The streets were full of insane and dull people. Most of them lived in nice houses and didn’t seem to work, and you wondered how they did it. There was one guy who wouldn’t let you put the mail in his box. He’d stand in the driveway and watch you coming for two or three blocks and he’d stand there and hold his hand out. I asked some of the others who had carried the route: “What’s wrong with that guy who stands there and holds his hand out?” “What guy who stands there and holds his hand out?” they asked. They all had the same voice too.