"Yeah, that's right," you tell him, "this very stinkhole."
"Well," says Bud. "I believe it's on my property?"
"Your property?" you say. "Uh-uh. This land belongs to my father and his children."
"It belongs to me, Bud Powell. Alone."
"You're wrong," you tell him squarely. "Dead wrong."
"We'll see about
that," says Bud.