“I feel like I could have done some more yoinking.”

“Nothing else yoinkable, Mick. Be grateful for the sweatshirt. 100% cotton, but it’s been pre-shrunk. The pouch in front will bear your hands, or stash, or secrets. You could maybe keep a dream journal in there, I dunno, something positive and creative. And the hood, Mick! For thousands of years, only the wealthiest and most powerful men had hoods. You had to be a king, or French, or whatever to get a hood. Nowadays, sweatshirts just come with ’em. That’s progress. The gradual democratization of fashion is the secret history of the world.”

“Yeah, okay, but I wanna yoink some rum.”

“That’s not yoinking. That’s stealing.”

“No, no, no. The booze-yoink. That’s when I stand in a bar until someone recognizes me and pays for my drinks.”

“Mickey, we ate a lot of mushrooms. Don’t put rum on top of that.”

“Why not? It sounds delicious.”

“I agree. The scents would entice your nostrils into making love to your taste buds. Full-on face orgy.”

“Are we really early, or did the game end an hour ago?”

“We’re early, Mick.”

“Okay. I thought so, but I wanted your take on it.”