"Well, I've been living here for . . . well, for a long time," he said, looking sidelong at Shari. "And this has been as good a year as we've had. Yeah, it snowed in April. Happens. It was seventy-two two days after the nukes."
"Did that person just say what I think they said?" Elgars asked.
"Who?" Papa O'Neal replied, looking around.
"On the CD player," she said, pointing into the living room. "I think he just sang something about smearing the roast on his chest."
"Ah," said Papa O'Neal with a smile. "Yeah. That. Warren Zevon."
"Warren who?" Wendy asked. Elgars had been picking up socialization fast and she had to wonder if the captain had just done a very deliberate topic change. If so, go with it.
"Zevon," Mosovich said. "The Balladeer of the Mercenary. Great guy. Met him once. Briefly."
"Where?" Shari asked. "I recognize the name, but I can't come up with a song and . . ." She listened to a few lyrics and blanched. "Did he just say what I think he did?"
"Yep," Papa O'Neal said with a grimace. "That's 'Excitable Boy.' It's . . . one of his rougher pieces."
"I dunno," Cally said with a malicious chuckle. "Why don't you sing her a few bars of 'Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner'?"
"I don't think that will be necessary," Shari said with a smile. "And, believe it or not, I can take a little black humor."
"Oh, yeah?" Cally said with a sly grin. "Why'd the Posleen cross the road?"
"I'll bite," Mueller said. "Why did the Posleen cross the road?"
"To get to the fodder side," Cally said.
"Okay," Mosovich said. "That was pretty bad. Try this one: How do two Posleen resolve an argument?" He waited, but nobody jumped in. "Thresh it out between them, of course."
"Ow!" Papa O'Neal said. "What's the difference between a lawyer and a Posleen?"
"I dunno," Shari said. "One gets paid to eat you alive?"
"No, but that's pretty good," Papa O'Neal said. "No, one is a vicious, inhuman, cannibalistic monster; and the other is an alien."
"You hear the new slogan for the Posleen that fight Marines?" Wendy asked.
"Hah!" Mosovich said with a grin. "I can imagine a few. Oh, that would be sailors."
"The few, the proud: DESSERT!"
Cally looked around for a second then grinned. "How do you know that Posleen are bisexual? They eat both men and women!"
"I can't believe you said that!" Papa O'Neal grumped as the others laughed.
"Christ, you have me listening to Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne, Granpa!" Cally said. "And that little joke bothers you?"
"What's wrong with Black Sabbath?" he protested. "It's a good group. Great lyrics."
"Oh, I dunno," Cally said. "The name?"
"Christian!"
"Catholic, thank you very much."
"Okay, okay, breaking the mood here before bullets fly," Mueller said. "How many Posleen does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"
"I dunno," said Papa O'Neal grumpily. "How many?"
"Just one," Mueller said. "But it takes a really big lightbulb."
"I don't get that one," Elgars said.
"They're hermaphroditic," Wendy said. "They can't really self impregnate, not without help. But any two can reproduce with any other two so since 'go screw yourself' is an insult, people joke about them screwing themselves."
Elgars nodded her head. "I still don't get it."
"Think about it," Cally said. "In the meantime: Why did the Himmit cross the road?"
"I don't know," Elgars said.
"It didn't; it's on the wall behind you," Cally said with a grin.
Elgars regarded her calmly. "This is a joke?"
"Never mind," Wendy sighed. "Then there's the one about the Himmit who sat in his car for three days, in a no-parking zone, blending into the upholstery of the driver seat." She paused for a moment. "He got toad." She looked around. "Get it? Toad. T-O-A-D."
"Aaaagh!" Papa O'Neal shouted. "That's awful!"
"I don't get it again?" Elgars said. "What is a Himmit?"
"One of the Galactic races," Cally answered, shaking her head and throwing a biscuit at Wendy. "They sort of look like big frogs. They can blend into the background so well it's like they're invisible."
"Thank you," Wendy said, bowing at the table. "Thank you . . . Or the Himmit in the piano bar? One of the customers says to the piano player, 'Do you know there's a giant invisible frog having a beer on the wall behind you?' And the piano player said: 'Hum a bar or two and I'll pick it up.' Or the one about the extrovert Indowy? He looks at your shoes while he's talking to you."
"Those are awful!" Cally said.
"Worse than the bisexual joke?" Mueller asked. "Okay. Two soldiers in a foxhole. One says, 'I heard about two orphans passin' through town today. Those goddamn aliens hit their town a week ago, killed their dad—he was a marathon runner, of all things—and ate their Ma. Didn't eat him—just her. Crazy damn aliens, why'd they do that?' The other says, 'You idiot. Their Pa's lean'."
"That's terrible," Shari said. "Nearly as bad as this one. What's a good mascot for the ACS? A lobster: so good to eat, so hard to peel."
"Hey!" Cally said. "My dad resembles that remark! What do you call a Crab on a sugar high? Flubber. It just bounces and bounces . . . You know what they call a Crab studying Marine Biology? Speaker to shellfish."
"How do two hungry Posleen greet each other?" Papa O'Neal asked, not to be outdone. "With salt and pepper of course."
"Why did the Posleen leave an honor stick at the McDonald's?" Cally asked. "They saw the sign '6 billion served.' "
"You barely remember McDonald's," Papa O'Neal said suspiciously. "Who told you that?"
"Just . . . a guy," Cally said with a twinkle in her eye.
"Oh, shit," Mueller muttered. "Hey! How did the bus full of lawyers escape from behind the Posleen lines? Professional courtesy."
"What guy?" Papa O'Neal asked.
"What did the Posleen say when they took Auschwitz?" she asked, ignoring the question. " 'I prefer Sushi.' "
"What guy, Cally?" Papa O'Neal asked again.
"Just a soldier," she answered. "At the Piggly Wiggly. He told a joke and so did I and I left. It was no big deal. . . ."
"What do you call Posleen in the open and a Fuel Air Explosion?" Mueller asked desperately. "A Whopper and fries."
"What do you mean, no big deal?" Papa O'Neal said dangerously. "I don't want them changing the song to 'Cally went down to town.' "
"Okay," Shari sighed. "Look at me, Michael O'Neal."
"Yes?" he said grumpily.
"What do the Posleen call Carl Lewis?"
"I dunno," Papa O'Neal said, shaking his head. "You're not going to let me pursue this, are you?"
"No. Fast Food."
He snorted. "Okay."
"What did the Posleen say when confronted by an Ethiopian?"
"I dunno," he said smiling at her. "What?"
" 'Nouvelle Cuisine AGAIN?' I gotta million of 'em. What do the Posleen call a doctor?"
"What?"
"Lunch. What do the Posleen call a construction worker?"
"I dunno."
"Lunch. What do the Posleen call a politician? Competition. What do the Posleen call a lawyer? Trouble. Do you know why they substituted lawyers for Posleen in their chemical warfare experiments? Lawyers bred faster. There are things a Posleen won't do. And the researchers were taking pity on the Posleen.