Yesterday at dusk I was surveying my squash field (I determined that my beets field wouldn't be adequate for my planned In Seine Rock Fest). The air was charged with early-autumn chill, and I was coughing a bit. It was then I met my neighbor, Emory, who was on his adjacent field with his niece, a college student, who was visiting him and his wife from St. Louis. The three of us talked, and the niece asked me what work I do besides tending these boring fields.
"I'm a Vaticanologist" (cough), I answered.
"A what?" she said.
"I track events in (cough!) Vatican," I said. "Do you know who lives in (cough) Vatican?"
"No. Uh, Vaticans?" she answered with sincerity.
I coughed again. "Yes," I replied, "the Vaticans. They're the descendants of the Vulcans."
"Oh? Cool," she said with yet more sincerity.
Yes, the niece is a bleached blond. Emory isn't.
-Old Gargoyle
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