It was the third of June.

{knock knock}
"Why, Billie Joe, I do declare. Come on in. Take a chair.... Uh... How are you?"
"Very well, thanks--though from its tone your quaery would appear to be other than a mere social pleasantry seeming--as it does to me--to be fraught with an unwonted concern I might be otherwise. Hmm?"
"Well, uh, since you ask, er, um... I had heard incidentally that you had, that is to say you may have... I might say, flung--yourself from--from the bridge... the uh..."
"the...?"
"yes, the Tallahatchie Bridge... you're smiling. Why?"
"Ho, ho, ho. Indeed... Yes, I did plummet from a certain venerable edifice spanning that incongruously named body of water-- directly into said body of water, I might add. Indeed, as I say, into the deepest part. Though, I must say, not deep enough to save my feet to the ankle from being plunged into the cool muck on the bottom... albeit to my great delight."
"But... then... your suici--"
"Greatly exaggerated, yes. Gosh, the Tallahatchie bridge is not exactly Mississippi's Golden Gate. It can't be six meters from deck to water's surface. Honestly. It was a lark"
"Ah. Of course. But then, you never did have a lick o sense, Billie Joe McAllister. Have some cake?"
"{Roaring} Ho, ho, ho, ho. Guilty as charged, my friend. And yes, indeed. I don't mind if I do."

{later}

"Um, it's just that, you know, after our throwing that thing off the bridge... you know, the..."
"Ah. I had forgotten about that. Yes, I can see now why you might have been concerned, and for that I certainly do apologize."