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Show 26 "Gettin' a good eyeful, mister?" Karl shouted angrily, but the huckster only laughed, showing gaps in his teeth. Karl realized they must look ridiculous: he walking backward pulling the cart, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he didn't trip into any holes in the macadam; Jame with his knees tucked under his chin, looking like a drunk being carted home after a binge; the two dinner pails swinging crazily from the cart handles. Karl felt his cheeks redden as humiliation was added to his anger. When he looked at Jame, though, his anger softened. Jame looked too battered for Karl to stay mad at him. It was lucky he hadn't been killed. And to be honest, it wasn't really Jame's fault, at least not directly, that Karl got fired. Jame would never have wanted to bring Karl trouble, Jame was his friend. By the time they reached the end of the bridge and turned onto Canaan Avenue, Karl was as hot, sticky, and worn out as he'd ever felt in his life. Jame had started to mutter, but was still out of his head, "I must of really tied one on. Baldy Weitz'11 kill me if I show up drunk. They call it the eight-inch mill, Karl, because the rolls are eight inches in diameter." Twisting from side to side, Jame said, "Kathleen. Beautiful, beautiful Kathleen." Karl's head jerked at the sound of his sister's name. Could Jame be sweet on Kathleen? If he was, and Karl's mother Maggie Rose Kerner ever found out about it, her temper would shoot off like a sky rocket. Maggie Rose already had her Irish dander up against all the Culleys. |