“Given it to a dog?” I shouted, grabbing him by the arm.
“Why not?” Bogle said, on the offensive. “Want to make anything of it? Do you think it’s too good for a dawg?”
“Listen, you fat jerk,” I exclaimed. “That wasn’t a sausage. It was Pablo.”
Bogle’s eyes opened. “What was that?” he asked, starting.
“That sausage wasn’t a sausage at all. It was Pablo turned into a sausage,” I explained, trying to keep my voice down.
“The sausage wasn’t a sausage, it was Pablo?” Bogle repeated in a dazed voice. “Was that what you said?”
“Yes, you fat fool!”
“Iszatso? Well, it certainly looked like a sausage to me.”
“I don’t care what it looked like to you! It’s Pablo done up like a sausage.”
“Done up like a sausage?” Bogle’s eyes looked scared. “ I see.”