"But--but that's ridiculous, Hank. You can't know--"
"I do know, Jim. Afore I met Helen, I never worried none about the
future, let every day take care of itself. But when we planned on
gettin' hitched, I started figgerin' out the logical results, the
results that _had_ to be, by natcheral cause an' effect--"
He shrugged. "An' that's the answer. So it's better to never start the
chain that'd make us all unhappy."
He held out a bronzed paw. "It's been nice knowin' you, Jim. You come
visit me once in a while, will you? An' if you ever get in a jam an' I
can help, just say the word."
I said, "So you mean it, then? The world offers you everything--fame,
money, glory, love--and you're going to stay here in this--this cheesy
little old turnip patch!"
"Don't say that, Jim!" said Hank swiftly. "This is the best place in
the world for me. 'Cause I'm too durn logical. An' this is the one
place where I'm at a disadvantage."
"What," I asked, wondering, "do you mean?"
He shook his head, dolefully this time.
"Turnips!" said Horse-sense Hank. "Everything else in the whole wide
world I can figger the results of. But turnips is hell. It don't matter
where you plant 'em or what you try, they don't never do what you
expect 'em to."