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The bus driver opened the doors and made me throw it out. I told him I wasn’t going to chuck it at anybody, but he wouldn’t believe me. People never believe you.
I was only thirteen, and they were going to have me psychoanalyze and all, because I broke all the windows in the garage.
That guy had just about everything. Sinus trouble, pimples, lousy teeth, halitosis, crumby fingernails. You had to feel a little sorry for that crazy sonuvabitch.
It probably would’ve hurt him a lot, but I did it with my right hand, and I can’t make a good fist with that hand. On account of the injury I told you about.
You never saw such gore in your life. I had blood all over my mouth and chin and even on my pajamas and bathrobe. It partly scared me and it partly fascinated me.
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