（外文电子版资料）Children Of The Corn.doc

CHILDREN OF THE CORN Burt turned the radio on too loud and didnt turn it down because they were on the verge of another argument and he didnt want it to happen. He was desperate for it not to happen. Vicky said something. What? he shouted. Turn it down! Do you want to break my eardrums? He bit down hard on what might have come through his mouth and turned it down. Vicky was fanning herself with her scarf even though the T-Bird was air-conditioned. Where are we, anyway? -Nebraska. She gave him a cold, neutral look. Yes, Burt. I know were in Nebraska, Burt. But where the hell are we? Youve got the road atlas. Look it up. Or cant you read? Such wit. This is why we got off the turnpike. So we could look at three hundred miles of corn. And enjoy the wit and wisdom of Burt Robeson. He was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. He decided he was holding it that tightly because if he loosened up, why, one of those hands might just fly off and hit the ex-Prom Queen beside him right in the chops. We re saving our marriage, he told himself. Yes. Were doing it the same way us grunts went about saving villages in the war. Vicky, he said carefully. I have driven fifteen hundred miles on turnpikes since we left Boston. I did all that driving myself because you refused to drive. Then - I did not refuse! Vicky said hotly. Just because I get migraines when I drive for a long time -Then when I asked you if youd navigate for me on some of the secondary roads, you said sure, Burt. Those were your exact words. Sure, Burt. Then -Sometimes I wonder how I ever wound up married to you. By saying two little words. She stared at him for a moment, white-lipped, and then picked up the road atlas. She turned the pages savagely. It had been a mistake leaving the turnpike, Burt thought morosely. It was a shame, too, because up until then they had been doing pretty well, treating each other almost like human beings. It had sometimes seemed that this trip to the coast, ostensibl