So I typed and typed and typed, and while typing, hoped I would be done typing soon so I could have another conversation.
Ding, the bell sounded, and the storm of tap-dancing subsided.
"So, what did you write about?"
He was in the process of lighting up another cigarette when I asked, so I breathed up that smelly goodness.
"Peanuts, exchanging opinions about the meaning of life before they're turned into peanut butter."
"Well that's interesting."
"It's about a country that became full of pussies. You know, those people that whine and want attention because they broke a nail, or got bitten by a non-lethal bug. Anyways, it got so full of pussies, it looked like there might have been a problem, but instead of leading to an irresponsible and unproductive society, it created opportunity for special services and employment that catered and serviced fancy pantsed people, who were able to get all the attention they wanted."
"Good critique. Earth?"
"Yeah. That's why I left originally. Got to full of pussies. Decided I had enough when they started running the world too."
"We never had a problem with that on Pluto. The motto there was, 'No work, no pay,'" so he took a drag, "Or maybe it was, 'Go the whole mile, or sit in a ditch and die,'" so he took another drag, and stared very hard at nothing, "it was something like that anyway."
"That's the way it should be."
So I leaned back in my booth and thought back on Earth, and what a wonderful place it used to be.
It was on his third cigarette when faceless voids barged into the room of typists. There was utter silence, quieter than a room full of inoperable typewriters. It was quieter than a room full of unmanned, inoperable typewriters. Point being, it was quiet.