Stan was lying on the bed reading La Revolte des Anges. “Darn it, I wish I knew some languages the way you do Herfy.”
“Oh I dont know any French any more. I forget em so much quicker than I learn em.”
“By the way I’m fired from college.”
“How’s that?”
“Dean told me he thought it advisable I shouldnt come back next year ... felt that there were other fields of activity where my activities could be more actively active. You know the crap.”
“That’s a darn shame.”
“No it isnt; I’m tickled to death. I asked him why he hadnt fired me before if he felt that way. Father’ll be sore as a crab ... but I’ve got enough cash on me not to go home for a week. I dont give a damn anyway. Honest havent you got any liquor?”
“Now Stan how’s a poor wageslave like myself going to have a cellar on thirty dollars a week?”
“This is a pretty lousy room.... You ought to have been born a capitalist like me.”
“Room’s not so bad.... What drives me crazy is that paranoiac alarm across the street that rings all night.”