re both impatient and curious, got to poke into everything. As
long as there's a bone on the floor, the two of you worry it."

Mr. Palumbo comes back to the shop then, and Tom gets busy with the
plants. I go home, wondering if I really am at all like Pop. I never
thought of it before.

It's funny about fights. Pop and I can go along real smooth and easy for a
while, and I think: Well, he really isn't a bad guy, and I'm growing up,
we can see eye to eye--all that stuff. Then, whoosh! I hardly know what
starts it, but a fight boils up, and we're both breathing fire like
dragons on the loose.

We get a holiday Washington's Birthday, which is good because there's a TV
program on Tuesday, the night before the holiday, that I hardly ever get
to watch. It's called _Out Beyond_, and the people in it are very real,
not just good guys and bad guys. There's always one character moving
around, keeping you on the edge of your chair, and by the time it all
winds up in a surprise ending, you find this character is not a real
person, he's supernatural. The program goes on till eleven o'clock, and
Mom won't let me watch it on school nights.

I get the pillows comfortably arranged on the floor, with a big bottle of
soda and a bag of popcorn within easy reach. The story starts off with
some nature shots of a farm and mountains in the background and this
little kid playing with his grandfather. There's a lot of people in it,
but gradually you get more and more suspicious of dear old grandpa. He's
taking the kid for a walk when a thunderstorm blows up.

Right then, of course, we have to have the alternate sponsor. He signs
off, finally, and up comes Pop.

"Here, Davey old boy, we can do better than that tonight. The Governor and
the Mayor are on a TV debate about New York City school reorganization."

At first I figure he's kidding, so I just growl, "Who cares?"

He switches the channel.

I jump up, tipping over the bottle of soda on the way. "Pop, that's not
fair! I'm right in the middle of a program, and I been waiting weeks to
watch it because Mom won't let me on school nights!"

Pop goes right on tuning his channel. "Do you good to listen to a real
program for a change. There'll be another western on tomorrow night."

That's the last straw. I shout, "See? You don't even know what you're
talking about! It's not a western."

Pop looks at me prissily. "You're getting altogether too upset about these
programs. Stop it and behav