What had savor was the idea of going to the door behind which his reluctant host was imprisoned and yelling: “I fixed you, didn’t I? I fixed your little red wagon, didn’t I?”
What had savor was the idea of going to the door behind which his reluctant host was imprisoned and yelling: “I fixed you, didn’t I? I fixed your little red wagon, didn’t I?” What a wagon, red or otherwise, had to do with any of this Mr. Gray didn’t know, but it was an emotional bullet of fairly high caliber from Jonesy’s armory—it had a deep and satisfying childhood resonance. And then he would stick Jonesy’s tongue (my tongue now, Mr. Gray thought with undeniable satisfaction) between Jonesy’s lips and “give him the old raspberry.”
As for the followers, he wanted to drop Jonesy’s pants and show them Jonesy’s buttocks. This was as senseless as What goes around comes around, as senseless as little red wagon, but he wanted to do it.
