And boy did you act queer—I don't mean fairyish or anything like that but strange."
"What"—I said, struggling to work the blanket around so that I could walk—"is that supposed to mean? What did I do?"
"I've seen guys get happy, or sad, or sleepy, or sexy, but I never saw anyone act the way you did.
It's a good thing you don't drink often. Oh, my God, I only wish I had a camera. What a short subject you'd have made."
"Well, for Christ's sake, what'd I do?" "Not what I expected. No sex, or anything like that.
But you were phenomenal. What an act! The weirdest. You'd be great on the stage. You'd wow them at the Palace.
You went all confused and silly. You know, as if a grown man starts acting like a kid.
Talking about how you wanted to go to school and learn to read and write so you could be smart like everyone else.
Crazy stuff like that. You were a different person—like they do with method-acting—
and you kept saying you couldn't play with me because your mother would take away your peanuts and put you in a cage."
"Peanuts?" "Yeah! So help me!" she laughed, scratching her head.
"And you kept saying I couldn't have your peanuts. The weirdest. But I tell you, the way you talked!
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