phony, crumb bum, sport.... everything i know about this sort of thing i learned from salinger:
old
pbradley unbuttoned his whole uniform coat. all he had on underneath was a phony shirt collar, but no shirt or anything, he had a big fat hairy stomach.
"nobody's tryna chisel nobody," he said. "let's have it, chief"
"no."
when i said that, he got up from his chair and started walking toward me and all. he looked like he was very, very tired or very, very bored. god, was i scared. it wouldn't have been so bad, i don't think, if i hadn't had just my goddam
pajamas on.
"let's have it, chief." he came right up to where i was standing. that's all he could say. "let's have it, chief." he was a real moron.
"you're a stupid chiseling moron, and in a bout two years you'll be one of those scraggy guys that come up to you on the street and ask for a dime for coffee. you'll have snot all over yr dirty filthy overcoat, and you'll be --"
then he smacked me. i didn't even try to get out of the way or duck or anything. all i felt was this terrific punch in the stomach.