“Perhaps you mean you are ‘bushed,’” I said.
“Exactly, he said. He had wandered in late Sunday afternoon in one of his favorite shapes, the Falloonian version of a homeless person. In this case, it was the stereotypical long-haired, unshaven character wearing camouflage and a worn field jacket. He knew it offended me—I have told him a number of times that “homeless veterans” primarily exist in the minds of lazy reporters and overzealous do-gooders. Anyway, he looked more idiotic than normal.
“What have you been doing?” I said.
“House hunting,” he said.
“Say what?”
“Looking at houses,” he said. “They allow you to enter some of them on Sunday afternoon and look around.”
“You went looking like that?”
“Of course,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“You look like a …” I struggled for words.
“Homeless person,” he said.
“They let you tour homes?”
“Aren’t the homeless those most in need of housing?”
“Might they also be the least able to afford it?”
He looked puzzled.
“Anyway, they allowed you to tour?”
“They looked at me funny but I went in anyway.”
This didn’t surprise me.
“Know what I saw?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Most of those houses would accommodate dozens of Falloonians. Why are they so large?
“Status symbol I suppose, or some form of compensation.”
“Compensation for what?”
“Never mind,” I said. Then I couldn’t resist a joke. “Did you buy one?”
“No. I asked if I could move 20 or 30 of my colleagues in and they said ‘no.’”
“Oh really?”
“Know what else I saw?”
“I’m all ears.”
“In the bathroom …”
“I can’t imagine.”
“You know those things you people use to dispose of your bodily wastes?”
“Toilets?”
“They called them commodities.”
“No, ‘commodes.’”
“That’s it. Well, this one had a ‘large flush’ and a ‘small flush.’”
“No kidding!”
“They said it was to save water.”
“That makes sense.”
“Well not exactly. When I examined the shower, it had eight nozzles aimed at different body parts. It must have used up the equivalent of 20 additional large-flushes over the consumption of a normal nozzle during a shower. Explain that.”
“I can’t.”
“Know what else?”
“No, what?”
“When they weren’t looking, I sprinkled some bath powder in the solid waste disposal unit.”
 |
| Where's the connection between wealth and taste? - C.W. |
“It took four small-flushes to get rid of it all.”
“For goodness sake.”
“Know what I think?”
“I think you are going to tell me.”
“You people need to learn to think things through a little better.”
Tell CW there is no connection between wealth and taste.
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