house' a fews days ago. I'm a numpty.
It's great the things you remember when talking sillyness with a buddy.
Anybody else have a WereBear? They were great. Anything you can turn inside out and make something new is great.
Great great great =]
I was going to read Titus Groan next but i need something small after Ken Kesey; not an easy read! So now i'm thinking, A Hero Of Our Time by Mikhail Lermontov. My sister says it's like an older Catcher In The Rye, which could be nice.
I really didn't want to like that book.
Oh well.
Just add me to the masses of adoring Salinger fans.
Darn.
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