C.W. and I were talking …
“Did you hear the latest from Sean Spicer,” his left head
said.
“Oh yes,” I said. “About Adolph Hitler never using gas on
his enemies?”
“That one," he said. "Do you have an explanation?”
“No,” I said, “I don’t. It is quite unbelievable that one
human being, so incompetent, could have a job at all, much less one with
national prominence.”
The right head started giggling.
“What’s with it?” I asked the other two.
The right one looked puzzled, and said. “Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“All the Nichtacraniems
are like that.”
“The what?”
“After all,” left head said, “they are from the Farstonian
Galaxy. It’s not like they are in what you would call the mainstream of cosmic
society.”
“You mean …?” I tried to assemble my thoughts.
“You thought he was one of you?” Middle head looked at me in
disbelief. Right head giggled again. "He certainly doesn't hold his species in high regard," he said to the other two. They both guffawed.
“But, but, how?” I said. “How did he get in with this new
president?”
Right head shook back and forth. “Do you mean you don’t
know?”
“Know what?”
“The
Nichtacraniems and the
Penceldikeons always hang
out together. Nobody else in the Universe will have anything to do with them.”
 |
| Don't worry. I hear he is going home. - C.W. |
