Thursday, 16 July

Smoot:

I believe you are a tad late on the congrats vis my offspring. That blessed event took place some twenty years ago. Perhaps Old Hazy got things a bit turned around and mistook our recent announcement regarding Little Basmattie’s graduation from Miss DuCret’s Finishing School for Grrrls as a birth heralding. No, that bit of business is far in the past. My missus would have none of that at this stage of human evolution. She values her tennis too much to slog around with a “little lamprey in my belly sucking the life out of me” as she as always put it.

But on to things other.

You will hear no more from me regarding your sordid doings in those little groups of yours. I wash my hands of the whole matter. If it makes you happy then I too, as your lifelong friend, am happy as well. We all know that I have my little diversions as well and the less said about them via unsecured channels (e.g. the mails) all the better, hey?

Now, you mention Old Hazy and I of course must think back to the time that he decided to “get a job. A real job -- like men who live in small houses have.” Do you recall this? I believe what he finally settled upon was work in the tiling trade. His little tasks included the laying and grouting of bathroom and kitchen tiles in construction projects. Mostly he worked in the building of new restaurants as I recall. Perhaps I err here in the use of the plural for “restaurant.” There was only one (Chez Just Ducky) and he was dismissed by lunchtime of the first day having made a botch of things as well incurring the wrath of his co-workers by having his driver drop him at the site and wait for him with the engine idling and Schubert eminating from the car speakers. I saw him at the Club that very afternoon and he was full of details about his working adventure.

“There is a man called a ‘foreman,’ it would seem,” he began, his eyes wide with wonder, “and he told us all what to do. I immediately ran into a small problem when I got the old school tie stuck between the wall and a tile I had just secured. To be honest, I panicked and began yelling for help. Was I to be entombed here forever, as if in some real life recreation of ‘The Cask of Amontillado?’ I was shocked at their solution to my plight -- they simply snipped my tie off and left the end there behind the tile. I explained to them that this was not acceptable as not just anyone could wear such a tie. I yelled that a replacement would have to be procured at the expense of the general contractor. This brought a conclusion to my tiling career and, if I have my way, to all further attempts to work like those out there have to do.”

Old Hazy left his mark though. Next time you happen into the Chez Just Ducky (I believe they’re booking tables for next March right now), repair to the upstairs gentlemen’s room and speak to Adolpho, the head attendant. Ask to see the ‘Old Hazy stall'. He’ll know what you mean. There, visible to the discerning eye, is a protruding bit of the infamous school tie. Tip him nicely as he has two boys at Yale.

I live yet,

Brinkmanship

Letter the Current