"Excellent. Would you come up to my office, Bart, as soon as you've had your mauling?"
"Sure. I'll be right up."
Yoritomo left, and the P.T. man opened the steam box. "Feel O.K., Bart?"
"Yeah, sure," he said abstractedly as he got up on the rubdown table and lay prone. The therapist saw that Stanton was in no mood for conversation, so he proceeded with the massage in silence.
For the first time, Stanton was seeing the Nipe as an individual, as a person, as a thinking, feeling being.
We have a great deal in common, you and I, he thought. Except that you're a lot worse off than I am.
I'm actually feeling sorry for the poor guy, Stanton thought. Which, I suppose, is better than feeling sorry for myself. The only difference between us freaks is that you're a bigger freak than I am. "Molly O'Grady and the Colonel's lady are sisters under the skin."
Where'd that come from? Something I learned in school, I guess—like the snarks and boojums.
"He would answer to Hi! or to any loud cry,
Such as Fry me! or Fritter my wig!"