his own agonized； startled cry
in the still and unheeding air： Oh you goddamn fucking son of a bitch 。。。
Replaced with an image two years earlier； himself stumbling into the house at
three in the morning； drunk； falling over a table and sprawling full…length on
the floor； cursing； waking Wendy up on the couch。 Wendy turning on the light；
seeing his clothes ripped and smeared from some cloudy parking…lot scuffle that
had occurred at a vaguely remembered honky…tonk just over the New Hampshire
border hours before； crusted blood under his nose； now looking up at his wife；
blinking stupidly in the light like a mole in the sunshine； and Wendy saying
dully； You son of a bitch； you woke Danny up。 If you don't care about yourself；
can't you care a little bit about us？ Oh； why do I even bother talking to you？
The telephone rang； making him jump。 He snatched it off the cradle；
illogically sure it must be either Ullman or Al Shockley。 〃What？〃 he barked。
〃Your overtime； sir。 Three dollars and fifty cents。〃
〃I'll have to break some ones；〃 he said。 〃Wait a minute。〃
He put the phone on the shelf； deposited his last six quarters； then went out
to the cashier to get more。 He performed the transaction automatically； his mind
running in a single closed circle like a squirrel on an exercise wheel。
Why had he called Ullman？
Because Ullman had embarrassed him？ He had been embarrassed before； and by
real masters the Grand Master； of course； being himself。 Simply to crow at the
man； expose his hypocrisy？ Jack didn't think he was that petty。 His mind tried
to seize on the scrapbook as a valid reason； but that wouldn't hold water
either