303. Diplomacy

“Well I think it’s about time we did something about it.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” C.W. said. “Something.”

“Like what?”

“Anything to stop her.”

“Stop her from what?”

“Whatever she does.”

Oh dear. He and my wife were having another spat—something about leaving dirty dishes in the sink. She actually made him wash some of them and he hates to get his hands wet, claims it is some sort of Falloonian taboo. After she told him where he could put his taboo, things escalated. He immediately assumed the form of that political candidate, the crazy one from Texas. Well then, the crazy one from Texas that makes stuff up as it suits him. No, the other crazy one that makes stuff up. The one who wants to re-institute the draft and invade any country that aggravates us. No, the crazy, lying, warmonger that hates the government and wasn’t ever born in the U.S.A. Yeah, that one.

“We’ll fix her vehicle used for transporting goods or another specified purpose.”

“You don’t,” I said, “need to fix her wagon.”

“I’ll dust her with Falloonian guddramadan dust and make her glow in the dark.”

“Why don’t you just abide by the rules?”

“I graduated from Harvard Law School,” he said. “We don’t abide by the rules. We make them.”

“Why not just sit down and talk to her. You know … discuss things calmly.”

“I tried,” he said. “She wouldn’t listen to me.”

“What did she have to say?”

“Why should I have let her say anything?” he said. “She’s a woman.”

“You wouldn’t apologize, would you?”

He just looked at me.

“Maybe compromise?” I said.

“Do I look like a sissy to you?”

“Try to look at it from her side,” I said. “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“A real man doesn’t change his mind.”

“Jesus did.”

“Not,” he said.

“Don’t you remember the Canaanite woman? He compared her to a dog, but she changed his mind and, some say, his entire ministry.”

“That was Jesus,” he said. “You’d expect that from one of those Middle-Easterners.”

“She’s really a nice person if you abide by her rules,” I said.

“Like you do?”

“I slip occasionally.”

“And then?”

“We engage in diplomacy.”

“Meaning you grovel and say you’re sorry.”

“Why don’t you give her a chance?”

“Because,” he said, “I love America too much.”

“You love America?”

“With all my heart and soul.”

“You are a patriot?”

“I took an oath when I was first elected and I’ll not budge from it one centimeter. And that includes apologizing for anything.”

“You love America?”

“Above anything.”

“So maybe you could impress her with your love of country, your patriotism and all.”



He stopped and thought. “Hey,” he said. “Maybe that’s a good idea. I’ll show her that bending to my will would make her a true patriot like me.”

“As John Agar used to say in the science fiction movies,” I said, “it just might work. Why don’t you think on it tonight and try it out first thing in the morning?”

 

He referred to his little slave children
as his "ebony mites." How could we
not celebrate the birthday of a man with
such a sense of humor? - C.W.

“Oh,” he said, “I can’t do it tomorrow.”
 

“Why not?”

“Tomorrow we celebrate Robert E. Lee’s birthday. I’m scheduled to speak to The Sons of The Confederacy.”

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