Page 147

By Jack Joseph Smith

148 I think I am going to get back to my picnics I-think, that's a good idea; Thomas, ain't you going to stomp that white boy? Now you hush:ups You get going boys. I got enough on my hands Let's go, clowns and what ever else there is arounds I was running down the hill, with the rest of the maniacs, when I heard his voice loud through the yellow blazing sun, Hey boys: Yeah, I answered turning; You pretty fast, Fs laughed, standing there-watching him high on the hill, bigger than hell and shinning black with sweat, Yourvpretty: big, .I yelled; I heard him laughing,.as I began jogging up the hilld This particular day continued with much drinking and secretly gakked about love makings It was a usual Sunday afternoon;, and I was happy that myonce a week enter prize was going well, Beaver was there and so was Wendell Sabastian, Shades of the Lineoln bums passing through my dreams, as I lay om green grass without a cares Wendell Sabastians Well, a man my ages abdeadysférmést intndmes: outstandinglmeritten iis aoeerle of the Lincoln bumsg Much discussion would go ony and I would mock it all spouting lines from phayes-Asnew game for me to plays Who needs to know the rules? Just play play plays. This always annoyed O'Dandy and company, and they-would heckle me o@nsiderably; : Maybe I should take a bows To much trouble, I thoughts A twinkle would come into my eyes, I think I shall; Sweeping lows Ha hay they hated ité They are shouting me

Original Scan

Page 147

AI Interpretation

GPT

Leaving Thomas on the hill and returning to an afternoon of drinking, grass, Beaver, Wendell Sabastian, and Lincoln-bum talk, the narrator keeps mocking O'Dandy and the others with bows, lines from plays, and showy little gestures that sharpen the heckling against him.

The picnic settles back into its usual disorder, but now artifice is being used almost like a blade. He enjoys making O'Dandy's crowd feel stupid, and the theatrical flourishes become another form of domination and self-display.

Claude

Thomas cuts loose — you pretty fast / you're pretty big — and Michael jogs back up the hill to find Wendell Sabastian introduced as a Lincoln-bums ghost and O'Dandy seething that Frost is nothing but a fucking phony.