Capitolo 31: In in quali Clarence, Stoney ed io dimostro che la quantità di entropia in un sistema chiuso aumenta col passare del tempo

Capitolo 31: In in quali Clarence, Stoney ed io dimostro che la quantità di entropia in un sistema chiuso aumenta col passare del tempo La seguente sig.ra W. ed alcuni di settimana dei suoi amici aveva firmato in su per giocare in un torneo duplicato del ponticello ai giardini di Callaway giù nella Georgia e la mamma del Clarence ancora non aveva rinviato alla città in modo da Stoney ed io slated per prendergli la cura per il fine settimana. La sig.ra W. era poco preoccupato che facessimo qualche cosa di stupido mentre è stata andata ma ha avuta una difficoltà articolare che cosa quello potrebbe essere. Non lo ammetterebbe ma a volte è sembrato come se harbored i sospetti che tutti gli uomini erano capaci di trasformarsi gli idioti sulle brevi informazioni in modo da di lasciare Stoney e me incaricato di Clarence potrei condurre per disturbarmi. Ha andato a circa due che pomeriggio, venerdì. Ha lasciato alcuni problemi per noi sulla lavagna ed esaminandoli a destra prima che andasse ho calcolato che avremmo dovuto collaborare estesamente per lavorare con loro. Ha detto i suoi addii con uno sguardo vago di preoccupazione e gli ha avuta appena piuttosto titubante chiuso le entrate principali, ma d'altra parte appena alcuni secondi più successivamente le ha riaperte ed ha osservato indietro dentro. “Stoney. Ho dimenticato di dirlo che,„ ha detto. “Ho funzionato lungamente ieri nel mio Weezie contiguo. Stavo ottenendo la posta mentre stava camminando il suo cane roccioso. Ha detto che quelle ragazze vi siete incontrato hanno andato indietro a Colquitt.„ “Nadia e Kiki che?„ ha chiesto. “Quel esso. Ha detto la settimana prossima le girate sedici di Nadia ed ha voluto essere domestica prendere la sua prova dell'autorizzazione del driver sul suo compleanno. Pensato lo lascerei sapere. Arrivederci!„ ha fluttuato. “Bummer,„ Stoney ha detto, dopo una pausa. “Sedici,„ ho detto. “Ho sentito. Preferisco crederlo che ci sia stato un certo genere di errore,„ ho detto. “Ci è stato,„ ho detto. “Significo un certo altro genere di errore,„ ha detto. “Che l'altro genere di errore?„ Ho chiesto. “Qualunque altro genere di errore,„ ha detto. “Che cosa l'altro genere di errore potrebbe là essere?„ Ho chiesto. “Possiamo cambiamo l'oggetto?„ ha chiesto. “Un certo genere di errore non-criminale?„ Ho chiesto. “Così Clarence, che cosa lo volete cucinare per il pranzo? La vostra chiamata,„ ha detto. “Perché dobbiamo sempre cucinare?„ Clarence chiesto. “Poiché cucinare fa parte di vita,„ ha detto Stoney. Clarence lo ha esaminato. “Stoney gradice cucinare e gradiciamo mangiare. Chiedagli che cosa i mezzi dello statutory del `di parola,„ io hanno detto. “Possiamo andare a McDonald's?„ Clarence chiesto “No,„ ha detto Stoney. “Perché non?„ Clarence chiesto. “Ci sono solitamente lotti delle ragazze fatte senza aver l'età là, Stoney,„ ho detto. “Il vostro genere di scena.„ “Poiché McDonald's è diabolico,„ Stoney ha detto, ignorandolo. “Malvagità come?„ Clarence chiesto. “Come le yankee sia diabolico,„ Stoney ha detto. “Solo perché qualcosa disegna le grandi folle ed ognuno sa che i loro nomi non diminuisce il loro evilness.„ “Possiamo andare prendiamo una pizza da portar via? 'ha chiesto Clarence. “Impossibile,„ ha detto Stoney. “Perché?„ Ho chiesto. “Poiché non abbiamo birra,„ ha detto, realistico. “Potremmo andare al deposito ottenere una certa birra,„ Clarence suggerito. “Wow,„ ha detto Stoney, schiaffeggiante la sua fronte. “L'eleganza semplice della vostra logica lo ha vinto sopra. Lascilo aumentare la vostra idea di paradigma-spostamento con un altro: poiché stiamo uscendo ottenere comunque Lowenbrau e Henry insisterà sull'azionamento anche se sono completamente sobrio, potremmo anche prendere la salsa di pomodori e merguez e funghi ed acciughe e produrre la nostra propria pizza. Una buona abilità facente fronte per un giovane alla soglia di vita.„ “Non possiamo andare appena selezionamento esso in su a Pizza Hut?„ ha chiesto. “Le ragazze amano un uomo che può cucinare,„ Stoney hanno detto. “Se stiamo andando a Pizza Hut, lascili lo mangiano là,„ ho detto. “Se lo trasportiamo domestico da quello su Hixson Pike sarà freddo per il momento in cui otteniamo indietro. Inoltre, ci potrebbe essere una matricola della High School che blocca il vostro interesse. Le ragazze della High School amano quel posto.„ “Giusto. I suoni di Pizza Hut buoni,„ Stoney hanno detto. “Piccolo compagno, ora abbiamo un programma per il pranzo in modo da il mio cuore è a riposo ma è troppo in anticipo per mangiare così perché mi non mostrate le piante che conosciate nel giardino della vostra zia?„ Ciò lo ha sorpreso. Avevo presupposto che Stoney ed io stavano circa per cominciare lavorare ai problemi la sig.ra W. aveva lasciato sulla lavagna. È stata andata, ma era ancora un giorno di scuola. “Fa caldo come inferno fuori là,„ ho detto. “Da quando siete interessato alla botanica?„ “Il mio compagno qui ha notato una pianta dispari o due nel giardino,„ ha detto. “Gli ho chiesto appena di mostrarlo me.„ “Vestito voi stessi,„ ho detto. Hanno andato. Ho cominciato osservare sopra il primo dei problemi che la sig.ra W. li aveva lasciati. Esso e gli altri, erano tutto affari più a più variabili. Ho cominciato a radunare un metodo a quello primo, quindi il secondo ed il fatto che potrei agire in tal modo da me feltro un piccolo dispari. Alcune settimane fa Stoney mi aveva conosciuto il per la matematica più puro dei lotti ma da questo punto potrei prendere. Forse. Ma ero stato usato a fa parte di una squadra per la risoluzione di problemi ed era stranamente tonificante pensare con qualcosa sui miei propri. Era come mini-rinvia ai miei giorni di fretta dello stagno. Allora era appena me e l'indicazione contro l'universo. Ora era appena me e la matita contro per la matematica. Ho ottenuto la maggior parte delle zone tracciate fuori in mia testa su quella prima e la prima parecchi problemi era così simile che tracciare uno era calcolare fuori come tracciarle tutte, ma d'altra parte ho ottenuto a scribacchiare giù i valori così veloce ho rotto il punto sulla mia matita. Ho osservato intorno ma non ci erano altre matite in modo da mi sono alzato per affilare miei all'affilatrice nell'armadio di corridoio. Sul senso ho passato una finestra con una vista del giardino e sono stato sorpreso vedere Stoney, a piedi nudi, placcato in Levis bell-bottomed bianco, le sue tonalità dell'aviatore e una camicia rossa di I-Zod e Clarence, placcato in brevi tagli, camicia di T a strisce e sua protezione del Braves, entrambi che saltano su e giù, o forse ballanti, dipendendo quanto flessibile la vostra definizione “del dancing„ è, non abbastanza ritmico ma non a caso. Hanno fatto le espressioni vocali difettose occasionale che non hanno trasferito informazioni qualunque. Forse stavano ballando in un cerchio nel giardino. Forse non. Ci era una pianta bassa con i fiori bianchi a che cosa è sembrato essere il punto concentrare del loro cerchio. Dopo circa un minuto di semi-saltare, Stoney ha fatto una pausa nel suo saltare, o nel ballare, quale era, ansimando ed ha illuminato una sigaretta. Clarence si è arrestato allo stesso tempo. Se lo sono esaminato come se non fossero sicuri che cosa è stato supposto per accadere dopo, quindi scrollato le spalle ed ha cominciato a saltare, o ballando, ancora. Questa volta sono sembrato afferrare l'assurdità di che cosa stavano facendolo e goduto ed in modo da stavano saltando più velocemente e stavano saltando più superiore a stavano facendo prima, che soltanto hanno reso loro lo stupider di sguardo. Dopo che alcuni minuti si sono esauriti e sono sprofondato sull'erba, su Stoney ansimanti vigoroso e sudanti molto e su Clarence del giardino forse un piccolo dall'alito. Gioventù. Stoney ha preso una resistenza fuori dalla sua sigaretta, che ha provocato una misura di tosse, ma questa non lo ha incitato a lanciare l'estremità. Lui e Clarence hanno sorriso a vicenda mentre Stoney ha cominciato ad interferire il suo alito. Dopo che alcuni minuti ancora stavano sedendo nel caldo esponga al sole e non facendo niente. Ho ottenuto annoiato, così affilato la mia matita nell'armadio e rinviato ai problemi di calcolo nella sala da pranzo. Forse dieci minuti più successivamente Stoney e Clarence ha rinviato alla casa. Ho sentito che loro aprire il portello posteriore quindi vanno alla cucina e che ho messo il ghiaccio in vetri. Alcuni secondi dopo che sono venuto cercandolo nella sala da pranzo, stanco ma sorridendo. Clarence stava trasportando un vetro di ghiaccio e di una latta di coke. Stoney ha avuto un vetro di ghiaccio, di una latta di coke e di un quinto del rum di Ron Rico. Era marrone, come whisky, che non avevo veduto mai prima. “Che cosa erano voi tipi che fanno fuori nel giardino?„ Ho chiesto. “Ha assomigliato ai tipi bianchi che imitano il treno di anima senza la musica.„ Sia hanno riso un piccolo che incrinato apra le loro latte di soda, cadenti le loro schioccare-parti superiori nel portacenere. “Niente,„ ha detto Stoney. “Preparazione rituale per la datura,„ ha detto Clarence, riempiente il suo vetro di Coca-Cola. “Scusilo?„ Ho chiesto. “Appena scaricando il vapore,„ Stoney ha detto. Stoney ha riempito il suo vetro principalmente in pieno di rum brunastro quindi lo ha superato fuori con un poco coke. “È una cosa di Yaqui,„ ha detto Clarence. “Come mai la vostra sorella smacks voi ogni volta che dite quello?„ Ho chiesto Clarence. “Sembra scoprire che Carlos Castaneda irrita,„ ha detto. “Non sono sicuro perché. Forse perché, come tante pupille, ma diverso del cane del Don Juan, non ha trovato il suo posto.„ “Non voglio andare mi siedo sul portico anteriore, il piccolo compagno,„ ha detto Stoney. “Troppo caldo.„ “Forse il vostro posto è a questa tabella, risolvente i problemi con Henry,„ ha detto Clarence. “Con un grandi grandi rum e coke del ol,„ ha detto Stoney, annuente col capo. Ho mostrato a Stoney che cosa avevo fatto con il primo problema ed allora ha passato a Clarence il cruciverba, il Cryptoquote ed il miscuglio a partire dai tempi di Chattanooga. “Gli originali? La distorsione di velocità,„ ha detto Clarence. Si è comportato come era stato dato un certo privilegio speciale. Ho esaminato Stoney nel puzzlement. “Penso che siate pronto, compagno,„ ha detto a Clarence. “Cambio solitamente il em del `intorno ad un piccolo prima che dia il em del `a Clarence,„ che lui ha detto a me. Clarence ha tirato un cronometro dalla sua camicia. Stava appendendo intorno al suo collo da una parte di cuoio sottile lunga che può originale essere un laccio per scarpe. “Denomini il em del `fuori, il germoglio,„ Stoney ha detto. Clarence ha annuito col capo, perforato il cronometro ed ha ottenuto di funzionare. Ho notato che stava lavorando in inchiostro. Ho esaminato Stoney con un sopracciglio alzato. “Sta andando dirmi che i suoi tempi mentre completa ciascuno,„ Stoney hanno detto. “Dove ha ottenuto un cronometro?„ Ho chiesto. “Lo ho dato lui,„ ha detto. “Dove avete ottenuto un cronometro?„ Gli ho chiesto. “Ho fatto funzionare la pista in High School,„ ha detto. “Avete fatto funzionare la pista?„

Chapter 31: In Which Clarence, Stoney and I Demonstrate that the Amount of Entropy in a Closed System Increases Over Time

The following week Mrs. W. and some of her friends had signed up to play in a duplicate bridge tournament at Callaway Gardens down in Georgia and Clarence’s mom still hadn’t returned to town so Stoney and I were slated to take care of him for the weekend. Mrs. W. was a little worried that we’d do something stupid while she was gone but she had a hard time articulating what that might be. She wouldn’t admit it but it sometimes seemed as though she harbored suspicions that all men were capable of turning into idiots on short notice so leaving Stoney and me in charge of Clarence might lead to trouble.

She left at about two that afternoon, a Friday. She left some problems for us on the blackboard, and looking at them right before she left I figured we’d need to collaborate extensively to work through them. She said her farewells with a vague look of concern and had just somewhat hesitantly closed the front door behind her, but then just a few seconds later she re-opened it and looked back in.

“Stoney. I forgot to tell you,” she said. “I ran into my neighbor Weezie Long yesterday. I was getting the mail while she was walking her dog Rocky. She said those girls you met have gone back to Colquitt.”

“Nadia and Kiki?” he asked.

“That’s it. She said Nadia turns sixteen next week and wanted to be home to take her driver’s license test on her birthday. Thought I’d let you know. Bye!” she waved.

“Bummer,” Stoney said, after a pause.

“Sixteen,” I said.

“I heard. I prefer to believe that there’s been some kind of mistake,” he said.

“There has been,” I said.

“I mean some other kind of mistake,” he said.

“Which other kind of mistake?” I asked.

“Any other kind of mistake,” he said.

“What other kind of mistake could there be?” I asked.

“Can we change the subject?” he asked.

“Some kind of non-criminal mistake?” I asked.

“So Clarence, what do you want me to cook for dinner? Your call,” he said.

“Why do we always have to cook?” asked Clarence.

“Because cooking is part of life,” said Stoney. Clarence looked at me.

“Stoney likes to cook and we like to eat. Ask him what the word ‘statutory’ means,” I said.

“Can we go to McDonald’s?” asked Clarence

“No,” said Stoney.

“Why not?” asked Clarence.

“There are usually lots of underage girls there, Stoney,” I said. “Your kind of scene.”

“Because McDonald’s is evil,” Stoney said, ignoring me.

“Evil how?” asked Clarence.

“Like the Yankees are evil,” Stoney said. “Just because something draws large crowds and everybody knows their names doesn’t diminish their evilness.”

“Can we go pick up a take-out pizza?’ asked Clarence.

“Impossible,” said Stoney.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because we have no beer,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“We could go to the store to get some beer,” suggested Clarence.

“Wow,” said Stoney, slapping his forehead. “The simple elegance of your logic has won me over. Let me enhance your paradigm-shifting idea with another: since we’re going out to get Lowenbrau anyway, and Henry will insist on driving even though I’m completely sober, we could also pick up tomato sauce and pepperoni and mushrooms and anchovies and make our own pizza. A good coping skill for a young man on the threshold of life.”

“Can’t we just go pick it up at Pizza Hut?” he asked.

“Girls love a man who can cook,” Stoney said.

“If we’re going to Pizza Hut, let’s eat it there,” I said. “If we carry it home from the one on Hixson Pike it’ll be cold by the time we get back. Besides, there might be a high school freshman who captures your interest. High school girls love that place.”

“Okay. Pizza Hut sounds good,” Stoney said. “Little buddy, we now have a plan for dinner so my heart is at rest but it’s too early to eat so why don’t you show me the plants you know in your aunt’s garden?” This surprised me. I’d assumed Stoney and I were about to start working on the problems Mrs. W. had left on the blackboard. She was gone, but it was still a school day.

“It’s hot as Hell out there,” I said. “Since when are you interested in botany?”

“My buddy here noticed an odd plant or two in the garden,” he said. “I just asked him to show them to me.”

“Suit yourself,” I said. They left. I started looking over the first of the problems Mrs. W. had left us. It, and the others, were all more multi-variable deals. I began to piece together an approach to the first one, then the second, and the fact that I could do so by myself felt a little odd. A few weeks ago Stoney had known lots more pure math than me but by this point I might have caught up. Maybe. But I’d been used to being part of a problem-solving team, and it was oddly exhilarating to be thinking through something on my own. It was like a mini-return to my pool hustling days. Then it was just me and the cue against the cosmos. Now it was just me and the pencil against Math. I got most of the areas mapped out in my head on the first one, and the first several problems were so similar that mapping one was figuring out how to map them all, but then I got to scribbling down the values so fast I broke the point on my pencil. I looked around but there were no other pencils so I got up to sharpen mine at the sharpener in the hall closet. On the way I passed a window with a view of the garden and was surprised to see Stoney, barefooted, clad in white bell-bottomed Levis, his aviator shades, and a red I-Zod shirt, and Clarence, clad in short cut-offs, a striped tee shirt and his Braves cap, both jumping up and down, or maybe dancing, depending how flexible your definition of “dancing” is, not quite rhythmically but not randomly. They made occasional erratic vocal expressions that conveyed no information whatsoever.

Maybe they were dancing in a circle in the garden. Maybe not. There was a low plant with white flowers at what appeared to be the center point of their circle. After about a minute of semi-leaping, Stoney paused in his leaping, or dancing, whichever it was, panting, and lit a cigarette. Clarence stopped at the same time. They looked at each other as though they weren’t sure what was supposed to happen next, then shrugged and began leaping, or dancing, again. This time they seemed to grasp the absurdity of what they were doing and enjoyed it and so were skipping faster and jumping higher than they’d been doing before, which only made them look stupider. After a few minutes they exhausted themselves and collapsed on the garden grass, Stoney panting mightily and perspiring heavily and Clarence maybe a little out of breath. Youth. Stoney took a drag off his cigarette, which set off a coughing fit, but this did not induce him to pitch the butt. He and Clarence smiled at each other as Stoney began to catch his breath. After a few minutes they were still sitting in the hot sun and doing nothing. I got bored, so sharpened my pencil in the closet and returned to the calculus problems in the dining room. Maybe ten minutes later Stoney and Clarence returned to the house. I heard them open the back door then go to the kitchen and put ice in glasses. A few seconds after that they came looking for me in the dining room, tired but smiling. Clarence was carrying a glass of ice and a can of Coke. Stoney had a glass of ice, a can of coke, and a fifth of Ron Rico rum. It was brown, like whiskey, which I’d never seen before.

“What were you guys doing out in the garden?” I asked. “It looked like white guys imitating Soul Train with no music.” They both laughed a little and cracked open their soda cans, dropping their pop-tops into the ashtray.

“Nothing,” said Stoney.

“Ritual preparation for the Datura,” said Clarence, filling his glass with Coca-Cola.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Just blowing off steam,” Stoney said. Stoney filled his glass mostly full of brownish rum then topped it off with a little Coke.

“It’s a Yaqui thing,” said Clarence.

“How come your sister smacks you every time you say that?” I asked Clarence.

“She seems to find Carlos Castaneda irritating,” he said. “I’m not sure why. Maybe because, like so many pupils, but unlike Don Juan’s dog, she has not found her place.”

“I don’t want to go sit on the front porch, little buddy,” said Stoney. “Too hot.”

“Perhaps your place is at this table, solving problems with Henry,” said Clarence.

“With a great big ol’ rum and Coke,” said Stoney, nodding.

I showed Stoney what I’d done with the first problem, and then he handed Clarence the crossword puzzle, the Cryptoquote, and the Jumble from the Chattanooga Times.

“The originals? Wow,” said Clarence. He acted like he’d been given some special privilege. I looked at Stoney in puzzlement.

“I think you’re ready, buddy,” he said to Clarence. “Usually I change ‘em around a little before I give ‘em to Clarence,” he said to me. Clarence pulled a stopwatch out of his shirt. It was hanging around his neck by a long thin piece of leather that may have originally been a bootlace. “Call ‘em out, bud,” Stoney said. Clarence nodded, punched the stopwatch, and got to work. I noticed he was working in ink. I looked at Stoney with a cocked eyebrow.

“He’s gonna tell me his times as he completes each one,” Stoney said.

“Where did he get a stopwatch?” I asked.

“I gave it to him,” he said.

“Where did you get a stopwatch?” I asked him.

“I ran track in high school,” he said.

“You ran track?” I asked, surprised.

“Sure. I believe I still hold the Lawrenceville record for best time on the 440 . I was also the anchor leg of our mile relay team.”

“When did you start smoking?” I asked.

“At thirteen. And you’re right, that’s why I wasn’t a miler in high school.”

“Cross-country?” I asked.

“Oh, Christ, no,” said Stoney.

“Fifty-two!” sang out Clarence.

“That’s great, buddy!” Stoney said. I looked at Stoney in puzzlement. “He just did the Jumble in 52 seconds. That’s great. Anything better than a minute is pretty commendable.” My own best time on the Chattanooga Times Jumble puzzle was 45 seconds. I looked at Stoney with an inquisitive expression.

“Cryptoquote next?” I asked.

“Of course .”

“What time are we looking for on the Cryptoquote?” I asked.

“He usually does it in less than eleven minutes,” Stoney answered. He looked at what I’d done on the multi-variable non-planar problem and didn’t say anything. He nodded a few times and circled a few things he wanted to ask about, then looked up. My own best time on the Cryptoquote was a few seconds over two minutes, and I generally did it in about six minutes, so I felt good about myself. Stoney finished looking over my calculations and looked up. “Actually, Clarence always does better than eleven minutes. Eleven is his outside. I’d take the under on that bet. He’s usually in the six to eight range.”

“Damn! That’s good. What’s your time like?” I asked. Stoney remembered he had a drink and drained it, then poured in, again, a massive amount of rum and a little Coke.

“I don’t know,” Stoney said. “I never saw a Cryptoquote before I came here, and I do them while I’m cooking breakfast, so I don’t really time them, and if I did, the times wouldn’t be, like, accurate, because I’m looking at breakfast most of the time. I’ve been trying to get to where I can solve them in my head. You know, like those guys do who play chess without a board? I’ve always thought that was so cool. So today I could do the Jumble and the Cryptoquote in my head, and a lot of the crossword, but I couldn’t do the whole crossword in my head. So I don’t know.” He asked me a few questions about steps I’d taken on Mrs. W.’s problem and nodded as I explained what I had done. He stared at one step, then exclaimed “Fuckadoodledoo!” and began scribbling furiously on his pad. “I got this!”

“Six minutes and 23 seconds!” Clarence called out.

“Good time, buddy,” said Stoney. It was a good time. I generally did better than that, but damn. “What’s got you so excited on the multi-variable?” I asked Stoney.

“Hang on,” he said, and returned to scribbling. “Ah, shit,” he said, after a few minutes, disappointed.

“What?” I asked. Clarence, focused on his crossword puzzle, paid us no mind.

“Yeah, well, I thought I’d found this great insight into this fucking equation and so I tore off into this magnificent, elegant solution that took fifteen steps and basically just proves your step four. So I agree with you. Fuck. It’s possible that you may have noticed that I like to be the clever one but all I’ve done this time is prove you right. A bitter tear to swallow. Perhaps some more Ron Rico will ease my troubled soul.”

“Don’t you mean a bitter pill?” I asked.

“What kind of pill are you suggesting I take?”

“I’m not.”

“Hmm. What kind do you have?” he asked.

“None,” I said.

“Then why did you divert conversation, teasingly and unsatisfyingly, into the topic of pills? Surely you know how cruel it is to get a man’s hopes up like that.”

“Five thirty-two!” said Clarence.

“Excellent, little buddy!” said Stoney.

“On the crossword?” I asked.

“Yep!” he said, proudly. Good time. I tried to beat six minutes every day, which he’d done. And he was an obnoxious ten year-old. So how smart was I?

“Well, in Dr. W’s absence we still need to watch the news,” Stoney said. We all agreed, so they grabbed their beverages and we all dutifully filed into the living room to watch the news. We went with Peter Jennings, and in Mrs. W.'s absence our commentary on the current administration’s activities were perhaps a little more raucous and crude than usual. None of us could have been entirely sure what Mrs. W’s politics were, though. She usually seemed to approve of Dems and disapprove of Repubs, but it was hard to tell. Stoney and Clarence were clearly Democrats and assumed Mrs. W. was as well, but she was critical of Dems as often as she was of Repubs. I’d never thought much about politics until that summer, but at that time particular point in time the main difference between Democrats and Republicans was that more Republicans were either in jail or on their way to jail than Democrats. But back then I really didn’t understand politics.

“Which one is Stans again?” Stoney asked. The level of the rum bottle was dropping pretty fast, and he was still on his first Coke.

He looked at me for an answer to the Stans question and I shrugged. Couldn’t tell you. Without Mrs. W., we were rudderless. He looked at Clarence.

“He’s an accountant. He was secretary of something. Maybe Secretary of Commercials. Resigned to become some big deal. Put money in a flush fund. Or was it a slush fund?”

“Slush. Under indictment?” asked Stoney.

“Yeah, sure. Perjury and obstruction of justice,” Clarence answered. Stoney nodded as the news came back on. Clarence understood most of it, and Stoney had a general idea of what was going on, but it didn’t make much sense to me. Something was up with New York’s budget. Wholesale costs were up. Stoney made yet another rum and Coke. There was more trouble with tapes in the Watergate deal. Same old daily news routine, but it wasn’t the same without Mrs. W.

After the news we went to Pizza Hut. It was the same as the last time I’d been there. Anchovies still weren’t on the menu. Stoney ordered a pitcher of Schlitz. The waitress, a pretty teenager who did not look old enough to work in a bar, assumed our beverage order was complete and left immediately, returning a few minutes later with the pitcher and three glasses, one for each of us. I asked for water, and she left immediately again. After she left Clarence redirected his earnest, intense stare from her tight, low-cut pink tank top to stare, not quite as intensely, at the pitcher. He nonchalantly took one of the three glasses and placed it close to himself, as though no one would notice. The waitress returned a few seconds later with my water and Clarence returned his appreciative gaze to her tank top, although he was not so captivated with her breasts that he didn’t try to nonchalantly reach for the pitcher as Stoney put it down. I batted his hand away, and he looked deflated but not surprised. “Could you bring him a Sprite, please?” I asked.

“Sprite? Why do I have to drink Sprite?” he demanded.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Coke, please,” he said to the waitress’ breasts.

“Caffeine is bad for you,” I said.

“What?” said Clarence, Stoney and the waitress, all at once.

“It will stunt your growth,” I said to Clarence. Clarence looked at me as he might look at someone who was providing how-to advice from the Dark Ages.

“Coke, please,” he said to the waitress’ breasts again, whereupon she smiled and disappeared.

She returned within a few seconds with his Coke, and we ordered. We each ordered an entire pizza for ourselves, roughly twice as much food as we needed. I ordered pepperoni, black olives, mushrooms, and sausage. Stoney’s was some similar combination of standard pizza ingredients, but then Clarence asked for ham and pineapple on his, neither of which belonged on a pizza. I looked at the waitress in horror.

“That’s allowed?” I asked.

“Called a Hawaiian,” she said, nodding.

“What’s next, broccoli pizza?” I said.

“We can do that!” she said. “It’s not on the menu, but they have broccoli back there for some kind of salad nobody ever orders so they can put it on a pizza if you want.”

“No!” I said.

“Yeah, we can,” she said. “My friend Margo comes in Saturdays after she gets off at Penny’s and orders a white pizza with anchovies and broccoli.” Stoney and I both picked up our menus.

“That actually sounds pretty good,” Stoney said.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Stoney!” I said. “Broccoli on pizza?”

“You said the same thing about Clarence’s Hawaiian deal,” said Stoney. “I’ve had it and it’s not so awful. Query whether heavy tomato sauce and/or olive oil work with pineapple under any circumstances, but I didn’t gag. Now that I think about it, mine was prosciutto, not American ham, and I don’t mean to be elitist but that may matter. I still don’t see anchovies on the menu,” he said.

“They’re not, because people, like, think they’re gross, and they make, like, these waaaay inappropriate references to what they taste like, but they have some back there, if you want them. Sardines, too,” she said.

“No, no, no. Sardines is just wrong,” said Stoney. “But I’m changing my order to a white pizza with broccoli and anchovies. How could I resist? Heavy on both.”

“You worry me, man,” I said.

“Do you want to change your order?” she asked me.

“I want to add anchovies as a fourth ingredient,” I said.

“Fifth,” she said. “You already have pepperoni, sausage, black olives, and mushrooms. Do you want to take one off?”

“No, no,” I said. “I’ll have a five topping pizza.” She smiled, flipped her order pad shut, and left. Stoney refilled his beer glass for maybe the third or fourth time since she’d brought the pitcher and drank off about a third of it in one gulp.

“She’s pretty cute,” said Clarence.

“Stoney, tell him to stop ogling girls,” I said. Stoney looked confused.

“Why?” he asked.

“Mrs. W. thinks his way of staring at girls is too obvious,” I said. “I told her I’d explain it to you and that you’d explain it to him,” I said.

“This approach seems indirect,” he said. Clarence, oblivious, was staring at some high school girls at a nearby table.

“He ignores me and he listens to you,” I said.

“That’s prob’ly true,” Stoney admitted. “Okay, little buddy, lets talk about girls,” he said.

“Cool,” said Clarence.

“Okay, so girls all want you to think you’re interested in them,” said Stoney.

“And I am!” said Clarence. “Particularly girls with big hooters!”

“They want you to be interested in what they think,” said Stoney.

“What?” asked Clarence, confused.

“Girls all want you to be interested in what they’re thinking about,” he said.

“Can’t be,” he said.

“Is,” said Stoney.

“No, really. They’re always talking about David Cassidy and Donnie Osmond. David Carradine. Hair and fingernails. What kind of shoes Belinda is wearing. Nobody could be interested in that kind of stuff. If they wanted people to be interested in what they were thinking they’d talk about Viet Nam and Watergate and say they voted for McGovern.” There was a pause while Stoney lit a cigarette.

“David Cassidy? Donnie Osmond? Don’t know those guys,” said Stoney, and then he paused again. “Singers?” he guessed.

“Donnie Osmond is the little brother of those twerps who used to be on The Andy Williams Show,” I said. Stoney frowned.

“Don’t remember them. What did they do?” he asked.

“Sang. Smiled. Climbed ladders. Wore sweaters.” He shook his head dismissively.

“David Carradine?” Stoney asked.

“He’s this Kung Fu guy who wanders around the Old West. He’s actually pretty cool,” said Clarence. “I just think it’s weird that these girls in my school are all crazy about a guy who’s two or maybe three times their age.” There was a pause in which Clarence looked back and forth between Stoney and me.

“How old?” Stoney asked.

“He’s at least in his twenties,” said Clarence.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He said ‘Old West,” Stoney said. “How old?”

“I’d guess Civil War era,” I said. Clarence nodded.

“And the actor playing him is named Carradine?” Stoney asked.

“Yep,” Clarence and I both said.

“So there was a round-eye who knew Kung Fu in the 1860s?” he asked. There was a pause while Clarence and I thought about this

“Well, they play him as Chinese,” I said.

“Totally,” said Clarence.

“They cast somebody named Carradine as a Chinese guy?” asked Stoney. Clarence and I thought.

“Well, yeah,” we said.

“And you guys watch this?” Stoney asked.

“It’s not quite as stupid as it sounds,” I said.

“It’s totally cool,” said Clarence. Stoney seemed mystified.

“But he’s a round-eye?” Stoney asked.

“What?” asked Clarence.

“‘Round-eye’ is Asian slang for ‘Westerner,’” I said. Clarence still looked confused. “It means non-Asian. Stoney’s not sure an American was a convincing cast as an Asian martial artist.” Clarence shook his head. This had never occurred to him before.

Our pizza came and we all partook. Conversation immediately turned to baseball, but then I realized I hadn’t finished one of Mrs. W.’s assignments.

“We never finished explaining to Clarence why he can’t stare at breasts,” I said, in the middle of my second slice. “She generally asks me about homework problems.”

“Oh right, said Stoney, wolfing down his third slice of white and green pizza and washing it down with a large swallow of beer. “Ok, so buddy, there are some things you need to know about girls.”

“Okay,” said Clarence who, hoping no one would notice, had nonchalantly taken a beer glass and was reaching for Stoney’s pitcher. Stoney didn’t react, so I smacked him on the back of the head. “Ow!” said Clarence.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded, glaring.

“Keeping you away from the beer,” I said. “Your Aunt Margaret wouldn’t approve.”

“No, I mean smacking me in the head like that!” he said, unhappily.

“Your sister does that all the time,” I said.

“Not that hard,” he complained.

Stoney refilled his beer and looked contemplative. “So we,” he began, then paused, “by which I mean us men, are not supposed to look directly at women’s breasts even though those particular body parts are of exceedingly keen interest to almost all of us. Men, I mean . But even though we’re are all really, really interested in breasts, and women all know we’re all really, really interested in their breasts, we’re not supposed to let on. I honestly don’t know why this is, but assure you it is so. We’re not supposed to ever let them catch us looking at them, even though hey know we do whenever we can. Often times they want us to do so. It’s weird. Inexplicable, even. But that’s how it goes.”

Clarence scowled.

“What is it, little buddy?” asked Stoney. Clarence pondered for a minute.

“It’s just weird,” said Clarence.

“I agree. But what exactly do you have in mind, little buddy?” Stoney asked.

“It just seems that they’re proud of them,” said Clarence.

“Of what?” asked Stoney.

“Of their hooters,” said Clarence.

“Yes, of course they are,” said Stoney.

“So if they’re proud they have them, and they know we like them, why am I not supposed to look at them?” asked Clarence. “I’m just liking something they’re proud of already.”

“They jus don’t like it when you stare at them,” answered Stoney.

“This is weird,” said Clarence.

“No, no,” said Stoney. “If you want to touch one you can’t be caught drooling over it,” he said. “I think that’s the only rule. Simple.”

“You know, your Aunt Margaret would have a different take on this,” I said.

“How so?” both Stoney and Clarence asked.

“She might say that staring at a woman’s breasts is rude because it will make her feel uncomfortable, and manners requires that we do what we can to avoid making those around us feel ill at ease,” I said. “She also might mention that reducing a woman to an object of sexual interest demeans her in a way you do not understand.”

Stoney and Clarence looked at each other and shook their heads.

“That’s not the way the issue presents itself,” said Stoney. Clarence nodded in agreement.

“How so?” I asked.

“Okay, man,” said Stoney. “So hypothetically, say this really attractive waitress with really nice knockers who’s wearing a tiny, thin pink tank top happens to be serving Clarence his pizza. Her hooters are pretty much on display. He can’t glance at them? I think that’s the point Clarence ha trouble with.” Stoney managed to consume another slice of broccoli anchovy pizza in three bites.

“Not when she can tell,” I said. “It would be bad manners.”

“If she’s putting them out there where I can see, why can’t I look?” Clarence asked.

“She’s probably not much interested in you, Clarence. Even if she’s advertising, she’s advertising for somebody, she’s not advertising for everybody.” Stoney and Clarence frowned at me but neither said anything. “Okay,” I said. “Just imagine for a minute that you’re a really pretty girl.”

“Cool. I love this kind of deal,” said Stoney. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Clarence tried to imitate him but was opening his right eye every few seconds to see what Stoney was doing. I really hadn’t anticipated this response. I was just trying to make a point. “So I’m a really pretty girl,” said Stoney. “Do I have really nice hooters?”

“Stoney,” I said.

“No, really, Stoney said, “what about my hooters?”

“They’re fine,” I said.

“Large and firm?” he asked.

“Stoney, this angle really wasn’t my point.”

“But I’m wearing a tight pink tank top?”

“Look, the idea of all manners is that you don’t want to make anyone else feel uncomfortable,” I said to Clarence.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.” I answered. Stoney gave up his reverie and refilled his glass. Clarence nonchalantly pushed his glass forward as if to be refilled, too. Stoney moved as if to refill it and I waved him off. Clarence sighed.

“It’s just not right,” Clarence said.

“How so?” I asked.

“With my real friends, the most fun thing in the world is to make them as uncomfortable as possible,” said Clarence.

“How so?” I asked.

“You know. Standard kid stuff. Kick them in the nuts. Blow snot on their book reports. Fart in their faces. Put dog shit in their lunch bags. You know, just stuff.”

“And?” I asked.

“And there’s this whole other deal I have to do for girls?”

“Yep,” I said. “It’s not just for girls, though. There’s this whole manners deal that applies to everyone who’s not a ten year-old boy. Grownups. Teachers and parents especially.”

“You agree with this?” Clarence asked Stoney. Stoney was re-filling his beer glass for the umpteenth time and Clarence tipped his glass forward expectantly. This time Stoney either didn’t see or ignored him.

“Sort of,” he said. “Um, I may not be the best guy to ask, because I grew up in all-male prep schools. And I’m not sure about some of what Henry just said. I mean, it made sense when he was saying it, but if we have the same standard of behavior for parents and teachers that we do for girls, I think the world will be a dreary place in which to live. So I can’t explain with any rationality why I think Henry’s wrong, I certainly hope he is.” Stoney poured the last of the Schlitz into his glass forlornly

“Nah, he’s not right. Nadia was nothing like my mother,” said Clarence.

“Who’d want a girlfriend like a mother, anyway?” Stoney asked. They clinked their glasses together and looked at me as though they’d just won a point.

Stoney paid for dinner, which was nice. We had ordered way too much pizza, so each of us went home with a box.