Walker looked as pleased as The Prince of Darkness at a wine tasting party in a Baptist church. Black radiated impassivity of such intensity that Grollman averted his gaze from Black’s blank look. Then a roll of distant thunder came from Lance. It gradually grew louder until everyone in the room realized that Lance was speaking.
“Bullshit.” The consonants and vowels were so drawn out that it took 10 seconds for Lance to roar the word.
Grollman was shocked beyond anything in his experience. Walker looked startled. “What did you say?” he asked.
“Bullshit.” This time there was a flash of lightning before the sound which in its turn reverberated around the room for 15 seconds.
Walker turned to Lance and hurled a rejoinder at him faster than Sandy Koufax’s fastest pitch. It was the start of Walpurgisnacht. “Bullshit bullshit.”
Quicker than an itch, Lance fired back, “Bullshit bullshit bullshit.”
“Bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit” was followed by “bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit,” etc.
And so the two best minds in American nephrology threw wicked barbs at each other in ever increasing tonnage threatening to last beyond the end of recorded time had not Gabriele Adorno Diestro rushed into the room breathless and red-cheeked. Grollman was sorry to see the debate end as he was taken with the subtlety and intricacy of their arguments.
“Did you get him?” asked Walker as if he and Lance had just been discussing whether it was cheaper to ship fertilizer via the US mail versus UPS. He was referring to the new Spanish fellow Gabby had been detailed to retrieve from the airport.
