When I got on the train I just sort of sat there and did nothing. I usually like riding on trains at night, with the lights on and the windows so black. All I did was take off my red hunting hat and put it in my pocket.
All of a sudden this lady got on and sat down right next to me. The whole car was practically empty, but she came and sat down next to me, instead of sitting in an empty seat. It turns out that her goddamn son goes to Pencey. Ernest Morrow - he was one of those type of people who after they'd had a shower would go around snapping his old wet towel at people's asses. When she asked what my name was I said "Rudolf Schmidt." I didn't feel like giving her my whole goddamn life history.
After we'd chatted about her goddamn son I asked her if she'd care for a cocktail. I was feeling in the mood for one myself. She said that she'd better not and that the club car was most probably closed. I'd forgotten all about what time it was. When he asked why I was going home early I told her all this crap about how I needed an operation because I had a small brain tumour. I couldn't stop lying. Once I get started I can go on for hours. No kidding. Once she was about to get off she wished me luck with my operation and all. She even invited my to visit Ernest in the summer, but I just thanked her and said that I was going to be away in South America with my grandmother. Which was really a hot one, because my grandmother hardly ever leaves the goddamn house. But I wouldn't visit that sonuvabitch Morrow for all the goddamn dough in the world - even if I was desperate.
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