"Pa broke in, 'Yeah, ever' night Grampa'd get mad. Tumble over Winfield, an' Winfield'd yell, an' Grampa'd get mad an' wet his drawers, an' that'd make him madder, an' purty soon ever'body in the house'd be yellen' their head off.' His words tumbled out between chuckles. 'Oh, we had lively times. One night when ever'body was yellin' an' a-cussin', your brother Al, he's a smart alek now, he says, "Goddamn it, Grampa, why don't you run off an' be a pirate?" Well, that made Grampa so goddamn mad he went for his gun. Al had ta sleep in the fiel' that night. But now Granma an' Grampa both sleeps in the barn.'
"Ma said, 'They jus' get up an' step outside when they feel like it. Pa, run out on' yell 'em Tommy's home. Grampa's a favorite of him.'
(Chapter 8, pgs 75-76)
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"Across the yard came four people. Grampa was ahead, a lean ragged, quick old man, jumping with quick steps and favoring his right leg--the side that came out of joint. He was buttoning his fly as he came, and his old hands were having trouble finding the buttons, for he had buttoned the top button into the second buttonhole, and that threw the whole sequence off. He wore dark ragged pants and a torn blue shirt, open all the way down, and showing long gray underwear, also unbuttoned. His lean white chest, fuzzed with white hair, was visible through the opening in his underwear. He gave up the fly and left it open and fumbled with the underwear buttons, then gave the whole thing up and hitched his brown suspenders. His was a lean excitable face with little bright eyes as evil as a frantic child's eyes. A cantankerous, complaining, mischievous, laughing face. He fought and argued, told dirty stories. He was as lecherous as always. Vicious and cruel and impatient, like a frantic child, and the whole structure overlaid with amusement. He drank too much when he could get it, ate too much when it was there, talked too much all the time.
(Chapter 8, pgs. 77-78--Audio-Ch.8 Part XI-1:00)
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"Tom grinned affectionately at him. 'Ain't he a heller?' he said. And Grampa's mouth was so full he couldn't even splutter
"Granma said proudly, 'A wicketer, cussin'er man never lived. He's goin' to hell on a poker, praise Gawd! Wants to drive the truck!' she said spitefully. 'Well, he ain't goin' ta.'
(Chapter 8, p. 79--Audio--Ch. 8, Part Xiii--