his guy I used to shep with, couple of months
each season, in the hills near Dean's Ravine —
AGENORA: Hey, that's in Cadmus, isn't it?
COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: It's between
Cadmus and Isthmus campuses, I think.
MAILMAN: Well, anyhow, my buddy gave a wink
at me one day and asked me if I knew
what he had in his lunch-pail. I said, "Stew."
That's what he usually ate. He said, "Heck, no.
I got a kid for sale, pal, and I'll go
halfies with you if you'll fence him for me…"
AGENORA: That dirty doublecrosser!
MAILMAN: Well, he swore he
couldn't feed some flunking crow or eagle
perfectly good merchandise, illegal
or not.
TALIPED: How tenderhearted.
MAILMAN: What I did,
since he was anxious to unload the kid,
I bought him then and there at the wholesale price.
I'd looked him over quick; he seemed in nice
enough condition — - maybe not too handsome,
but I could get my money back and then some,
I was sure, because the Dean was sterile
and in the baby market. Man, I swear I'll
break that swindling shepherd's neck if ever
I lay eyes on him again! The clever
bastard had the kid wrapped in a sheet,
and when I took it off, I saw his feet
were pegged together, and he was almost dead.
Well, you can imagine what I said!
But it served me right: I'd bought a kid-in-a-poke.
I pulled the peg, and figuring the kid would croak
by morning, sold him to the Dean that night
at cost. Turned out the kid survived, and right
after that I got this job as mailman.
Neither dark of night nor sleet nor hail can
stay me, but the ladies slow me down.
[TO AGENORA]
Bye-bye now, Deaness; next time I'm in town
I'll look you up.
AGENORA: You know my address, hon.
TALIPED: [TO MAILMAN]
Hey, wait! You mean to tell me I'm the one
you bought and sold?
MAILMAN: Are your feet scarred?
TALIPED: They always have been.
MAILMAN: And your ID-card
says Taliped Decanus, does it not?
TALIPED: Of course it does.
MAILMAN: And I guess you know what
Taliped means?
TALIPED: It means "swollen foot."
MAILMAN: You're It, then, pal.
TALIPED: By George! I never put
two and two together until now!
COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: A mathematician you aren't. But tell me how
a woman like your wife can go to bed
for nine years with a man named Taliped
and never see his scars!
AGENORA: Listen, tootsie:
you and your wife might like playing footsie,
but when a fellow goes to bed with me,
it isn't his big toe I want to see.
COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: And yet you must have wondered — -
AGENORA: Will you please
get off my back?
COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: When old Labdakides
and you — -
AGENORA: Shut up!
TALIPED: Yes, do. Now, Mailman, tell
me this: where'd he get the child to sell,
this fellow up in Dean's Ravine you shepped with?
MAILMAN: Beats me. It could have been some dame's he'd slept with.
But come to think of it, he didn't look
much like a shepherd — - flashy clothes, no crook — -
/ mean, he was one, but he never carried
one. My guess is that some young unmarried
co-ed had the kid and paid a fee
to make it disappear, you know? If he
had a regular little business going,
it wouldn't surprise me.
TALIPED: Now I'm really growing
curious to interview this pair
of shepherds. Can you fellows tell me where
this crookless crook hangs out, and what's his name?
COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: I think, sir, that this fellow is the same
you sent for a while ago.
TALIPED: He gets around!
COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: I noticed, sir, that Agenora frowned
at everything the Handsome Mailman said.
Perhaps there's something on her mind.
AGENORA: Drop dead
already! [TO TALIPED] Listen, sweetie, let's forget
this shepherd-type. Who needs him? I say let
well enough alone.
TALIPED: Indeed I won't.
I'll never get my clearance if I don't
correct my ID-card. The folks at Isthmus
won't give me the deanship if I miss
this chance to find out who I am.