“The Christians,” insisted Partment.
“It wasazúcar de plomo. Sugar of lead,” Bennie interjected, an
expert on traditional alchemy.
“What?” said Colin.
“Lead acetate,” he explained, “They sweetened their wine with it.
It ate away their brains.”
“Sugar of lead,” Partment repeated, “We should put it in
Biddenbrooks coffee. Wipe out his civilization.”
“But all we want to do is wipe out Bidden,” Niles protested.
“Well, then,” Leona said, “Let’s get started.”
“Viva la revolución!” Bennie exulted.
“Guerilla warfare!” Colin exclaimed, “Hiding in the trees.
Planting mines! Sniper fire at eleven o’clock!” He executed a clumsy
somersault across the floor and crashed into a table.
“Honestly, though,” said Leona. “Bidden will crush us like bugs.”
“Bugs!” Partment proclaimed with pride, “We should be so
lucky.”
Like all good revolutionaries, Partment loved bugs. He loved how
seamlessly they all worked together, rapidly demolishing trees,
carrying the leaves back to their dens with military efficiency. Bugs
could be crushed. But working together, they could never be
overcome.
He said, “After the next big catastrophe, bugs will inherit the
earth.”
Colin stood up, moderately stunned but as full of Shiva as ever.
“Well, if there’s one thing we’re sure to be good at,” he announced
forthrightly, “it’s probably catastrophe.”
3. Bro
Roy was not unfamiliar with the principle.
“Where have you been, Roy G. Biv?” Colin welcomed him,
already three cocktails into his breakfast. “We’ve been mobilizing
troops, drawing up battle plans.”
“Oh really?” Roy replied coldly.
“What happened to you? You wearing makeup?”
He wiped at the stubborn remnants of chicken blood still on his
face. “Why didn’t you pick up the fucking phone?”
“I did. After you left, my Dad called again. After I told him to fuck
ABYSSINIA
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