I slammed my fists against Wise's door. "Obed up, Wise. Id's be, Hagle. I god a cold. That's a disease, is'd it?"
Wise threw back the door. "What did you say?"
"I said 'Open up, Wise. It's me, Hagle. I've got a cold'.... Never mind, Wise, never mind."
But you don't want to hear about all that. You want to know about what happened in the relief office. There's not much to tell.
I picked up the check from the guy's desk and looked at it. Nine fifty-seven to buy food for two weeks. I griped that it wasn't enough—not enough to keep alive on and save eighteen seventy-five clear in a lifetime.
The slob at the desk said, "What have you got to complain about? You got your health, don't you?"
That's when I slugged him and smashed up the relief office, and that's why the four cops dragged me here, and that's why I'm lying here on your couch telling you this story, Dr. Schultz.
I had my health, sure, but I finally figured out why. If you believe any of this, you're thinking that the Hexers must have laid off me, which is why I'm healthy. I thought so too, but how would that add up?
Look, I tried every way I could to raise eighteen seventy-five to buy a government bond. I never made it I never made it because I wasn't allowed to.