Stradlater

by B. Wahlgren
This is a day in the life of Stradlater, Holden Caulfield’s former roommate, and these are some of the insecurities he experiences.


Awwww crap, the stupid sun, stupid light, stupid morning, stupid school I think to myself, as I realize I’m still at Pencey. I stare at my roommate who moved in since my last one, Holden Caulfield, ran out. He was a crazy sonovagun, and my new roommate Ernest Morrow is a bit more on the sound sign. Anyway that jerk Caulfield messed up my English essay when I sweet talked him into doing for me, and then yelled at me for going on a date with some friend of his. I had t’ beat his lights out after that. So, now things are normal and boring. Walking outta my dorm I run into this shrimp, James Bartelet, who was supposed to have finished my social studies project because I was on a date. I gotta new girlfriend cuz that Jane Gallagher dame was way too intellectual for me. We just sat in her darn car and she ran her mouth about things I don’t understand. The only stuff we did understand was when we chewed the fat. You know the stupid pleasantries and crap.

Anyway back to that dumb Bartelet, I’m gonna need some major help because that old moron ditched my homework, and that stupid Mr. Spencer’s gonna get my case and I am going blow. I glance down the hall and see the escapee sneaking away and I block his exit.


“Hey what’s ya beef pal, with the trouble you jus caused me I oughtta.” I left the sentence hanging.

“But, Stradlater I had three other bozos’ paper to do. You’re just another idiot.”

“Hey, listen I tol’ja ‘t do my homework, and ‘y didn an ‘n ‘y gonna pay the price.”

Bartelet replied “Awwww who needs ya anyhow, drop dead Stradlater.”

That’s when I hit him. An amazing left hook to the jaw that jus abou broke it off his face. He dropped to his knees and I kicked ‘im over on his side. He was jus about crying in rage and pain. I stalked away fuming, what the crap was with that jerk. The smell of the cliché overcooked eggs, and cheap ham filled my nostrils. The food here sucks and all the jerks who eat jus depress me more. Man, I hate it hear. Scanning the crowd I spot some dames and walk over there suave as crap. We talk about all the fake stuff which would be the upcoming vacation, firmly implanted in the front of our minds.

After breakfast I stagger into my room to shave by the can, and get ready for Mr. Spencer’s class, stupid maps, stupid droning on, and on, and on. Upon entering he’s immediately on my case.

“Stadlater, where the heck’s your homework, did your victim not write it for you or what.” That’s Mr. Spencer witty as heck. Geez I’d like shove the Vick’s nose drops up is rear end, for all the crap he’s shooting.

I reply, “ Sorry Mr. Spencer I had ‘t do all my other homework and I jus got lost and for ‘g about the paper.”

“I’m sure.” Spencer can be quite the sarcastic sonovagun.

“Well if you done believing me, your wrong sir.” I sneered the word. This seemed to fulfill the old fart’s desire to taunt.

“Back to your seat then,” cold as heck.

The day shoots by in front of my face and I go off after the classes to shave my darn face by the can before Ackley shows up. Now Ackley is this total jerkface, creeper, stalker, call him what you will. He hates my guts; probably thinks I’m a conceited little idiot. I don’t care what the heck that bub thinks, if he talks t’ m’ I’m gonna punch his teeth through. I walk into bathroom, to my luck the jerk is right their squeezing some stupid pimple of his.
He stares up at me with this sallow eyes.

“Oh it’s you.”

“Yeah it’s me, whaddya care jerk.” He gave me a glare that coulda bumped offa frog.

“Git outta here huh?”

“Nah.”

“C’mon man you really need t’ getta life.” Suddenly I’d had enough of this. Mr. Spencer, Ackley, Jane Gallager, and Pencey. Darn school where everything has to be so darn perfect, crap what the heck is with all the people in this school. Think they’re always so perfect. I thought I was so caught up with this swanky lifestyle. In a fancy prep school with the world at m’ fingers. Bullcrap. I stormed up to m’ room and pulled the darn covers over my head. Gosh I needed t’ g’ away from here. Eventually I reside into a troubled sleep, wondering in the back of my mind if my stupid peers are having similar thoughts.

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This short story speaks to the fact that Pencey can give anyone a hard time, but one can tell that Holden takes it three times worse. He has had troubles with his health, his grades, and mostly his sanity. Being in a situation such as this every day would cause one to become insane.