Why Nutpear Are Not a Viable Concept
“The
combination of the nut and the pear just doesn’t suit,” Dr. Hambora’s mother
shook her head and made a sour face.
“Mama,
we’re not talking about a literal combination of a nut and a pear. We’re not even talking about a nut or a pear
in the way you normally understand them: an edible nut or pear. We’re talking about nutpear, a symbiotic disco adhesive that acts as a sponge in
transluminal environments such as, say, the streets of some really old village
in Europe, streets too narrow for use by automobiles.” Dr. Hambora sounded exasperated, as well he
should: it had been three days since the aquacouncillor manbot had escaped from
Larry’s penthouse and in all that time Hambora had not taken a shit. There just hadn’t been an opportunity.
“I would
imagine that this nutpear would make you bookie,” the old lady posited, using a
euphemism from the doctor’s childhood.
He reflected on his mother’s use of the word “imagine.” There was very little evidence of her ever
having had an imagination, except for the crazy, boring dreams she retold
almost every morning, eventually driving Hambora’s father to leave home and
wander the Grand Canyon, searching for the hidden chamber wherein the Pubic
tribe maintained an orchard of so-called “nutpear” trees, totally unrelated to
the concept currently being investigated by the committee to which Hambora was
attached in the capacity of scientific advisor.
.
