Happy and me look at each other.
Happy says, "Wow."
I says, "It looks like somebody is going to get a bird."
"Yeah," Happy says, "a Bronx one."
"No," I says, "a yellow one with feathers what sings," and I go on down to stand on the edge of the crowd what is surrounding Jimmie and listen to what is being said.
What is being said is all the same color and cut equal. Howinever, I am positive that Jimmie did not do no pull. He is white as death and keeps shaking his head like there is lead shot in it and he is listening to it rattle. He keeps saying, "I cannot understand it, I cannot understand it," over and over. No, he did not do no pull. Spencer Tracy cannot act that good and Jimmie Winkie is not no Spencer Tracy.
I mosey on off and am popping my knuckles and thinking when it comes over the announcing system that Winkie is not hurt none and will be up in the third as scheduled.
But this does not take place, as before the third, Gus Wever comes up to me and he is pale and his Adam's apple is riding up and down on his collar and he says, "Jacks, I got something for you to do."
"Shoot," I says.