Men in the yard, on W-09:
“Come on, steel-balls, don’t you ever lie down? Makes me work for my pleasure.” — a man in the kick line
“Hold still. Don’t you move. Oh—right. You can’t feel it. That’s the problem.”— the night-class cane hand
“You know he’s up there till midnight, every night? Kid’s got a death wish and a hard-on. Never skips.” — a tavern regular
“Kick him, he gets hard. He’s got the whole rack figured out. Show-off.” — a man who just kicked him
“Cry, you dumb ox. One tear and I’d let you off. Takes the fun out of a job when you won’t even flinch.” — the man who works the cane
