“But,” protested Meek, “but… but.”
“Oh, Mr. Hamilton,” exulted Miss Perkins, “you are so wonderful. You think of everything.”
“Hamilton!” squeaked Meek.
“Sure,” said Gus. “Old Gus Hamilton. Grow the finest dog-gone radiation moss you ever clapped your eyes on.”
“Then you’re the gentleman who has bugs,” said Meek.
“Now, look here,” warned Gus, “you watch what you say or I’ll hang one on you.”
“He means your rock bugs,” Moe explained, hastily.
“Oh, them,” said Gus.
“Yes,” said Meek, “I’m interested in them. I’d like to see them.”
“See them,” said Gus. “Mister, you can have them if you want them. Drove me out of house and home, they did. They’re dippy over metal. Any kind of metal, but alloys especially. Eat the stuff. They’ll tromp you to death heading for a spaceship. Got so I had to move over to another rock to live. Tried to fight it out with them, but they whipped me pure and simple. Moved out and let them have the place after they started to eat my shack right out from underneath my feet.”