"What are you so mad about?"
He looked annoyed, and a little startled. "Brother, if you only knew—" He raised his glass, and then stopped and set it on the table. "Wait a minute. Maybe I ought to tell you. Maybe I ought to let the two of us worry about it, instead of just me. Maybe you should print it in that newspaper of yours."
"I'm willing to listen, anyway."
"Sure! Why not? I'm just beginning to experience that rosy sensation, that warm feeling of camaraderie they keep stoppered up in bottles. It's the only place on this planet you can find it."
"Don't be cynical."
"Maybe I should bust out laughing. The whole thing's really funny; it's the funniest thing I've ever heard."
"We'd better go."
"Sure, let's go. But first—you want to see something really funny? Here."
He took a pair of glasses from his pocket and handed them to me. They seemed like ordinary shell-rimmed glasses, though the lenses were tinted a slight blue.