They stopped listening.
"Well, I guess that's it for us," said Traou. "We're finished. We will never work in this town again."
"I guess you're right, but don't worry: I don't blame you."
"WHAT! Blame me? Why?"
"Well," Cern explained, "you thought up that horrible title. How in hell did you expect him to work that into a story?"
"There's nothing wrong with that title. I LIKE that title! That is one damn fine title in my opinion. Please do not insult it again. I would hate to cause GBH* to you."
"Hah, like you could ever find anything to insult me about. Anyway, it is not a bad title..."
"Thank you," Traou interrupted.
"...it is an insanely, exhaustively, creatively horrible title," Cern finished moving quickly out of the reach of Traou.
"No matter. It can't be any worse than that botch idea you gave the german artist who went on to cause a world war."
"Off limits! I have apologized for that again and again. I thought we agreed to never mention that again."
"Okay but only if you never mention this agian, either."
"Deal!" They shook hands quickly. "Now let us begone before he hunts us down and does horrible things to us because of it."
They vanished in a puff of idea.
Return to the Index.