GREY, GREYNESS, GREYITY

Apparently I am a horrible human being and very un-Christian. Because I did NOT forewarn anyone about the signal peculiarities of Little White Nipple Dude. Who arrived at the same general time as most of the members of the local pipe club, spent nearly four hours there, and found nearly a dozen victims. Bernard thought I had come to save him at one point.
But was disappointed. He had to endure half an hour more of Little White Nipple Dude.

It should be mentioned that Little White Nipple Dude is a truly fascinating man and superior conversationalist. What with being a brain surgeon jet fighter pilot podiatrist astronaut in training nuclear physicist zen monk sherrifs deputy. AND having a rich inner life.

There was no way in hell I would save anyone at all from his delightful discussive stylings, because then I would have to listen to him. More than I already had. Which would be most unfair, there's more than enough of him to go around.
And I had things to do.

Calvin, the other person of peripherally Netherlandish heritage, agreed with Bernard. At the very least I should have rescued my fellow ethnics, if no one else. Sorry, you're both older than me, and very social. You should know better by now. Oh look, a pink-elephant!
And make your escape.

Or do what I do. Seize control of the conversation, dominate it, change the subject several times, and leave his little head spinning. Exercise conversational strategies which you've always wanted to try. Whenever possible mention that you're a vegan.
Hop up and down on one leg for a bit.
Confuse him.


Worst comes to worst, declaim all the lyrics to Charlotte The Harlot or The Winnipeg Whore as if it's Shakespearian poetry. I tried that once at a company meeting, and was excused.

When I got back home after the meeting of the pipe club it was turning cold and grey in San Francisco, with fog hiding large buildings at the top of the hills. So the first thing I did was fix myself a cup of coffee and put on a warmer garment. In the left pocket of this comfy piece of clothing there is a soft small sock, infant foot size, which I had found deposited in front of the apartment building last night. I may not be any good at saving my fellow pipe smokers, being all heartless and giggling at their predicament, but I can save a lonesome and abandoned sock. Somewhere a baby delinquent is wantonly waggling his or her toes at strangers.


I think it was a good meeting, but I didn't really notice. I kept looking over my shoulder to see if the worlds greatest conversationalist was sneaking up on me. But I probably would have heard him.



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