“What are we going to have for lunch?” Pee-wee wanted to know. “I’d make some angel cake if I only had some angels,” I told him. “How about spaghetti and rice pudding? Only we haven’t got any cream.” Oh boy, it was nice sitting around eating lunch. I know how to make dandy spaghetti. You have to have a can of tomatoes and you pour them over it. Once I flavored it with chocolate but it wasn’t any good, but licorice isn’t so bad. Once I used a lot of long strings of licorice that they call shoe strings--you get them three for a cent--I used them instead of spaghetti. Only tomato sauce doesn’t go good with it. Black spaghetti, that’s what we called it. It was only just an experiment--experiments are all right as long as you don’t eat them. “I can eat experiments or anything,” Pee-wee said. Sandy said he’d like to be in Italy where the spaghetti grows. You could just go out in the fields and pick it, that’s what he said. “Do they plant it in grated cheese or just in the earth?” I asked him. He said, “They plant it in the earth and they call it wop-weed over there.” I said, “Well, that’s news to me, I never knew where spaghetti came from.” “Well, anyway, we know where it goes to,” Dub said. “Sure,” I told him, “but I never knew it grows just the same as macaroni.” “You’re crazy!” Pee-wee shouted. He was trying to keep some spaghetti from wriggling away from his mouth. “Hold your mouth up in the air and eat it by the attraction of gravitation,” I told him. “Spaghettidoesngrow,” he said. “Explain all that,” I told him. “Here, have some more.” “Are we going down to the other end of the chasm to see those movie people this afternoon?” Sandy wanted to know. I said, “Sure, we positively are, and I’ve got an idea. It’s an inspiration, accent on the third syllable. _Look at Pee-wee!_” all of a sudden I said. “He should use sandpaper to hold spaghetti--this is terrible.” Honest, I wish you could have seen that kid. He was trying to shovel spaghetti into his mouth and it was slipping every which way. “Take some salt in your hand so it won’t skid,” I told him. “Whatsthinspiration?” he managed to get out. “Go into second and don’t jam your brakes on too hard and you’ll make it,” Sandy told him. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t speak for a couple of minutes--seeing Pee-wee eat spaghetti. I said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get any rough spaghetti but it’s very expensive.” “How about the inspiration?” Dub wanted to know. “This expedition is getting worse and worse.” “Yes, and even he’ll write it up in a book and expect fellers to read it,” Pee-wee said. “It will sound all right as long as they don’t read too hard,” I said. “You read a book too hard and you spoil it--I’ll leave it to Sandy. That’s what knocks the back covers off most books.” “This one will be the worst of any of them,” the kid said.