Carl and the Phone Call

I was talking to Carl a little while ago. It was nothing special just us sitting around having a drink. I was talking to him about life and his sex life. He kept trying to act all mature and so God damn sophisticated. Carl claimed that our conversation was full of “typical Caulfield questions.” He was just being so annoying and phony. But anyways, there was this guy named Luce there who was dating the sculptress in the Village. After awhile I started to hate that guy. He was the kind of guy that wants everybody to listen to him talk about everybody else’s God damn personal lives, but refuses to answer questions about himself. Not to mention he always has to be the big shot. He told me I was immature. I have to agree with him on that one. My real problem is that I can't get really sexy with a girl that I like a lot. I was asking what Carl’s father (who is a psychoanalyst) would think about that. He told me his father would help me recognize the patterns in my mind. I don’t care though. I sat around at that bar for a long time just drinking. By one in the morning I was really really drunk. I started to pretend again that I had a bullet in my gut and I was doing an amazing job hiding it from the rest of the world. Somehow after I ended up in a phone booth and decided to give Sally a call. Then her grandmother picked up the phone but somehow I ended up talking with Sally after awhile. I told her I wanted to trim her tree, or that’s what I remember saying at least. Our conversation ended shortly after that. Then I went to Central Park to find the ducks. But I have some business to catch up on, so I will have to tell you about what happened a little later.