"All locked up," Malone said. "Sure. I'll love it."
"If you want to go out," Burris said, "you can go out. Anywhere. Just do whatever you feel like doing."
Malone sighed. "O.K.," he said. "When do the men in the white coats arrive?"
"White coats?" Burris said. There was a short silence. "Kenneth," he said, "don't suspect me of trying to do anything to you. This is my way of doing you a favor. It would just be a vacation—going anywhere you want to go, doing anything you want to do."
"Avacado," Malone muttered at random.
Burris stared. "What?"
"Nothing," Malone said shamefacedly. "An old song. It runs through my mind. And when you said that about going where I want to go—"
"An old song with avacados in it?" Burris said.
Malone cleared his throat and burst into shy and slightly hoarse song.
"Avacado go where you go," he piped feebly, "do what you do—"