〃I didnt know the sponge was supposed to be wet;〃 Percy said in his robots voice。 〃Its never wet in rehearsal。〃
Dean looked at him with utter disgust。 〃How many years did you spend pissing on the toilet seat before someone told you to put it up before you start?〃 he snarled。
Percy opened his mouth to reply; but I told him to shut up。 For a wonder; he did。 I turned to Anderson。
〃Percy fucked up; Curtis … thats what happened; pure and simple。〃 I turned toward Percy; daring him to contradict me。 He didnt; maybe because he read my eyes: better that Anderson hear stupid mistake than on purpose。 And besides; whatever was said down here in the tunnel didnt matter。 What mattered; what always matters to the Percy Wetmores of the world; is what gets written down or overheard by the big bugs … the people who matter。 What matters to the Percys of the world is how it plays in the newspapers。
Anderson looked at the five of us uncertainly。 He even looked at Del; but Del wasnt talking。 〃I guess it could be worse;〃 Anderson said。
〃Thats right;〃 I agreed。 〃He could still be alive。〃
Curtis blinked … that possibility seemed not to have crossed his mind。 〃I want a plete report about this on my desk tomorrow;〃 he said。 〃And none of you are going to talk to Warden Moores about it until Ive had my chance。 Are you?〃
We shook our heads vehemently。 If Curtis Anderson wanted to tell the warden; why; that was fine by us。
〃If none of those asshole scribblers put it in their papers …〃
〃They wont;〃 I said。 〃If they tried; their editorsd kill it。 Too gruesome for a family audience。 But they wont even try … they were all vets tonight。 Sometimes things go wrong; thats all。 They know it as well as we do。〃
Anderson considered a moment longer; then nodded。 He turned his attention to Percy; an expression of disgust on his usually pleasant face。 〃Youre a little asshole;〃 he said; 〃and I dont like you a bit。〃 He nodded at Percys look of flabbergasted surprise。 〃If you tell any of your candy…ass friends I said that; Ill deny it until Aunt Rhodys old gray goose es back to life; and these men will back me up。 Youve got a problem; son。〃
He turned and started up the stairs。 I let him get four steps and then said: 〃Curtis?〃
He turned back; eyebrows raised; saying nothing。
〃You dont want to worry too much about Percy;〃 I said。 〃Hes moving on to Briar Ridge soon。 Bigger and better things。 Isnt that right; Percy?〃
〃As soon as his transfer es through;〃 Brutal added。
〃And until it es; hes going to call in sick every night;〃 Dean put in。
That roused Percy; who hadnt been working at the prison long enough to have accumulated any paid sick…time。 He looked at Dean with bright distaste。 〃Dont you wish;〃 he said。
6。
We were back on the block by one…fifteen or so (except for Percy; who had been ordered to clean up the storage room and was sulking his way through the job); me with a report to write。 I decided to do it at the duty desk; if I sat in my more fortable office chair; Id likely doze off。 That probably sounds peculiar to you; given what had happened only an hour before but I felt as if Id lived three lifetimes since eleven oclock the previous night; all of them without sleep。
John Coffey was standing at his cell door; tears streaming from his strange; distant eyes … it was like watching blood run out of some unhealable but strangely painless wound。 Closer to the desk; Wharton was sitting on his bunk; rocking from side to side; and singing a song apparently of his own invention; and not quite nonsense。 As well as I can remember; it went something like this:
〃Bar…be…cue! Me and you!
Stinky; pinky; phew…phew…phew!
It wasnt Billy or Philadelphia Philly; it wasnt Jackie or Roy! It was a warm little number; a hot cucumber; by the name of Delacroix!〃
〃Shut up; you jerk;〃 I said。
Wharton grinned; showing his mouthful of dingy teeth。 He wasnt dying; at least not yet; he was up; happy; practically tap…dancing。 〃e on in here and make me; why dont you?〃 he said happily; and then began another verse of 〃The Barbecue Song;〃 making up 。 There was something going on in there; all right。 A kind of green and stinking intelligence that was; in its own way; almost brilliant。
I went down to John Coffey。 He wiped away his tears with the heels of his hands。 His eyes were red and sore…looking; and it came to me that he was exhausted; too。 Why he should have been; a man who trudged around the exercise yard maybe two hours a day and either sat or laid down in his cell the rest of the time; I didnt know; but I didnt doubt what I was seeing。 It was too clear。
〃Poor Del;〃 he said in a low; hoarse voice。 〃Poor old Del。〃
〃Yes;〃 I said。 〃Poor old Del。 John; are you okay?〃
〃Hes out of it;〃 Coffey said。 〃Dels out of it。 Isn
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