I say again: I’m very sorry that I snapped at you, Pinwheel. You know I’m usually a very calm person. But lately your conversation gets on this one stupid track, and I’m sorry, but I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to hear from you about systems thinking or performance measurement or project implementation, and I don’t care about how much your Strategy Formulation professor supposedly likes you, because you are a CAT, you get me? You are a small white CAT, and NONE of this is ever going to amount to anything. So congratulations on taking out $44,000 in school loans, because I’m sure that in five years the CEO of Smith Barney is going to be thinking, “Hey, you know who we desperately need heading the Acquisitions team at our Boston branch? A small furry creature with no thumbs and no ability to communicate with humans except through a series of vague mewling sounds that only his beleaguered owner can understand.”

What? What did you just say? Oh….whoa. Whoa. Okay. I had no idea your gambling debts were that out of control. Did you just say two hundred thousand? Really? Oh, gee. Now I’m starting to get the big picture. Good Lord. I’m sorry. All right, here’s what we’re going to do: we’re going to put plan C into effect. I don’t see that we have a whole lot of other choice at this point, frankly, because I owe about ninety grand to Benny Slam myself, thanks to Tiger’s inability to make a lousy nine foot putt.

I never told you about Plan C? Well, it’s pretty extreme, I have to say. Essentially we’re just going to put you in a wheelchair, throw a blanket over you, stick some sunglasses and a little cat hat on you, and I’m going to push you around town all day muttering to myself. When the dark cloak of night settles over the city, we’re going to find a clear spot between two bridges and just set up camp, and then the process will repeat itself the next day, and the next. We’ll have no identities, no paper trails. Sound good? So we’re just gonna need a wheelchair, a blanket, some sunglasses, and a little cat hat.

The long stick with the string that has feathers dangling from it? Um, no, Pinwheel, we better not take that with us. We can’t let any attachments slow us down---we have to be able to walk away the moment we sense the heat coming around the corner. Tell you what though, I think they have an online version of it, we can use the computers at the library once in a while to see what it’s up to. My book group meets there on Tuesdays anyway. I’m only into them for like ten thousand from the hockey playoffs, so they should be cool.