Emerging Dialectic Stiffens on Contact with the Sniff
She tried
to explain dialectical materialism to me, but I could no more grasp the concept
than I could the necessity for a formalized existentialism. The corn dogs were sweet and greasy, like
Buck Dharma using cheap equipment. We
walked around the carnival on the last day of the state fair.
“They’ve
already loaded up most of the livestock,” I pointed out, much disappointed.
“Those are
big pigs,” she said of the last few that lay in the straw.
“They’re
almost as big as my car,” I agreed.
“Do you
think that pig’s dick is bigger than yours?” she asked me with what I now
remember (as) as much seriousness as the endocrinologist’s son presenting an
unpaid bill.
And so we
drove on to the north, heading for the largest private residence in the
hemisphere.
“Only the
Android’s Eyrie is larger,” I informed her.
“And that’s in Kumbuktwat.”
“When I was
a kid we used to come here every year,” I continued talking, driving, and
paying for everything. “One year we got
here and there was a car show on the front lawn, all vintage model
Thunderbirds.” There was no response to
this, so I guess it was a boring reminiscence.
When she
and I arrived at the grand old mansion we discovered another exhibition spread
across the lawn, this one of tractors and farm equipment.
“Do you
think that pig’s dick was bigger than yours?” She asked.
.
