Rose set Pasquale on her knee and bounced him and told him about the things they were passing. When there was nothing else to do they played a game by choosing a cloud and making the other two guess what shape it suggested. Pasquale took one the shape of a spaceship and Jimbo guessed a pirate ship and Rose said, no, a motorcycle. Pasquale didn't hear them because the shape of the spaceship reminded him of his dream ship, and he was fast asleep, flying about in it. Eventually, he hit the brake, in reality the basket, and Peekaboo, the cat, sprang onto Jimbo's shoulder.
Rose and Pasquale were thrown out the door onto the ground. The car turned over once and landed right-side-up in a gulch off the side of the road. Ever the captain of his ship, Jimbo remained in the driver's seat with the cat clinging to his shoulder like a parrot.
As soon as Pasquale woke up and saw he could move his arms and legs, he shouted, "We've had an ACCIDENT!" Jimbo and Rose sat down in the ditch to recover from the excitement.
"Maybe a car will come along," said Rose, wishing she were a motorcycle mama.
In a few minutes Jimbo saw a car some distance away. Rose stood up and waved both arms dramatically to attract attention. The car continued to come on slowly, disappeared around a bend and appeared again, moving even slower. It was a big black battered hearselike automobile. It came to a stop just over them. The driver got out of the car and stood by the side of it, looking down at them. He was holding a black hat and a gun.
"Good afternoon," he said. "I see you all had you a little spill."
"We've had an ACCIDENT!" Pasquale screamed.
"Lady," the gunman said to Rose, "children make me nervous. Would you mind your husband and your son stepping back in them woods there with me?"
"Look, a nature trail!" Jimbo observed, and he and Pasquale wandered into the woods.
"Where are you taking them?" Rose screamed.
There was a pistol shot from the woods, followed closely by another. Then silence. Rose's head jerked around.
"Does it seem right to you, lady, to go twenty-two years in the funnies without never oncet being funny?"
"I need to lean against my 'let it be' tree," Rose moaned, and she collapsed onto him. He sprang back as if a snake had bitten him and shot her three times through the chest.
"She would of been a good woman," he said, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."
Then something strange happened: a beach ball, a candy cane, a rainbow, and a sunburst appeared around his head, and he smiled.
"It is real pleasure in life!"