The hairy man put his fists on his flanks and said, "What you lookin' at, son?"
"You," I said, because Pa had taught me to answer adults, and then, "Sir," because Pa had taught me to be polite.
The hairy man nodded, then belched. I smelled something like Grandma Bette's breath after she drank port -- soda pop for grown-ups, only stronger. Then the man laughed. "Think you see good, son?"
I had never thought about how well I saw. Ma and Pa both wore glasses, and Little Bit and I didn't, so I nodded.
The hairy man laughed again. "You ain't seen a thing till you've seen it straight on an' out the corner of your eye, both. Near any fool can do one or the other."
As an approaching band broke into "When the Saints Go Marc