"Wino," said Stanley, "Wino Jones. We are going over to the other side now. But we will be back, you hear me? You just wait."
"Sure, Stanley," said Jones, still gentle, kind. "Only, Stanley, are you sure?"
"I'm sure," said Stanley. He turned to his friend. "Come on. Let's go."
They moved together toward the bushes.
Stanley looked back over his shoulder at Jones. "We'll be back," he said, "we'll be back, Wino. You be looking for us."
Then they were gone. Thank the good Lord, they were gone.
"Well," I quavered at Jones, "you did say you were kind of uneasy about him, didn't you?"
"Yes," said Jones, "that's right. You going on home now, Ed?"
"You bet!"
"I don't like to impose, but would you mind if I kind of tagged along? I don't feel too good—after that thing with Stanley, built of all those thousands of hissing, wiggling snakes."