good morning, ali.
it is afternoon, mister smith.
thank you, ali. i stand corrected. i had something else on my mind, and it must have wandered a bit.
something else on your mind besides my visit? that is not very promising.
promising or not, let’s get on with it. and of course, i am obliged to inform you yet again that you may, if you like, address me as bill, and not as mister smith.
yes, mister smith.
;
so how have you been? have you added to or altered any of your identities since i saw you last?
yes, loads. how about you?
i have not changed, except for being six months older. let’s get on with it.
why, are you in a hurry?
i have a schedule to get through.
yes, because you are a lizard brained bureaucrat in a dead end job passing judgment on people who are even more oppressed than yourself.
and you a tiresome little troll. now tell me about these loads of new identities you have altered or added.
i have them all recorded here.
great. would you like to leave them here and we can discuss them on your next visit?
are you serious? by that time i will probably have a whole new batch.
of course. what was i thinking? who is up first?
momo, a poor wood gathrerer in the hills of gondwanaland…
this is mono, identity number 9560-439-43w?
yes. momo has joined an outlaw band…
the afternoon wore on. bill would have liked to finish quickly with ali, to prepare himself for his visit from detective constantine or some other policeperson, but he could not tell that to ali.
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