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1993-06-21
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Copyright 1993(c)
A Trip to Users
I quit.
What do you mean, you quit?
I've done all I can, I give up.
Put Nell on the phone. ....Nell, did Lyris Must just quit?
Or was she joking?
Brent Mallard has installed two new telexes for her, but
she's adamant. She just can't continue to type at a computer, use
her feet to weave clothing for poor sax-players, make marinis for
all the newcomers, and answer six phones, all at the same time.
She's pooped.
What can I do to help?
Fax the President.
You're joking.
No. We need your support. The President must be made aware
of our views. We must save the planet, and Lyris can't do this
alone. Steward Valmer has been faxing the President for weeks now,
and he's tiring out too.
***
Hello, I'd like to send a fax to President Connie Antonym.
You can't fax the President without the proper visas.
I need a visa to send a message?
Yes. You must go to The Republic of Users which is a small
dictatorship in the Balking Isles, get a temporary work visa, and
fax from there. Only from there!
***
Let me stamp your banana for you.
I don't understand.
Banana. You know, yellow fruit, grows on trees.
Yes I know what a banana is, in fact I noticed all the
mashed and stinking bananas all over the roads and sidewalks. This
place is crawling with rabid flies, too. Why do you stamp bananas?
Actually we only stamp the skins. The banana skin is your
work permit, your visa.
Why do you throw out the fruit?
Oh, but we don't! Notice the smell all around you, the
perfume of the tropics; slimy rotting fruit smeared on curbs and
mixed with our refuse, and notice our loving labor which has
wrought this beautiful place! We love it like this! The stench from
the sweat and urine of the visa-holders is part of our trademark
and we love that too!
It's infectious and treacherously slippery around here.
Yes, we know.
I see. Here you go....
...Thank you. You are hereby awarded one work visa good for
sixty days or 5,000 messages. Good luck! Smoke 'em if you got 'em.
***
What's that?
The American President. She come to im-spect the
visa-holders.
That old tank rolling down the middle of Banana Avenue has
the President inside?
Si. She come to im-spect. She say she like the flies here.
She say she like the people, too. But she don't like the smell, and
she don't want to slip on the rotten fruit, so she ride in a tank.
***
Please send this fax to the President.
Thank you, Senor. May I read it? I enjoy reading the
faxes.
Of course!
Here, Senor. Have a banana while I read your fax. Please
throw the skin on the floor.
TO: President Connie Antonym
FROM: Hank Chiders
RE: The Planet
We the people of the Planet wish to inform you that
we like it the way it is. Please do not try to clean
it up. The Planet may be full of garbage but it's our
garbage so we enjoy it and in fact look forward to
contributing more garbage. To us, it isn't garbage.
To us, it is a way of life. It helps us in our
business and our personal lives. Our garbage, by the way,
doesn't stink, either. It's high-class garbage that can only
be appreciated by us. Please leave the Planet alone, or else.
What do you think of my message?
Very good, Senor. I have written such messages myself.
Here, have another banana.
I don't like bananas much. I think I'll pass.
Senor! This insult is too much for me! I may faint! Take
the banana, please. My wife will laugh at me, my children will be
thrown out of school - to hear that you refused this banana!
Oh, all right.
And throw the skin on the floor.
You seem to have lots of garbage on the floor. In fact, my
feet are stuck to something...
Yes! Senor, is it not wonderful? We make a big stink here
and everyone enjoys it. It is our trademark and we are very proud
of The Republic of Users. Mine, yours, ours... Everyone's garbage
is the essence of our lives!
***
Nell? I faxed the President.
Good work. How is it going down there?
It's all right, I guess, except for the smell. And the
rabid flies. And I keep slipping on the banana slime all over the
sidewalks and streets.
Wear skis! When in The Republic of Users, wear skis! My
my, where is your creativity?
How is Lyris doing? Did she find another job?
No no, my dear girl, she Un-Quit! Lyris is in the
trenches, even as we speak, defending her right to kiss anyone she
wants. She has also, of course, been defending our right to keep
the status quo.
Wonderful. Is she making any progress?
Yes! However, there has been one serious casualty.
Who? What happened?
Myron Palm died. He was once King of the One Liners, you
know, and the President has decided that one-liners are no longer
allowed. Ugh. Ack. It was ugly. He died from choking on a bon-mot.
So sad. His method is no-longer approved, eh?
Yes. All the Epigrams left town right after his funeral.
Then something truly terrible happened to his body... the cannibals
stole his casket!
What?
They heard about his last word, and took him literally. His
last word was "BYOB."
Nell, I knew it would come to this. I knew it. Why didn't
anyone tell them he was just being witty?
My dear, cannibals eat wits, they don't try to understand
them.
***
Senor. Here is a response to your fax. May I read it? I
enjoy reading other peoples' messages. Why, here in the Republic
of Users we pride ourselves in participating in other peoples'
lives.
Certainly. It's your country, after all.
TO: Hank Chiders
FROM: President Connie Antonym
RE: The Planet
Rules are rules. Everyone must stick to the rules.
I am going to use insecticide on the Planet, a
dust broom in your home, and if I have to, I'll
argue with Lyris Must forever, just in order to
have a cleaned-up Planet and everyone abiding
by my rules. Your garbage stinks. I am, The
President.
Hello, Brent? The President didn't go for it. I hear you
have an airplane. How about dropping some leaflets on the White
House lawn?
Hank, I'll tell you, I've already tried that tactic. The
President LOVED the leaflets. She LOVED what they said! It's my
brilliant and wonderful wife who is so upset now.
Huh?
The leaflets, Hank. They were full of words. Many words,
all carefully written in a language the President would understand.
Bess is upset over Myron's death and felt the leaflets should have
contained all one-liners!
That would have started a riot.
Yes, I know.
How is Bess now?
She's taking a Last Flight around the neighborhood before
turning in for the night. She'll be okay. How are YOU, Hank?
In stink city, Brent. This Republic of Users has garbage
all over the place!
Well come on home, then!
Yeah. I miss the dirty socks on the lawns, the three-day
old toast hanging from trees and most of all, the bon-mots all over
the streets.
How sweet it is, Hank. Come on home! Oh, by the way, I am
the new Fire Chief.
Congratulations, Brent! What sort of fires will you put
out?
Well, first I'll get rid of that bonfire on the White House
lawn. Also, I was thinking of making apples our national product.
Why apples?
Better garbage, Hank. Apple peels aren't as slippery as
bananas or as flammable as leaflets and faxes!
They stink when they rot, Brent. All garbage stinks.
Now you sound like The President, Hank!
Oops! I must have slipped. Got to get out of this Republic!
END