YOSSARIAN LIVES.
“You know how it is,” Doc Daneeka had wheedled, with a sly, conspiratorial wink. “Why take chances when I don’t have to?”
“Sure,” Yossarian agreed.
“What difference does it make to anyone of I’m in the plane or not?”
“No difference.”
“Sure, that’s what I mean,” Doc Daneeka said. “A little grease is what makes this world go round. One hand washes the other. Know what I mean? You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”
Yossarian knew what he meant.
“That’s not what I meant,” Doc Daneeka said as Yossarian began scratching his back. “I’m talking about cooperation. Favors. You do a favor for me, I’ll do one for you. Get it?”
“Do one for me,” Yossarian requested.
“Not a chance,” Doc Daneeka answered.
“Sure,” Yossarian agreed.
“What difference does it make to anyone of I’m in the plane or not?”
“No difference.”
“Sure, that’s what I mean,” Doc Daneeka said. “A little grease is what makes this world go round. One hand washes the other. Know what I mean? You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”
Yossarian knew what he meant.
“That’s not what I meant,” Doc Daneeka said as Yossarian began scratching his back. “I’m talking about cooperation. Favors. You do a favor for me, I’ll do one for you. Get it?”
“Do one for me,” Yossarian requested.
“Not a chance,” Doc Daneeka answered.