We were talking about Snoopy. “He hangs out on top of a dog house, is a writer, pretends he’s flying a plane, and has a yellow bird friend Woodstock. That’s all I know,” I said. “Is that all there is, to know?”
Ming said something about the plane.
“It’s a tri-plane?” I asked. “It’s a three-winged plane?”
“Yeah,” Ming said,
“Why does it need three wings?” I asked. We discussed wings for a while.
Then, “Was he a good guy?” I asked.
“Depends on what side of the war you’re on,” Ming said.
“Did they switch sides halfway?” I asked.
“No,” Ming said.
“Was he the Red Baron?” There was a Red Baron pizza place we went to, when I was a kid.
“No, he was fighting the Red Baron.” Let me not become that which I despise. Funny how who you are and who you’re fighting can get mixed up. Kinda like the victim-abuser-rescuer triangle.
“Who’s the Red Baron?”
“He was a German.”
“Was he a bad guy? What war was this?”
“It was World War I.”
“When was World War I? Was that the shot heard round the world?”
“No, I think that was the Revolutionary War.”
“Really? I coulda sworn it was World War I. Didn’t somebody get assassinated?”
“Yeah, that was the anarchists.”
“The guy who got assassinated was an anarchist?”
“No, he was assassinated by anarchists.”
“Why’d they kill him? Because he took away their dumpster?” I started laughing. I was lying in bed with Bunny, holding paws with him. That shows you what kind of anarchist I am. Dumpster anarchist. I think Bunny is a dumpster anarchist too.
Then at my request, Ming got on his phone and looked up the shot heard round the world, for me. He was right–it was the Revolutionary War.
“Does the other shot have a cute phrase?” I asked. Maybe we should make up a cute phrase for that one.
Later, “Smells all bagel-y in here,” I told Ming, as I passed thru the kitchen. “Smells good. Sometimes Snoopy does a little dance also. A happy dance.”
“Yeah, he does.”