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Chapter 8
"An’ol’Turnbull,stinkin’skunk,braggin’howhe’llshootyawhenyacomeout.SayshegotHatfieldblood.Well,Isentwordtohim.Isays,’Don’tmessaroundwithnoJoad.MaybeIgotMcCoybloodforallIknow.’Isays,’YoulayyoursightsanywheresnearTommyan’I’lltakeitan’I’llramitupyourass,’Isays.Scairt’im,too."
Granma,notfollowingtheconversation,bleated,"Pu-raiseGawdfurvittory."
GrampawalkedupandslappedTomonthechest,andhiseyesgrinnedwithaffectionandpride."Howareya,Tommy?"
"O.K.,"saidTom."Howyakeepin’yaself?"
"Fullapissan’vinegar,"saidGrampa.Hismindjumped."Jus’likeIsaid,theyain’tagonnakeepnoJoadinjail.Isays,’Tommy’llcomea-bustin’outathatjaillikeabullthroughacorralfence.’An’youdoneit.Getoutamyway,I’mhungry."Hecrowdedpast,satdown,loadedhisplatewithporkandtwobigbiscuitsandpouredthethickgravyoverthewholemess,andbeforetheotherscouldgetin,Grampa’smouthwasfull.
Tomgrinnedaffectionatelyathim."Ain’theaheller?"hesaid.AndGrampa’smouthwassofullthathecouldn’tevensplutter,buthismeanlittleeyessmiled,andhenoddedhisheadviolently.
Granmasaidproudly,"Awicketer,cussin’ermanneverlived.He’sgoin’tohellonapoker,praiseGawd!Wantstodrivethetruck!"shesaidspitefully."Well,heain’tgoin’ta."
Grampachoked,andamouthfulofpastesprayedintohislap,andhecoughedweakly.
