“That’s it in a nutshell, Jim, I’m afraid you just don’t have much choice.”

“What’s it?”

“You know, all of it—the whole kit and caboodle.”

“I… uh… I’m not sure I understand.”

“You don’t have to understand, man. I mean, you could wait until the cows come home and it wouldn’t change anything.”

“But I don’t have any cows.”

“No, no. That’s just an expression. It means a long time … or something like that.”

“My grandpa had cows. He used to swear at them a lot. I swore at our dog once. And then my mom swore at me for swearing at the dog. I had to wash my mouth out with soap, but she didn’t. I never understood that either.”

“Uh … let me see if I can put this another way … without beating around the bush.”

“Hold on now, there’s no reason to be uncivil!”

“Bollux, Jim, do you even comprehend the gravitas of the sticky wicket you’re mired in?”

“Perhaps not … but what does it have to do with cricket?”

“Huh?”

“You know, the sport of cricket, played throughout the Empire. I love that game!”

“You’re pulling my leg, right?”

“Of course not, I’m sitting right here.”

“Okay, that’s it, the last straw. I’m obviously barking up the wrong tree and it’s the skin of your teeth, not mine. And to add insult to injury, you’re as clueless as a kangaroo in a hardware store.

“Well, you are right about that. I don’t have Clue. Would you like to play Stratego?”