Platters
by Harris Tobias
“He says he can’t come to
the phone.”
“Why not?”
“He says he’s washing the
platters.”
“Did you tell him that this was
the President of the United Galaxies?”
“I did sir.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said he had only a few more
platters.”
“Feeble minded old bat,”
muttered the president.
“I beg pardon.”
“Listen, would you just tell
him that galactic Intelligence has reported that
the Drunds are entering the home system. The
weather station on Saturn is already under fire
and unless your husband gives us the formula in
the next seven minutes, humankind will be
inihilated.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly
remember all of that,” replied Mrs. Spigitz,
“but here he comes now.”
“Professor Spigitz here, go
ahead.”
“The formula,” blurted the
President,” we need the formula to activate
the crystalline preservative and save at least
some of humanity.”
“Oh yes, yes, that formula,”
said the white haired professor wiping his free
hand on his apron. “You know i thought up
that formula while washing the platters. You see
I...”
“Yes, yes, another time
professor please, the formula.”
“Well, yes, just a minute. Keep
your pants on, I’ll go and look for it.”
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