Here’s my counter offer. You can use the counter any time you want, even when we’re having brunch in the kitchen on alternate Sundays, as per our agreement, volume 3, chapter 5, subsection 4, paragraph 2 (see also sources in footnote 845). Now what do you say?
Yeah, here we are, making a deal with the devil, folks. Yes, I’m talking about those crazy squatters who invaded and occupied the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, our makeshift home, sometime during the summer, consigning us and our various hangers-on to the potting shed in the courtyard. We’re attempting to reach some understanding with them, but it’s a bit more complicated than I had imagined. Apparently one of these yahoos is a contract lawyer. Doesn’t look it.
Anyway, our draft agreement for the return of Big Green to the Cheney Hammer Mill is … well, it’s thick as your ass, maybe thicker. Lots of wherefores and what-have-you’s, which is fine, because what have we right now but big fat nothing? There are few disputes that cannot be settled through studied diplomacy, and while none of us are trained negotiators, our friend Anti Lincoln did once play one on T.V. … or was that Lincoln Lincoln? Not sure I remember – they look almost exactly alike. It’s uncanny! (Speaking of uncanny, when’s lunch?) So … Anti Lincoln has taken up our part in these talks, and we couldn’t be better represented. (Mainly because we have no money. Don’t tell Lincoln.)
Thing is, I don’t know how good a lawyer anti-Lincoln ever was. I mean, the real Lincoln had a sharp legal mind. That makes me suspect that anti-Lincoln is a dullard. Or maybe their opposition to one another is played out along some vector other than human intelligence. I’m thinking about suggesting that anti-Lincoln just make a speech in the meeting room, just to turn things upside-down for a few moments while we rummage through the mill and take anything of value. We could then use the proceeds of our ill-gotten gains to hire a decent lawyer, for cryin’ out loud.
In the meantime, we’re being committed to some punishing legal sanctions. It’s all in the agreement. Like page 17 – Mondays and Thursdays are pants optional days. I say “optional,” but the truth is .. they really don’t want to see any pants. They just want to laugh at our expense. (And again, mea culpa – I didn’t realize I was spending so much.)
Well, let’s hope we can ink this thing soon. It’s getting cold out here, and the potting shed is, well, being used for pots right now.
