“Look out, kid, you’ll blow yourself away with that whistle.”
Pee-wee’s cheeks bulged as he blew a frantic blast to warn Mr. Temple’s chauffeur, who was taking little Janet Temple to school in the big Temple Pierce Arrow. Fords and Pierce Arrows, they were all the same to Pee-wee. He would have stopped the fire engines themselves.
“Hey, mister, look out, there’s a boy behind that badge,” a mirthful onlooker called.
“Cheese it, kid, here comes President Harding.”
“Here comes the ambulance, Pee-wee. Don’t blow your whistle, you’ll wake up the patient.”
“Hey, kid, here comes a wop with a donkey, blow your whistle. Hold up your hand for the donkey.”
“Hold up your own hand!” Pee-wee shouted. “He belongs to your family.”
“Hey, Pee-wee, tell that sparrow to get off the street or he’ll run into a car and bust it.”
“Stand on your head, kid, that’s what I’d do!”
“You haven’t got any head to stand on!” Pee-wee shouted.