Maybe it is not such a good idea to attack this country.
“Where are you from?” said the taxi driver.
“Krpshtskan,” said Vrsk.
“Gesundheit,” said the driver.
“What?” said Vrsk.
“Gesundheit,” said the driver. “It’s a joke.”
“Ah,” said Vrsk. “Ha-ha. Thank you.” He did not actual y understand the joke. But in Krpshtskan, where people had little else to give each other, a joke was considered sort of a present. If somebody told you one, good manners required that you tel one in return. Vrsk frowned, trying to think of a Krpshtskani joke he could translate into English. Final y, he settled on one that was popular with Krpshtskani children. He said to the driver, “How are you keeping chicken out of toilet?”
“What?” said the driver.
“How,” Vrsk repeated slowly, “are you keeping chicken out of toilet?”
“You need a toilet?” said the driver.
“No, no,” said Vrsk. “ Chicken is trying to get into toilet.”
“Chicken?” said the driver.
“Yes,” said Vrsk. “Chicken.”
“What chicken?” said the driver.
“Is not real chicken,” Vrsk assured him.
The driver eyed Vrsk in the rearview mirror.
Drmtsi said to Vrsk, in Krpsht, “What are you saying to him?”
“I am tel ing him joke about chicken and toilet,” said Vrsk.
“Ha! Good one!” said Drmtsi, roaring with laughter and pounding his thighs hard enough to send powerful puffs of smerk smel bil owing through the taxi.
“Is there a problem back there?” said the driver.
“No problem,” said Vrsk. “Is joke.”
“You think it’s funny, stinking up my cab?” said the driver.
“Ah,” said Vrsk. “Is not stink. Is smerk.”
Recognizing the word, Drmtsi reached into his pants and held a reeking green glob out toward the driver.
“Smerk?” he said.
“Get that away from me!” said the driver, almost swerving off the road.
“He says he is not hungry,” Vrsk said to Drmtsi.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, the driver darting suspicious glances at his aromatic passengers in the rearview mirror. By the time they pul ed into the Hubble Middle School driveway, dusk had fal en. The taxi stopped in front of the enormous, two-story brick building, which appeared deserted. Drmtsi and Vrsk got out and gave the driver a gold coin.
He grunted—he was pretty sure the coin was worth far more than the fare—and drove away, keeping al the windows open to rid the taxi of smerk stench.
Drmtsi and Vrsk approached the school’s large, glass front doors. They pushed and pul ed on the handles; the doors were locked. They pounded on them and waited; nothing happened. They pressed their faces against the glass and peered into the dark corridor. They saw nobody.
Drmtsi and Vrsk looked at each other. They hadn’t given much thought to what they would do when they got here. They’d just assumed that they would find Prmkt. But there was no Prmkt here, and it was dark, and they were both very tired and very hungry. Drmtsi frowned. As fourth vice president, he knew it was his responsibility to come up with a plan.
“Perhaps,” said Vrsk, “we should find a place to sleep and come back to school in morning.”
“Quiet,” said Drmtsi. “I am thinking of a plan.”
“Sorry,” said Vrsk.
Drmtsi frowned some more. It was hard work. After a minute he said, “I have a plan.”
“Yes?” said Vrsk.
“Right now,” said Drmtsi, “we find a place to sleep.”
“Ah,” said Vrsk.
“Tomorrow,” said Drmtsi, “we come back here and look for Prmkt.”
Vrsk nodded. “It is a good plan,” he said.
“Yes,” said Drmtsi. “Fol ow me.”
With Fourth Vice President Drmtsi in the lead, the two Krpshtskani agents began walking along the school driveway. When they reached the street, they turned right, toward the business district.
They did not notice the white Ford sedan creeping along the street about fifty feet behind them.
The two occupants of the Ford—both wearing starched white
“Where are you from?” said the taxi driver.
“Krpshtskan,” said Vrsk.
“Gesundheit,” said the driver.
“What?” said Vrsk.
“Gesundheit,” said the driver. “It’s a joke.”
“Ah,” said Vrsk. “Ha-ha. Thank you.” He did not actual y understand the joke. But in Krpshtskan, where people had little else to give each other, a joke was considered sort of a present. If somebody told you one, good manners required that you tel one in return. Vrsk frowned, trying to think of a Krpshtskani joke he could translate into English. Final y, he settled on one that was popular with Krpshtskani children. He said to the driver, “How are you keeping chicken out of toilet?”
“What?” said the driver.
“How,” Vrsk repeated slowly, “are you keeping chicken out of toilet?”
“You need a toilet?” said the driver.
“No, no,” said Vrsk. “ Chicken is trying to get into toilet.”
“Chicken?” said the driver.
“Yes,” said Vrsk. “Chicken.”
“What chicken?” said the driver.
“Is not real chicken,” Vrsk assured him.
The driver eyed Vrsk in the rearview mirror.
Drmtsi said to Vrsk, in Krpsht, “What are you saying to him?”
“I am tel ing him joke about chicken and toilet,” said Vrsk.
“Ha! Good one!” said Drmtsi, roaring with laughter and pounding his thighs hard enough to send powerful puffs of smerk smel bil owing through the taxi.
“Is there a problem back there?” said the driver.
“No problem,” said Vrsk. “Is joke.”
“You think it’s funny, stinking up my cab?” said the driver.
“Ah,” said Vrsk. “Is not stink. Is smerk.”
Recognizing the word, Drmtsi reached into his pants and held a reeking green glob out toward the driver.
“Smerk?” he said.
“Get that away from me!” said the driver, almost swerving off the road.
“He says he is not hungry,” Vrsk said to Drmtsi.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, the driver darting suspicious glances at his aromatic passengers in the rearview mirror. By the time they pul ed into the Hubble Middle School driveway, dusk had fal en. The taxi stopped in front of the enormous, two-story brick building, which appeared deserted. Drmtsi and Vrsk got out and gave the driver a gold coin.
He grunted—he was pretty sure the coin was worth far more than the fare—and drove away, keeping al the windows open to rid the taxi of smerk stench.
Drmtsi and Vrsk approached the school’s large, glass front doors. They pushed and pul ed on the handles; the doors were locked. They pounded on them and waited; nothing happened. They pressed their faces against the glass and peered into the dark corridor. They saw nobody.
Drmtsi and Vrsk looked at each other. They hadn’t given much thought to what they would do when they got here. They’d just assumed that they would find Prmkt. But there was no Prmkt here, and it was dark, and they were both very tired and very hungry. Drmtsi frowned. As fourth vice president, he knew it was his responsibility to come up with a plan.
“Perhaps,” said Vrsk, “we should find a place to sleep and come back to school in morning.”
“Quiet,” said Drmtsi. “I am thinking of a plan.”
“Sorry,” said Vrsk.
Drmtsi frowned some more. It was hard work. After a minute he said, “I have a plan.”
“Yes?” said Vrsk.
“Right now,” said Drmtsi, “we find a place to sleep.”
“Ah,” said Vrsk.
“Tomorrow,” said Drmtsi, “we come back here and look for Prmkt.”
Vrsk nodded. “It is a good plan,” he said.
“Yes,” said Drmtsi. “Fol ow me.”
With Fourth Vice President Drmtsi in the lead, the two Krpshtskani agents began walking along the school driveway. When they reached the street, they turned right, toward the business district.
They did not notice the white Ford sedan creeping along the street about fifty feet behind them.
The two occupants of the Ford—both wearing starched white
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