Apparatus umbrellicus
Vedic flew in, omitting to open the window and scattering glass over various conventional cottage appurtenances. "How," he said.
"You're not a Red Indian," said Nat (or as I shall now call him, Alistair, as he was not American).
"No. It was a rhetorical question," said Vedic. "I am your Natural Law Party candidate and am consequently allowed to ask them."
"Ask them what?" asked Alistair.
"Not what, how," replied Vedic.
"Gott is dett," said Nietzsche, whose English was deteriorating.
"Not Gott what?" Alistair said, patiently.
"What, not?" said Aunty Phyllis.
"NO" said everyone else, terminating her with a macaroon.
"That macaroon — heap bad vibes," said Vedic.
"Babboon!(?)" said Alistair.
"Certainly."
And a simian of rosy posterior came through the window. "Graark ark aark aark," it said, and ate Nietzsche's umbrella.
"So that's where it went!" he said, "last time I didn't remember. Never mind, since everything has already happened, it has probably been eaten by almost everything, on a geological timescale. I don't really want it back, now."
The babboon obliged, anyway.
3. MSS babboon Liz baboon Wilmowitz babloon uerbum non certae originis; cf. Ap.Rh. 3.1189 (άλ.)
37. I am not a baboon — I am only writing.
