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Chapter 2
Thedriversaid,«Well—thatain’tnoneofmybusiness.Iain’tanosyguy.»
«Thehellyouain’t,"saidJoad.«Thatbigoldnoseofyoursbeenstickin’outeightmilesaheadofyourface.Youhadthatbignosegoin’overmelikeasheepinavegetablepatch.»
Thedriver’sfacetightened.«Yougotmeallwrong—"hebeganweakly.
Joadlaughedathim.«Youbeenagoodguy.Yougivemealift.Well,hell!Idonetime.Sowhat!YouwanttoknowwhatIdonetimefor,don’tyou?»
«Thatain’tnoneofmyaffair.»
«Nothin’ain’tnoneofyouraffairexceptskinnin’thisherebull-bitchalong,an’that’stheleastthingyouworkat.Nowlook.Seethatroadupahead?»
«Yeah.»
«Well,Igetoffthere.Sure,Iknowyou’rewettin’yourpantstoknowwhatIdone.Iain’taguytoletyoudown.»Thehighhumofthemotordulledandthesongofthetiresdroppedinpitch.Joadgotouthispintandtookanothershortdrink.Thetruckdriftedtoastopwhereadirtroadopenedatrightanglestothehighway.Joadgotoutandstoodbesidethecabwindow.Theverticalexhaustpipeputteredupitsbarelyvisiblebluesmoke.Joadleanedtowardthedriver.«Homicide,"hesaidquickly.«That’sabigword—meansIkilledaguy.Sevenyears.I’msprunginfourforkeepin’mynoseclean.»
Thedriver’seyesslippedoverJoad’sfacetomemorizeit.«Ineveraskedyounothin’aboutit,"hesaid.«Imindmyownyard.»
«YoucantellaboutitineveryjointfromheretoTexola.»Hesmiled.«Solong,fella.
