"Чарльз Буковски. Бутерброд с дерьмом (engl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

He wanted to throw me out. He would never do it. The ball landed and rolled
onto a diamond where some 5th graders were playing. I ran slowly to first,
hit the bag, looked at the guy on first, ran slowly to second, touched it,
ran to third where David stood, ignored him, tagged third and walked to home
plate. Never such a day. Never such a home run by a first grader! As I
stepped on home plate I heard one of the players, Irving Bone, say to the
team captain, Stanley Greenberg, "Let's put him on the regular team." (The
regular team played teams from other schools.)
"No," said Stanley Greenberg.
Stanley was right. I never hit another home run. I struck out most of
the time. But they always remembered that home run and while they still
hated me, it was a better kind of hatred, like they weren't quite sure
why.

Football season was worse. We played touch football. I couldn't catch
the football or throw it but I got into one game. When the runner came
through I grabbed him by the shirt collar and threw him on the ground. When
he started to get up, I kicked him. I didn't like him. It was the first
baseman with vaseline in his hair and the hair in his nostrils. Stanley
Greenberg came over. He was larger than any of us. He could have killed me
if he'd wanted to. He was our leader. Whatever he said, that was it. He told
me,
"You don't understand the rules. No more football for you."
I was moved into volleyball. I played volleyball with David and the
others. It wasn't any good. They yelled and screamed and got excited, but
the others were playing football. I wanted to play football. All I
needed was a little practice. Volleyball was shameful. Girls played
volleyball. After a while I wouldn't play. I just stood in the center of the
field where nobody was playing. I was the only one who would not play
anything. I stood there each day and waited through the two recess sessions,
until they were over.
One day while I was standing there, more trouble came. A football
sailed from high behind me and hit me on the head. It knocked me to the
ground. I was very dizzy. They stood around snickering and laughing. "Oh,
look, Henry fainted! Henry fainted like a lady! Oh, look at Henry!"
I got up while the sun spun around. Then it stood still. The sky moved
closer and flattened out. It was like being in a cage. They stood around me,
faces, noses, mouths and eyes. Because they were taunting me I thought they
had deliberately hit me with the football. It was unfair.
"Who kicked that ball?" I asked.
"You wanna know who kicked the ball?"
"Yes."
"What are you going to do when you find out?"

I didn't answer.
"It was Billy Sherril," somebody said.
Billy was a round fat boy, really nicer than most, but he was one of
them. I began walking toward Billy. He stood there. When I got close he
swung. I almost didn't feel it. I hit him behind his left ear and when he
grabbed his ear I hit him in the stomach. He fell to the ground. He stayed