I told him, “Sure, we can catch canned salmon and fishballs and baseballs and everything. When we go down there we’ll let the fish know we’re coming, we’ll drop them a line.”
So then we all started along the tracks down to the river to kind of look around down there and make plans.
I said, “I hope the field is still down there; I hope Mr. Van Schlessenhoff didn’t put it in the market. Anyway, the river won’t be there.”
“What are you talking about?” Pee-wee yelled..
“I’m talking about whether ice cream should be fried or roasted,” I said.
“You’re crazy,” he shouted.
“I admit it,” I told him. “If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be talking to you.”
“Why won’t the river be there?” he began shouting.
“Because it flows past Bridgeboro,” I told him. “Did you ever hear of a river staying in one place? It takes an east-westerly course and flows into New York Bay. You learn that in the third grade.”
“You’re so smart—where does it rise?” he yelled.