“I met this guy the other day, Maury Lichtenstein,” Sam started. “You know him? He’s a philosophy major from the Bronx. He wants to be a farmer. He wants to set up a little place and raise one money crop and just what he needs to live. A little vegetable garden and a couple of pigs. A couple of calves for meat and a cow for milk and butter. Half a dozen chickens. It will make him independent. He’s got it all figured out that he can work for four hours a day, and a little longer at harvest and planting time. He’d make a good living and have all the rest of the day for study and meditation—can I have the beef and bean sprouts, please? Doesn’t that sound better than busting your ass for an insurance company all day, every day?”

Carlotta passed the platter. Sam pulled out thin morsels of meat with his chopsticks.

“You ought to tell him to read up on goats,” I said, and brandished my chopsticks. “Goats are much easier to raise than cows or sheep. They’re much smarter. They’re like mules. They don’t kill themselves by eating too much. They don’t break their legs stepping into holes. They’re resistant to diseases, and they’re totally useful. You can drink the milk and make butter and cheese out of it. You can eat the meat and use the fur for rugs and the leather for clothes. They don’t eat much and they can get by on rocks and moss. I think you can harness them to a cart, too. Besides they have a lot of personality. If you’ve got a goat around, you’re not alone.”

I didn’t know what I was talking about, of course. I’d never had much to do with goats. But with Sam, it didn’t matter what you said if you said it with authority.

Rennel shoveled in his rice and pork. He used his chopsticks surprisingly delicately.

“What a great idea!” Sam beamed. “I’ll tell Lichtenstein that. Goats! I wish I’d known there were things like that when I was a kid. I went to regular camp. It was awful. Nobody liked me there. I was so unpopular that all the other kids started calling the toilet the Sam instead of the john. They went to the Sam all summer long.”

Rennel smirked. “Well, save me some of that duck stuff for when I get back from the Omar.” He stalked off to the bathroom, waving his ass proudly. Sam chuckled.

“Once in a while he does come up with something,” I said.

“He’s so bright. You ought to give him more of a chance,” Sam said. “He’s just not too good in social situations. When it’s just two people talking he’s sharp.”

“Yeah.”