The fight

I tried to sock him, with all my might, right smack in the toothbrush, so it would split his goddam throat open. Only I missed. I didn’t connect. I sort of hit him on the side of the head. It probably would’ve hurt him a lot, but I did it with my right hand, and I cant make a good fist with that hand. On account of my injury. The next thing I knew, I was on the goddam floor and he was sitting on my chest, with his face all red. He had his goddam knees on my chest, and he weighed about a ton. He had hold of my wrists, too, so I couldn’t take another sock at him. I’d’ve killed him. He kept calling me a sonovabitch and all, for around ten hours. I told him he didn’t even care if a girl kept all her kings in the back or not, and the reason he didn’t was because he was a goddam moron. He hated it when you called him a moron. He got really mad. Then he let one go at me, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor again. I don’t remember if he knocked me out or not, but I don’t think so. But my nose was bleeding all over the place. I didn’t even bother to get up, I just lay on the floor calling him a sonovabitch. I was so mad. I told him to stop of and go a give Mrs Schmidt the time. She was the goddam janitors wife. She was around sixty-five. I couldn’t find my goddam hunting hat anywhere. I’m not too tough I’m a pacifist. I had a feeling old Ackley’d probably heard all the racket. So I went through the shower curtain into his room. It always had a funny stink in it, because he was so crumby in his personal habits.