“Hurrah for Pee-wee Harris,” Dorry shouted.
“Do you think we’re afraid of a boy named Pee-wee?” she said. “It sounds like a canary bird.”
Pee-wee pointed the big horn right plunk at her and shouted through it, “Do you call me a canary bird?”
I nearly died laughing.
She said, “If I had a name like Pee-wee I wouldn’t talk about dealing with the civilian population.”
“That name doesn’t belong to me,” he yelled.
“He only rents it,” Hunt said.
“His right name is Sir Harris, R. R.—Raving Raven,” Dorry said.
“What’s your name?” Pee-wee hollered at her through the horn.