“Say, kid, you dunno how queer that hits me. I just been makin’ up my mind to go to hell, and not give a damn. Do you cuss?”
“Not very often.”
“Well, I cussed God.”
“How do you do that?”
“Why, I said, ‘Damn God!’ I said it half a dozen times, see, and I thought sure the lightnin’ would come down and strike me. I said: I don’t believe, and I ain’t a-goin’ to believe, and I don’t give a damn.”
“Well, but if you don’t believe, why should you be scared?” Bunny’s mind was always logical like that.
“Well, I guess I didn’t know whether I believed or not. I don’t know now. It didn’t seem like I could set my poor frail mind up against the Rock of Ages. I didn’t know there was anybody had ever been that wicked before. Pap says I’m the wickedest boy was ever born.”
“Pap is your father?”
“Yes.”
“What does he believe?”