Fictionlet
“Really?” said Lisa, sipping her soda. “Well, that’s a useful skill I suppose. It must be somehow.”
“I don’t know how he does it,” said Sharon. “It’s uncanny.”
“You think we’re joking,” said Brigid. “Here, watch this. Hey Greg!”
Greg, who’d spent the better part of the past ten minutes of the party intently watching the activity in the fishtank, looked up and made his way around a chatting couple. “Yes?” he said.
“Say something ridiculous and yet somehow strangely poignant,” Brigid said.
“Hmm,” said Greg, put his hand to his chin for a moment, then said, “How about: Jim Backus with a walker looking ancient and decrepit in his thirty-second cameo on The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan’s Island.”
Lisa, who had been chuckling in amusement until now, looked at Greg wide-eyed, as if he’d told her a beloved relative had died. “Wow,” she said. “I remember that.”
“Anything else I can do to be of service?” Greg asked.
-The Gneech
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