by Smitty
“Sometimes you’re the dog; sometimes you’re the fire hydrant,” mused R.
“Yep. Shifting elements, sometimes you’re on fire; sometimes the hydrant doesn’t put out,” replied B.
They sat in the dim bar so far out in Georgetown that it was more like Bethesda.
“I have literally no idea what to do next. It’s like asking: how would you fix some bombed-out variation of Venezuela,” moaned R.
“I’m reminded of that Jack Kirkpatrick line in Airplane! ‘. . .they bought their tickets, they knew what they were getting into. I say, let ’em crash.'” snarled B.
The Russian timed his selection beautifully.
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Thanks, Darleen!