“Do you think I might obtain permanent status through this
so-called ‘Dream Act’ if I applied?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“First, you aren’t a human.”
“And you think this Gudamfulian in your White House is?”
“What? Do I think our president is human?”
“Do you actually think that Falloonia is the only planet
that has observers on your planet?”
“Uh, well, I hadn’t thought about it. I’ve always had my
hands full with you.”
Right Head and Left Head both looked at Middle Head, who
laughed. “Some civilizations just have a better sense of humor. So what about this Dream Act
thing? Will it work for me?”
“I don’t think so. You would have had to come here as a
child.”
“Wait one,” said Right Head, and they left the room. As they
did, Left Head muttered, “We’ll show that Phukeenazoal.”
“I heard that,” I said, yelling it after him. C.W. and I had
been sitting around talking and he hadn’t chosen a shape for the day. At last
account, he was torn between a physics professor and a welder’s apprentice. As
it turned out, he changed directions completely. Reggie the Young Conservative
walked back into the room.
I frowned. “You’re going to ask for amnesty in that shape?”
“It’s not my fault I’m here,” he said.
“No?”
“No. The Mother Ship dropped me off at boarding school and
they forgot all about me. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
“I think I would leave out the part about the Mother Ship.”
“How about my mother was an ambassador from somewhere or
other?”
I thought, then said, “Come to think of it, ‘that just might
get the job done,’ as the dentist said when he took the crowbar in his hand.” I was feeling a little Dickensean this morning.
“This is no time for humor or frivolity, especially the
treatment of a serious matter with humor or in a manner lacking due respect.”
“I assume that you mean it is no time for levity?”
“There you go again, repeating things I say."
I took on my most serious look. “They will do a background
check, you know.”
That stopped him. He thought and said, “You don’t suppose
Mrs. Middleton would … ”?
“No,” I said, “she dropped the charges after you replaced
her ‘Hillary’ sign.”
'
“What about that Dunkum man?”
“I don’t think he ever figured out for sure that you donated
money in his name to your party.”
“Perry?”
“He still thinks I’m the one who sent him the CD of Nazi
fight songs for Christmas,” I said. “And besides, he likes any form of marching
songs, even those.”
“Mrs. Big Dope?”
 |
| Some folks do admire their discipline. - C.W. |
“You might have a problem there,” I said. “If you really are
the ‘Ima Troother’ who keeps tagging her on Facebook. I think you are, aren’t
you?”
“Oh heavens no,” he said. “That must be one of the Keaderunda reps.”
Shaking my head, I said, “You more or less gave it away when
you posted that she made your Ba-Donka-Donk want a dip of snuff.”
“I repeat. I know nothing about any Facebook postings.”
“What about those ads someone purchased alleging that a
certain presidential candidate was widely known to have experimented in
thespianism with another woman while she was in college?”
“Those ads were true.”
“True or not, they lost her a lot of votes with the Franklin
Graham crowd. He even used them in his rallies, I've heard.”
“Anyway, I never paid for them.”
“Oh? Who did?”
“Hey,” he said. “Maybe I could claim I drifted ashore as a
child after my parents were lost at sea. My people would go for that.” His
skin began darken. He smiled and said, Funcionaría
eso?”
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