The Morning After...

Disclaimer: Not mine. All the genius child of Mr. Salinger. Ely is a character mentioned in The Catcher in the Rye, however, Ely's personality was made up by me since only his name was mentioned.

"Ackley..."

Shut up. I'm sleeping.

"Ackley! ACLKEY! For Chrissakes, get out of the damn bed!"

No, you get out of YOUR damn bed, Holden Caufield! Now shut your yap.

"Ackley! I ain't kidding man! Get your ass out of bed right now and explain!"

Then I felt something grasped my shoulders and jerked me out of bed and onto the floor. God damn, it was cold. What the hell did Holden want anyway? He should be grateful that I let him sleep in Ely's bed. Stupid bastard. Stupid…stupid…Ely?

"Ely?" I forgot about the floor, only for a second or two cause there's no way someone can ignore that cold, and stared up at the tall figure standing above me. He was still in his ugly snowsuit, which is this revolting color of puke brown. On his head was the cap I saw him wear when he left Thursday. I thought he's not coming back until Sunday night. What the hell is he doing here? His snow suit's such a corny thing…I swear to god, I will burn it someday while the stupid sonuvabitch's not watching. He looked all ginned up in his snowsuit. It was an ugly thing really.

"For Chrissakes, Ely, why the hell did you drag me out of bed? AND what are you going on about. Jesus, now I'm cold and—"

"I don't give a damn whether you're on the floor or on the roof, Ackley. I come home early and what do I find? Guess what I find?"

How the hell is I suppose to know that? I'm not god damn mind reader. The damn bastard's got to get it through his thick skull that he dragged me out of my own bed on a Sunday morning, while I'm still trying to get some sleep before mass starts. He had no right to be asking me stupid questions like these. What is the time anyway? Mass better not have started without me. I'm going to have to lead the prayers today, and just thinking of the trouble I'll be in makes my face itch. Damn pimples.

"I don't give a damn to what you found, Ely." I have to admit that I was curious though. But I let him know my mind and that I did not appreciate him booting me out of bed this early in the morning. His face is a brilliant shade of red, and he looks ready to blow. I wouldn't want to be in the same room with this idiot when he got that temper of his. Ely was a ranter. When he's ready to blow a fuse, he start from a word and then go on and on and on with his gobbledygook until he finally tires. I swear, sometime it just kills me to hear him go on like that. I just want to sock him in the jaw when he starts like that. But the dumb bastard is better than some of the sonuvubitches living around this place, like that sonuvubitch living in the next room. Stradlater…that stupid sonuvubitch. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? You're supposed to be at your house, cozying it up with that damn family of yours. Jesus Christ the floor is cold!"

Ely must have said something to me, cause his face got even more red. Maybe the zipper on his goddamn snowsuit will bust. Then he'll have to buy a new snowsuit. Knowing Ely though, he will probably buy another corny brown suit. I was so busy picking myself up the floor where Ely had dropped me, and grabbing a sweater.

"Hell, Ackley, listen to me!" Ely roared. Naturally, being the good natured guy I was, I paid the ungrateful beast some attention.

"Look at that! Look at it Ackley! It's all over my GODDAMN BED!" I followed his gloved finger, and glanced at the bed. Jesus Christ! What the hell happened to it? The bed was covered in blood stains, especially the cushion, where it looked like someone had imprinted a damn bloody face into it. Well, someone must have imprint their goddamn bloody face in it last night. He must have been rubbing his nose right into the pillow. It damn near killed Ely, I can see that, and I have to admit, even scared the hell out of me. Ely's hemophobic, you see, scared to death of blood. Wait, or is it homophobic? It's one of those Goddamn phobics that always get people confused, so I don't blame myself for this one small confusion. The people who name the names, those professors and stuffs shoulda known better than getting us all confused like this. It's their Goddamn hobby, I swear, to make everyone around them seem as dumb as they can possibly be. Anyway, it's one of his many weaknesses, this homophobia, hemophobia thing. It must have really killed him to see it smeared all over his pillow, really, it almost killed me too.

Then I remembered. Holden Caufield and his face full of blood. He had gotten in a fight with his bastard of a roommate last night. "Stupid sonuvubitch, that Caufield…" I muttered under my breath. He had smeared his goddamn bloody face all over the damn bed. Ungrateful moron, leaving blood all over the bed even when I was kind enough to let him sleep here for the night after the fight.

"What about Caufield? What about him? I swear to God, if that's his blood, I'm going over there right now and stuffing this Goddamn pillow case down his yap!" What a liar. Ely can be such a liar sometimes. He's damn scared of anything having to do with violence. The blood will get to him and freeze him all up. He's just saying this cause he thinks he can be an ass like that. It kills me.

"Holden's not here anymore. He left last night," I told him in my cool, suave voice. I was the inside man. I was there when it all happened anyway. "He left after he got into a fight with Stradlater over me."

"Over you?" Ely stood where he was as I stepped to the bed, inspecting the blood like I had seen the detectives doing in the theaters. He looked so stupid, still clutching his traveler's bag, wearing his snow cap and his corny brown jacket. He was almost as tall as me, just a few inches shorter, and because of his fear of anything that might cause him to bleed, Ely's a stringy looking guy. He's strong though. Strong enough to pull me out of bed like that and throw me on the floor, especially when he's scared. I read somewhere once, when someone sees something that scares the hell out of them, they immediately gain this strange strength to help them move. Think I read it in English, or was it science.

Ely's an alright roommate. I wouldn't say he's the best, but he's an alright guy. "Over me," I reassured him as I picked up the pillow, which was completely drenched in blood. They will have to change his 

pillow too cause it's so covered in blood. Picking at one of the annoying damn pimples on my chin, I thought about throwing it at the pile of used socks at the end of my bed. But I don't want Holden's blood soiling my socks. Jesus Christ, he was bleeding more than I had thought. I only got a look at him last night when he just busted into my room like that. The guy gives people no privacy, I swear to god.

"Yeah, Holden was defending me, defending me! He probably got knocked around bad. They were scrambling, and yelling and thumping all over in the next room. You should have seen Holden's face when he came in last night. Should have asked me to come over and give him a hand, I wouldn't have given that sonuvubitch a good knocking around. Damn, I would have done it good and well." I imagined myself punching Stradlater several times in the face, then kicking him in the gut. That stupid sonuvubitch had it coming. His high and mighty attitude deserves only so much. Damned sonuvubitch, I would have knocked him so hard his jaw wouldn't sit right.

"Why are you back so early anyway? I thought you were not supposed to get back until tonight," I wasn't interested, but better to ask now than later.

"When does my life story interest you, Ackley? It doesn't matter if I'm back early or not. What matters is that I find blood all over my goddamn bed when I get back to MY dorm, in MY room—"

Ely finally realized that he was still carrying his bag. Stupid. Dropping it, he glanced at the pillow I was holding, all the time while ranting about Holden's goddamn blood in his goddamn room. I swear to God, he can't punch to save his life but he sure as hell can talk your ears off sometimes.

"Hey, Ely, hold this for me will you?" It was mean, but he deserved it, for talking so much. Boy, I have never seen anyone talk as much as Ely. It really makes me wonder where he gets all that breath to talk so much. Doesn't he get tired of it?

"Huh? What? OH JESUS CHRIIIST!" You should have heard his scream! It damn near broke my ear drums. Probably would have been better if he had ranted instead. He caught the pillow though. He had good reflexes. It must have been that adrenaline thing again, where you get incredible strength to do things you're usually not able to do.

Plop!

Oh Damn. The stupid sonuvubitch dropped, just like that! Goddamn coward, fainting like that of all things. Is he even a man? Goddamn it, what the hell am I suppose to do now? Damn, I hope no one walks in. I'd be in trouble so deep that the Stradlater sonuvubitch can't even scratch out of with his superior attitude.

"Ely? Ely, Goddamn it. It is NOT funny, do you hear me? ELY. GET YOUR ASS UP FROM THE FLOOR THIS MINUTE! I'm not kidding with you! ELY!!"

I actually did this for a class competition. And I won best written story for trying to model Salinger's writing style in the book. :3

This is actually one of the best book I've ever read in my junior year of English, aside from The Great Gatsby. Hope you enjoyed it.