"Man, you never fished until you have a Martian flying fish at the end
of the line!" I grabbed a ruler off the desk and began using it as an
imaginary rod and reel. "Talk about fight ... oh, sorry, Mac." My ruler
had amputated part of a floppy lettuce leaf that hung from McCleary's
sandwich.
I settled down in my chair again and started paying attention to my
lunch. "Nothing like it," I added between mouthfuls of liverwurst.
"How about entertainment?" Young winked slyly.
"Well, you know--the wife will be along," I said. "But some of the
places near the Grand Canal--and those Martian Mist Maidens! Brother,
if I was unattached...."
"There ain't any life on Mars," McCleary said, suspicious again.
All three of us looked at him in shocked silence.
"He says there's no life on Mars!" Donley repeated.
"You ever been there, McCleary?" I asked sarcastically.
"No, but just the same...."
"All right," I cut in, "then you don't know whether there is or isn't.
So kindly reserve your opinion until you know a little about the
subject under discussion."
* * * * *