I nodded, solemnly, to assure Mrs. Baxter that she had nothing to worry about. I continued nodding, solemnly, to let her know that Sparky and I would start preparing for the special occasion immediately. That’s how we did things back then. Footnote puppies: when your boss has something important to say, look her square in the eyes and listen. It makes her feel better. No more of this scatter-brained, tongue-out, jumping-like-you’re-on-a-trampoline frenzy every time the higher-ups have a comment or concern. Pull yourselves together. Don’t get me started. I found my pal in the backyard””he’d been listening to Vern talk about “the absurdity of hope” through the hole in the fence. Sparky, I think, was grateful for the interruption but Vern, who didn’t seem to notice much of anything, just kept talking. Don’t get me started. I relayed the facts to Sparky: special dinner, important people, best behavior. To which my pal replied, “So, like, what are they having for dinner?” I explained, to the best of my ability, that that didn’t really matter; that we were ambassadors for the Baxter’s and that it was our job to assist the guests in whatever way proved most necessary or helpful. Sparky nodded, solemnly. To this day, I’m not sure how Mrs. Baxter’s premonition ended up materializing exactly the way it did. Sparky used to say the incident was nothing more than a classic case of good chicken and bad luck. Don’t get me started. According to my pal, Mr. Baxter’s associates””well-dressed humans, totally fixated on the subject of merging some biscuit maker with some other biscuit maker””were given every opportunity to consume their entrees in a timely, responsible fashion. When they didn’t, Sparky scaled the table and “assisted” them. At that point, Mrs. Baxter, a dancer in her younger years, poured more wine with one hand and produced a jar of aspirin with the other. Sparky, covered in chicken, potatoes and guilt, bid the table adieu. Which reminds me of the time Vern’s people asked Mrs. Baxter if, seeing as they were going out of town for the weekend, Vern could stay at our place until they got back.

Signed,

Morty