(xx) Fred Considers Joining the Lodge

Well, sir, it's early evening as I've seen open it now. And here in the living room of the small house, halfway up in the next block, we find Mr. and Mrs. Victor Gook. Rick has been talking on the telephone the last quarter hour, and has only just this moment replaced the receiver on the hook.

And he seems upset. Listen. He was petting nice and even condescending. Ha ha! Maybe you have some literature on it you could drop in the media and I'd find time to glance over, he says.

Oh. Literature. Does he think we print advertisements? I was afraid to find time to glance over. How you like that? I was afraid. Like the big gap sounds like he thought there wasn't any more to obtain in membership in the secret style to the Milky Way than walking up and buying a ticket.

Did you...fallen out? Uh-huh. He didn't hire anyone. I hardly opened my trap. Oh, that's good. See, he doesn't realize. Oh, he's stunned. Thunderstruck. Maybe you have some literature on the club you could drop in the mail, and I might find the time to glance over, he says.

I was afraid. A clubby called it. A club, mind you. The sacred stars are the milky way he called it club. Fred just don't understand about such things, eh? I'll say he don't. He's worked out all his life.

That's no excuse. That's no excuse. I was afraid this would come up. Why? Rosie mentioned it the other day. Yeah? She said Fred's been talking about. Well, he said the same thing he said a year or so ago.

Oh, that. I don't know the word I might let myself be talked into joining Rick's lunch. Is that what he said? Just about that. Our founder, RJ, can't call to be turning over in his grave.