A Useful Literary Device

Over brunch, Mr. Parvelescu opines on politics with Roderick, Lily Chang and Rosa Behaarte-Beine, visiting student from Germany. Rosa is a member of the Green Party, which would ordinarily make her something of a laughing stock on campus, but since she is somewhat hot the Old Ivy students tolerate her views on global warming.

They sit in the Dining Room of the Old Ivy Inn, near the fireplace. Outside, an icy wind blows from the Northwest. A cold front moves in, threatening to add several inches to the record snowfall this winter.

Earlier this week, Rosa tried to organize an anti-fracking demonstration at College Hall, but nobody showed up. Her timing was unfortunate; the demonstration coincided with several other events, including a lecture on "America's Natural Gas Boom" sponsored by the Political Economy Club; one of Molly's nude modeling sessions for the Human Figure Workshop; and a performance of the first of Haydn's "Apponyi" string quartets by the Old Ivy College String Quartet.

On that last point, the reader should note that if one is a devotee of the string quartet, one should not miss a single event in the Old Ivy College String Quartet's Haydn cycle. Six years ago, the quartet lost its funding when its donor, Mr. Lobkowitz of Beauneville, died and left his estate to care for his cats. Mr. Fermata, Dean of Music, told the members they would have to disband without additional funding, but agreed to support them for "one last Haydn cycle." At the current rate of one concert per month -- when college is in session -- the Quartet expects to wrap things up some time in 2016.

Meanwhile, nobody who has attended the first fifty-four concerts wants to miss the first of the "Apponyi" quartets.

Another reason for scant attendance at Rosa's demonstration: the administration, in solidarity with Rosa's opposition to use of fossil fuels, turned off the heat in College Hall. Their reasoning, which most on campus considered flawless, was that opponents of fossil fuel would not wish to be warmed by them. The result, of course, was that College Hall was almost unbearably cold. Rosa stood in the lobby, shivering, holding her sign ("Profits, No! People, Yes!") in one bemittened hand and banging a tambourine with the other bemittened hand for one hour. Roderick was actually kind of impressed with her performance -- he saw the last of it on the way back from the Political Economy Club and invited her to Sunday Brunch with Parvelescu.

Today's topic: the direction of American politics.

"Socialism," says Parvelescu, slurping his soup. Parvelescu is well-known for his concise and pithy commentary.

"Yay!" says Rosa.

"Oh, not that kind of Socialism." Parvelescu slathers butter on a roll and bites it.

"What kind of Socialism?"

"Free Stuff Socialism. That's where elected officials make timely and visible promises in return for votes, then actually deliver on small things like free phones and EBT cards."

"How does that differ from regular Socialism?"

"There is no planning, and no concern for actual human need. Nobody can live on a free phone and an EBT card; it's just a nice little gift, and since voting costs nothing voters can be bought cheaply."

"Isn't that bad for the economy in the long run?"

"Nobody knows what's good for the economy in the long run."

"Shouldn't we encourage people to be self-sufficient?"

"Think of democracy as a policy market. I prefer Beethoven to Lady Gaga, but in a mass culture Lady Gaga knows how to sell. I prefer Libertarian policies to Socialism of any kind, but Free Stuff Socialism appeals to the ninety-nine percenters who, by definition, outvote the one percenters. It doesn't matter if taxing the rich is bad for the economy; it's good politics."

Meanwhile, in her room, Megan continues to work on her novel.

"Where's Dahlia?" asked Mae Rose, several days later. The sinkhole has expanded, and now threatens the park out back.

"She's over by the Port-O-Potties, blowing some guy," says Muffin, who can't keep a secret.

"Damn, that girl can earn," mutters Mae Rose, glaring at Babs and Celia, who are sprawled in lounge chairs. "Not like some people around here."

"I'm working, Mama" says Emily, looking up from one of her books.

"You call that work?" says Mae Rose. "If you had any gumption, you'd be out earning some cash like your sister and not filling your head with them fancy books."

"But Mama," protests Emily, "I need a degree if I want to be a gender activist."

Muffin, bored with this conversation, runs outside to contribute a transformed version of this morning's dish of Alpo to the landscape.

Meagan pauses, reads that last line and smiles. Mr. Joyce, the writing professor is right; a talking dog is a useful literary device.

Megan's Wait

Lectures start tomorrow at Old Ivy. Megan works on her novel.

"Arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf!" says Muffin. "Arf! Arf, arf! Arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf!"

"Muffin, shut up!" screams Mae Rose, throwing a shoe. Muffin deftly avoids the thrown shoe and runs out back, where Alice glides lazily on the rope swing.

"Arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf, arf!" Muffin continues to bark, seemingly at nothing.

Alice bestirs herself slightly on the swing. "Ma! Shut up the fucking dog!"

Suddenly, there is a queer swishing noise, and the sycamore disappears into a sinkhole with a ploop, taking Alice with it. Muffin, being defter at foot than Alice, escapes.

Mae Rose runs out of the house and stares at the gaping hole where her back yard used to be. "Holy shit!" she exclaims.

"Don't say I didn't try to warn you," says Muffin.

"Now I'll never be able to sell this dump," says Mae Rose.

At the memorial service for Alice, Dr. Feelgood offers a eulogy. "She was lovely, big-boned, lazy, ignorant and a slut, and had no redeeming qualities to compensate. In the end, she was taken by a sinkhole, which seems ironic in a way that I can't quite articulate."

A woman in the church sobs. "So young, so young..."

Muffin rolls her eyes. "Please..."

Dr. Feelgood grasps Mae Rose' hands. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"You mean Alice? At least she was insured, which I can't say for my house."

Megan's phone rings. It's Roderick. "Hi Megan."

"Hi Roderick." Megan's heart goes thumpety-thump.

"The Klemperers are over again and we need a fifth for Geschichte der Schweizer Eisenbahnen. Can you join us?"

"Is it the strip variation?"

"Yes." The Klemperers live dangerously, and play a mean game of Geschichte der Schweizer Eisenbahnen.

Megan hesitates. "I don't know...I really don't get that game." Last Sunday Megan lost big time, being completely naked before any other player had removed a stitch of clothing. Otto Klemperer had proposed upping the stakes to spanking, but Roderick saved Megan's bacon by feigning a need for bedtime.

"Just follow my lead and don't worry," says Roderick. "You can sleep over if you like."

That last point sold Megan. "Be right there," she says, breathlessly.

Megan arrives at the Smith house a few minutes later. The game is already set up. Berolina is blinged up, as is her custom when she plays strip Geschichte der Schweizer Eisenbahnen. Once again, Molly feels like living dangerously and wears a single garment, a sundress with no underwear. Her shoes are somewhere upstairs.

"Dealing!" says Otto, shuffling the cards and distributing five to each player. He places the remainder of the deck in the center and turns the top card face up. "Ach! Ze SBB CFF FFS Ae 4/7. Player to ze right of ze dealer remove one thing, pliss!" He leers at Megan, who sits to his immediate right.

"What? Already? We just started!" protests Megan, who didn't have time to bling up.

"It iss ze rules, you vill remove one item, pliss."

"Oh all right," says Megan, pouting as she removes one shoe. "I really don't get this game."

Play continues; Berolina, Roderick and Megan drop out of the hand, leading up to a showdown between Otto and Molly. Otto licks his lips. He's holding the BAM Ge 4/4, an almost unbeatable card; he imagines Molly naked, though he hardly has to imagine since she's sitting cross-legged and he can see her blonde bush.

"BAM!" he says, slapping down his card, leering expectantly.

Molly gazes at it for a moment and, hand trembling, reaches for the top button on her dress. With her other hand, she plays her card, the BLS Re 465. "Rated at 6400 kW, I believe the BLS Re beats the BAM Ge 4/4, which produces a mere 3200 kW."

Stunned, Otto stares at the card for a minute, then slowly removes a shoe.

"Wow!" says Roderick to Molly, admiringly. "How do you know so much about Swiss railway locomotives?"

Molly shrugs. "I studied."

After an hour of play, Megan and Otto are completely naked, while Roderick is down to his boxers and Berolina has removed all of her bling. Molly remains fully dressed, or at least as fully dressed as she started.

It's Molly's turn to deal. "So how does the spanking variation work?"

Otto and Berolina claim to be tired, and the game breaks up.

Shortly thereafter, Roderick lies in bed with nude Molly curled up on his left and nude Megan curled up on his right.

"Roderick?" whispers Megan.

"Yes?"

"When are you and Molly going to do it, so then we can do it?"

Roderick, mindful that Molly is still awake, tries to be tactful. "Oh, I don't know. We have another eighteen months before the deadline."

"Okay," says Megan, snuggling up against Roderick. "I'm waiting."

Megan's Novel

Megan works on her novel:

Mae Rose lives in a prewar bungalow on a tree-lined street with her five lovely but big-boned daughters (Alice, Babs, Celia, Dahlia and Emily) and a very intelligent Dandie Dinmont Terrier named Muffin. Alice, Babs, Celia and Dahlia are lazy and ignorant, while Emily works very hard at school to no avail because she is just plain stupid.

Pausing, Megan reads that passage to herself and smiles. Good characterization, she thinks. Now to the setting.

Two grand old sycamore trees -- one in the front and one out back -- shelter Mae Rose's bungalow from the Florida sun. The sycamore out back, which the girls lovingly refer to as "the big tree", has a rope swing attached to one of the branches. If you look at the trunk you can read the names of Alice and Babs' many boyfriends, but none for Celia because she is too fat and ugly, and none for Dahlia because she doesn't give it out for free. Also none for Emily because she is too busy with fruitless study.

There are many other interesting things in Mae Rose's back yard, but be careful where you walk lest you step in one of Muffin's contributions to the landscape.

The property abuts on a little park with many poinciana plants and a row of Port-O-Potties funded by a Federal UDAG Grant.

Megan smiles. She likes that line. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to relax. Writing is hard work.

One day, Mae Rose, dressed in a floral muu-muu, stands on her back deck smoking a cigarette waiting for Muffin to contribute to the landscape. Suddenly, the doorbell rings. "Emily!" shrieks Mae Rose. "Answer the gawdamn door!"

Setting aside the Susan B. Anthony doll she found in the neighbors' trash, Emily shuffles down the hall to the door; she has a club foot, and Mae Rose's ex-husband refuses to pay for corrective surgery. "I have to pay alimony, child support and fix her gimp?" he complains. "Forget it!"

Emily opens the door; a man wearing a white shirt and tie stands on the stoop. He holds a clipboard. "Hello, may I speak with your Mom or Dad", he asks pleasantly.

"My Dad ain't here."

"Okay, can I speak to your Mom?"

Emily screams in the general direction of the back yard. "Mom! Some guy wants you!"

Mae Rose screams back. "Who is it?"

"I dunno."

"What does he want?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"Tell him to wait a minute!" Muffin needs a little more time.

Dahlia appears next to Emily. "Hi, I'm Dahlia," she says to the man.

"Hello, Dahlia."

"I'll blow you for twenty dollars."

"Um, not right now, I'm working."

"This evening, around eight, then? I'll be out back, near the Port-O-Potties."

Mae Rose appears. "Whattaya want?"

"Hello, Mrs. Owens, I work for the city, and I'm checking for sinkholes. Do you have any sinkholes to report?"

"You're checking for what?"

"For sinkholes."

"What's a sinkhole?"

"Ah," says the man, warming to his favorite subject. "A sinkhole, also known as a sink, swallow hole, shakehole, swallet or doline, is a depression or hole in the ground caused by some form of collapse of the surface layer. Some are caused by karst processes—for example, the chemical dissolution of carbonate rocks or suffosion processes in sandstone. Sinkholes may vary in size from 1 to 600 meters both in diameter and depth, and vary in form from soil-lined bowls to bedrock-edged chasms. Sinkholes may be formed gradually or suddenly, and are found worldwide. The different terms for sinkholes are often used interchangeably."

"Oh," says Mae Rose. "We ain't got none of those."

"Do you mind if I check out back? It will just take a few minutes."

Mae Rose shrugs. "Knock yourself out. Watch your step." She slams the door.

Retrieving his sinkhole detector -- a long stick -- from the truck, the man walks gingerly around the back of the house and towards the sycamore. Muffin greets him. "Hey, mister!" says Muffin. "Nice stick you got there. Want to play fetch?"

"Wow, a talking dog," says the man.

"And talking humans, too," says Muffin. "Isn't that precious."

"I'm checking for sinkholes, seen any around here lately?"

"No, but come back Friday morning, we're expecting a doozie."

"Hey, thanks for the tip."

"Don't mention it. Also you just stepped in one of my larger works from last March."

Megan's phone rings. It's Roderick.
"Hi Megan."

"Hi Roderick."

"Can you come over? The Richters are here, and we need a fifth for Geschichte der Schweizer Eisenbahnen. We're playing the strip variation."

"I don't really understand how to play that game, but of course I'll be right there," purrs Megan.

In the Smith's living room, Roderick sits on the floor with Molly and the Richter twins, Otto and Berolina. Berolina has prepared for the game by wearing many layers of clothing, plus bling. Molly wears a single garment, a blue dress that she ordinarily would never wear, but Molly likes the challenge of high-stakes strip Geschichte der Schweizer Eisenbahnen.

The doorbell rings; Roderick answers. It's Megan.