"I think we really have a problem," he said, in his Jovian voice.  "The innocent creatures we represent have too long chafed under your yoke.  Their grievances are many and . . . well, grievous."

If David had a weakness, that was it.  He wasn't the world's greatest speaker.  I think he grew worse every year, as language became more of a philosophical burden to him.  One of the planks of his platform-when the millennium was achieved-was the abolition of language.  He wanted us all to sing like the birdies sing.

"To name only one," he boomed on, "you are one of only three murderers of dinosaurs who-"

"Ranchers," Callie said.

"-who persist in using the brontosaur's natural enemy as a means of instilling terror into-"

"Herding," Callie gritted.  "And no t-saur of mine has ever so much as put a scratch on a stinking b-saur."

"If you persist in interrupting me, we'll never get anywhere," David said, with a loving smile.

"No one will stand there are call me a murderer on my own land.  There are courts of libel, and you're about to get dragged into one."

They regarded each other across the fire, knowing that ninety-nine percent of threats and accusations made here were simply wind, tossed out to gain an advantage or disconcert an opponent-and hating each other so thoroughly that I never knew when one would put a threat into action.  Callie's face reflected her opinions.  David merely smiled, as if to say he loved Callie dearly, but I knew him better than that.  He hated her so much that he inflicted himself on her every five years, and I can think of little more cruel than that.

"We must seek closer communion with our friends," David said, abruptly, and turned and walked away from the fire, leaving his minion to trail along ignominiously behind him.

Callie sighed when he vanished into the darkness.  She stood up, stretched, boxed the air, getting the kinks out.  Bargaining is tough on the whole mind and body, but the best thing to bring to the table is a tough bottom.  Callie rubbed hers, and leaned over the cooler she had brought with her.  She tossed me a can of beer, got one for herself, and sat on the cooler.

"It's good to see you," she said.  "We didn't get a chance to talk the last time you were here."  She frowned, remembering.  "Come to think of it, you took off without any warning.  We got to my office, you were gone.  What happened?"

"A lot of things, Callie.  That's what I came here for, to . . . to talk them over with you, if I could.  See if you could offer me some advice."