The Catcher in the Rye tells the story of Holden Caulfield’s Worst Weekend Ever, and this video tells the story of that story. From losing the fencing team’s equipment on the subway to breaking the record he bought for his sister Phoebe, nothing seems to be going right for Holden this weekend. But that doesn’t stop him from dreaming of being the savior of innocence—the catcher in the rye. Plus, he’s pretty angsty—hey, he’s a teenager.
|American Literature||20th-Century American Literature|
All American Literature
|Author||Salinger - J. D. Salinger|
Lies and Deceit
Sexuality and Sexual Identity
Wisdom and Knowledge
Okay, here goes. On the Saturday before Christmas break, I lost the fencing team's equipment
on the subway and missed the biggest football game of the year.
Then I went to chat with my history teacher, but he started reading at me from a paper
I wrote and I was like, dude, seriously, I know what I wrote, you don't have to read
it back to me.
To top everything off, I got into it with my roommate, and he beat me up.
Have I mentioned that I was also expelled from my super-expensive private school, so
none of this stuff involving the fencing team and the football game and my history teacher
and my roommate even matters? Yeah.
Better buckle up, boys and girls, because it's still Day One of the Worst Weekend Ever.
I skipped out on ol' Pencey Prep and headed to New York City, thinking I'd spend a few
days in the Big Apple before having to report to the parental units.
Trip Adviser recommended I stay at the swanky Edmont Hotel. I think they meant “skanky.”
I tried to find a lady to spend some quality time with, if you know what I mean, but that
didn't work out, and I got pimp-punched for my trouble.
Then it was Sunday. It's a new day, you're thinking. Things will get better. Oh, but
how wrong you’d be.
I went on a date with this girl I knew, shot my mouth off, and she ditched me.
I bought a record for my kid sister, Phoebe, which I promptly broke.
Then, while my folks were away from home, I went to visit Phoebe. I told her that I
was the catcher in the rye, the guy who's supposed to save children from falling off
the cliff and losing their innocence.
Hey, it totally made sense when I said it. My parents came back, and I escaped from the
apartment to see my old English teacher, Mr. Antolini, who didn't much care for my whole
“catcher in the rye” shtick.
I fell asleep at Mr. Antolini's, but woke up in the middle of the night to find him
painting his toenails. That kind of weirded me out, so I left.
I wandered. I wandered. Then, I wandered some more.
I decided to head out west and live as a deaf-mute, because that makes about as much sense as
anything else I've done.
However, after I broke Phoebe's heart by telling her she couldn't come with me...
...I decided to stay home. I took Phoebe to the zoo and she rode the carousel and… that
was how I ended the worst weekend ever. Of course, I then went to stay in a mental
hospital, where I hung around with this guy named Jerry who went on and on about conspiracy
theories and what an evil jerk Jean-Luc Picard is. He told me I was an inspiration to the
man who shot John Lennon.
So hey… things are looking up!
Oh, and in case you didn’t pick up on it… I’m being sarcastic.