"If the joke is funny, then you don't have to laugh. Because a man telling a funny story is not a fool. Oh, you can laugh if you want to; no law against it. But you don't have to. The funny man, he doesn't need you laughter." Around and around went the pickle in the air, circling high, swooping down, suddenly pointing straight at the boy, who stopped in mid-bite, eyes and mouth wide. "I see a rich man with a limp and I think, my, what an expensive cane he uses. I see a poor man with a limp, and I think, oh, how that must hurt." The pickle was swooping again. The boy gobbled the remainder of the sandwich. Then the pickle was back on him, and he froze. "I see a pretty woman weeping and I say, 'How pretty!' When an ugly woman weeps, I say, 'How sad!' The winners of this world, they can adjust their own laurel wreaths. The losers go bareheaded. The winners only need a mirror; the losers need your laughter. "Vegetable," he said to the boy, who was back by the canned-soup shelf.