How can you be so naïve? they wondered at each other.

“I’m sharing this with you because I think you’re not a complete nose bag,” Old Spots offered.

“Your faith is inspiring.”

“I’m trying to get your head in the game, Mitch.”

There was a knock. Old Spots turned to the interloper. “What’s shaking, Shaggy.”

“Pardon?” Alfonzo said.

“Be good, chief.” And with that the pig departed.

“Thanks for stopping by, Leonard!” Mitchell called out.

“Should I be offended?” Alfonzo asked his friend. “I’m confused.”

“Oh, buddy, you saved me,” Mitchell hummed.

7.

Alfonzo slumped into Mitchell’s office. “I’m in trouble.”

“Your haircut?”

“Be. Nice.”

“Not to take the pig’s side, but he does have a point.”

“Brother, don’t.”

“I mean, I’m no barber, but I could take a whack.”

It was Mitchell’s philosophy that friends should tease each other about trivial foibles but then also fight to the death to protect each other from real external threats. The herd was sacred, but within the group there was a nice, consistent padding of emotionally distancing banter—that was his style.

“Remember when you sold your wool to pay for textbooks?”

“Thank you for bringing up a humiliating moment. You know you could have talked me out of it.”

“Whatever, it grew back and your baldness provided months of comedy.”

“I’m glad my poverty was so funny. But I didn’t come to rehash the history of my grooming.”

They tapped this vein of banter often. Another precept of Mitchell’s philosophy of friendship was that one must revel in repetition. Everyone was repetitive. The longer you knew someone, the more times you had to listen to him sing his hit songs. Everyone had a finite repertoire. Some friends sang of heartbreak, others of aggravation. Sometimes you sang together, other times you listened to them solo. That was conversation. Alfonzo’s core sonic theme was self-recrimination. He had the habit of letting any one moment of disappointment become an opportunity to tally all shortcomings. One snappy chorus went something like “I’m a failure and this is a disaster.” Mitchell knew all his friend’s songs by heart.

“So, to what new rock bottom do I owe the pleasure?”

“I know you’re going to judge, and you should. But, as you know, I’m trying to print my dissertation. I’m most of the way done, but…”

“Okay.”