"I lived right in Salinas," she said. "Come there when I was a kid. Well, a show come through, an’ I met one of the actors. He says I could go with that show. But my ol’ lady wouldn’ let me. ..."

"George gonna give me hell," he said. "George gonna wish he was alone an' not have me botherin' him."

I done another bad thing.

You’ll jus’ stick around an’ stew the b’Jesus outa George all the time.

You ain’t worth a greased jack–pin to ram you into hell. Christ knows George done ever’thing he could to jack you outa the sewer, but it don’t do no good.

"I can go right off there an’ find a cave," he said. And he continued sadly, "—an’ never have no ketchup—but I won’t care. If George don’t want me … I’ll go away. I’ll go away."

"I tol’ you an’ tol’ you," she said. "I tol’ you, ‘Min’ George because he’s such a nice fella an’ good to you.’ But you don’t never take no care. You do bad things."

I di’n’t forget, you bet, God damn. Hide in the brush an’ wait for George.

“The boss was expectin’ you last night,” the old man said. “He was sore as hell when you wasn’t here to go out this morning.”

Says ‘positively kills lice, roaches and other scourges.’ What the hell kind of bed you giving us, anyways. We don’t want no pants rabbits.