"Ponyboy Curtis, put out that cigarette!" "Okay, okay." I put it out. "I ain't going to go to sleep smoking, Darry. If you make me stay in bed there ain't anywhere else I can smoke." "You're not going to die if you don't get a smoke. But if that bed catches on fire you will. You couldn't make it to the door through that mess." "Well, golly, I can't pick it up and Soda doesn't, so I guess that leaves you." He was giving me one of those looks. "All right, all right," I said, "that don't leave you. Maybe Soda'll straighten it up a little." "Maybe you can be a little neater, huh, little buddy?" He'd never called me that before. Soda was the only one he ever called "little buddy." "Sure," I said, "I'll be more careful." The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton 142