“Dad, I need you sign this.”

“Sure, son. What is it?”

“It’s a work order.”

“What’s the job?”

“I’d like the plumbers to run a line from the house a half-mile down the lawn to a spot where I want to put up a statue that also doubles as a drink dispenser.”

“Sounds fun. Solid gold?”

“Well, that might melt, wouldn’t it? I’m thinking a gold-like covering that will withstand broad sunlight, since it will be sitting unprotected.”

“Okay . . . here you go. Any reason you’re doing this?”

“Life has an aching void I cannot fill without constant, meaningless amusement.”

“Gotcha. Oooookay, here’s the work order. Bring me a frosty one when it’s done!”

“It’ll be flat and warm by the time I get up to the house, dad. You know that. But thanks for feigning interest.”