was the Summun Bonum!
The Summun Bonhomme? gasps Henri, unwittingly.
The Summun Bonem! utter the bums on the love seat, as one.
Yes, yes, yes , says Monette, yes, yes. The Bonum. The Summun. What more can one say? Cake?
What a delicious moment, eh dear Reader? Can you taste the silence that ensued? Could we extend beyond this point?
[We doubt it.]
A SERIOUS DISCUSSION
Ace:
Tell me Sam, do we have a goal? Did we ever have a goal?
Sam:
My dear Ace, our goal, if we ever had one, was to say less, to say badly whatever we had to say, or if you prefer to unsay what had already been said.
Ace:
Do I hear you correctly? Youâre saying that the goal of our being on this stinking planet, was not to say, but to say less?
Sam:
Exactly! Or to put it in simpler terms, all Iâm saying is, shut up, and donât ask dumb questions.
Â
[two hours later same day]
Ace:
Are you sure?
Sam:
Sure of what?
Ace:
Sure that we didnât have a goal.
Sam:
Youâre impossible, you know. Here you go again.
Ace:
I just want to know.
Sam:
Let me say it one more time for the last time. Our goal, if we had one, was less to advance, less to go forth -- to progress in other words -- than to delay.
Ace:
In what sense, delay?
Sam:
In nonsense, you cretin!
Ace:
Okay, okay, donât get excited, but somehow weâve managed to come that far.
Sam:
Oh yea! What far! Where?
Ace:
Where we are now.
Sam:
Sometimes I wonder how Iâve been able to endure you all these years.
Ace:
[wipes a tear]
Sam:
Iâm sorry. One more time. Our goal was not to clarify, but to obscure, to make things darker. Do you get it?
Ace:
Oh, I see. To make things less clear! ⦠Did we succeed?
Sam:
Of course we did.
Ace:
Then I feel much better.
THE COSTUME BALL
For the first time since they moved to Bumsville, more than forty years ago, the bums have been invited to attend the annual fund-raising costume ball to be held the County Museum of Modern Art.
The invitation stressed: Come dressed as your favorite fantasy .
For lack of space in this literary effort, we will not describe what the wives of the bums wore for the occasion, we will simply say that they both looked very attractive in their movie star costumes. As for Bum One, he went dressed as a Ku Klux Klan. He had shaped a white sheet into a long hood that came down to his ankles, and in it he had cut two eye holes. It was not bad, though he looked more like a cute little ghost than a mean ugly Klansman.
Bum Two went disguised as a Neo-Nazi Skinhead. He had shaved his head completely, put on huge iron-cross earrings and a chain necklace. He was bare chested, wearing only black leather pants with suspenders, boots that reached up to his knees, and on his fingers rings shaped into human skulls. On his forearms he drew SS tattoos, and on his chest he pasted a large photograph of Adolf Hitler.
The bums were a sensation at the ball. In fact, Neo-Nazi Bum won first prize for his costume (a magnum size bottle of California Champagne), and Ku Klux Klan Bum was awarded second prize (a regular one liter size bottle of New York State Champagne). [We apologize for the stinginess of the prizes, but Bumsville is at this moment in the midst of an economic crisis.]
Walking home a bit tipsy after the ball (still in their costumes), Bum Two embraced his friend and congratulated him for having won first prize, but he said, with a slight tone of envy: You know, I donât understand how a Neo-Nazi Skinhead can appear more important to the judges of this contest than a Klansman.
Oh, thatâs obvious, replied the winner, right now the Klan is in decline, whereas Neo-Nazism is on the rise. But you donât have to be a sore loser because of that.
A CURIOUS ARRANGEMENT
When the bums landed in Warsaw on their tour of East European countries, they took a bus to the edge of town and started thumbing to Krakow about 240 km south, the Mick out in front, the Yid hiding in the brush, in ditches, behind trees, taking