"So when you finally see one, you throw a rat in it? Is that the deal?" Danny Pogue picked at a pair of ripe pimples on the peak of his Adam's apple.

"Let's just drop it," said Bud Schwartz.

But Danny Pogue remained agitated all the way to Florida City. He told Bud Schwartz to let him off in front of the Long John Silver's.

"No way," said Bud Schwartz.

"Then I'll jump outta the goddamn truck."

Danny Pogue would damn sure try it, too, Bud thought. Jump out of the damn truck purely on principles.

Bud Schwartz said, "Hey, you don't want to do that. We've gotta go get your money."

"I'll find my own ride."

"It'll look hinky, we don't show up together."

Danny Pogue said, "I'm not riding nowhere with a guy that throws rats on little kids. Understand?"

"What if I said I was sorry," Bud Schwartz said. "I'm sorry, all right? It was a shitty thing to do. I feel terrible, Danny, honest to God. I feel like a shit."

Danny Pogue gave him a sideways look.

"I mean it," said Bud Schwartz. "You got me feeling so bad I got half a mind to cry. Swear to God, look here – my eyes are all watered up. For a second I was thinking of Bud, Jr., about what I'd do, some asshole throwed a rat or any other damn animal at my boy. Probably kill him, that's what I'd do."

As he spun through this routine, Bud Schwartz was thinking: The things I do to keep him steady.

And it seemed to work. In no time Danny Pogue said, "It's all right, Bud. Least nobody got hurt."

"That's true."

"But don't scare no more little kids, understand?"

Bud Schwartz said, "I won't, Danny. That's a promise."

Ten minutes later, stopped at a traffic light in Cutler Ridge, Danny Pogue turned in the passenger seat and said, "Hey, it just hit me."

He was grinning so wide that you could count all the spaces where teeth used to be.

"What?" said Bud Schwartz.