The peel blackens! Seal our porous border!

He whose name is not spoken in polite circles (a million praises to him and his eternal seed) has trouble sleeping. A dull--almost imperceptible--undercurrent of thought nudges him back into awareness every time he tries to drift into dreams. Thoughts about nothing.

Across town, two other souls, like him, have forgotten what it is to enjoy a nights sleep. Delusions of wealth keep them feverishly working into the small hours. The constant background hum of cooling fans is broken intermittently by furious keystrokes.

The Insignificant Aide, (curses unto her and her ignorant lot): Umm... Sire

He...: And what inane question do you have now, you unbelieving monkey-descendant?

IA: My Lord, I was wondering if I could take some time off to visit ...

He...: No.

IA: But...

He...: No.

IA: But my Lord, I have not seen them since your sent them across the great porous border; and I have been working long and hard for you for many years now; and.. and.. and... Look here, sire, I have callouses on my hands from....

He...: The answer is still no. And now that you have exhausted your vocabulary and all your logical reasoning faculties, why don't you get back to work, you peasant!

He whose name is never uttered goes back to his sleepless dreams.

IA looks for a soft pillow, one that can muffle screams well.

The measure will pass.

No word yet on whether this is a summer night or a winter evening; its too close to call.

Such trifles aside, however, there is grave business to be settled. He whose name is rarely, if ever, spoken (not entirely due to a scarcity of blog posts) enjoys a rich, smoky sips of an Islay malt, seemingly pondering the answer to the Universe with his eyes closed as the peaty fragrance wafts up his nostrils. His insignificant aide, (a thousand curses upon her) waits impatiently by his side, hunched, with her hands clasped almost in prayer, for a moment of his attention.

He whose name is everything and nothing at all condescends enough to interrupt his Scotch.

He...: What is it now, you silly fool!?

InsignificantAide (IA) : er... it's nothing ... only....

He...: Only what!?

IA: I was thinking..

He...: Don't! It might hurt your tiny little brain.

IA: I was thinking,.. when do you think I will be grown up?

He...: Wha..?!

IA: When will I be grown up, rich, powerful, wise and be able to run for public office?

He...: Why do you need to be grown up to run for public office?

IA: So I can be rich

He...: And who says you will be rich if you are grown up?

IA: I saw it on TV

He...: And what else did you see on this "TV"?

IA: A talking ball of meat who lives with a large cup of milkshake in New Jersey, and a something about humans being born of apes.

He...: Imagine that! humans born of apes. Marky Mark would love that, don't you think?

IA: Huh..? Who?

He...: Nevermind.

IA...: So when do you think?

He...: Most of the time, unless I'm unconscious... Well, I might be dreaming even when I am unconscious, so I guess I think almost all the time.

IA...: No, I meant when do you think I will be grown up, rich, and wise?