“It’s just so goddamn hot.” They stood, sweltering under twin suns.
“Try to ignore it.”
“In dress uniform? This thing is wool!”
“It’s not wool. You only think it’s wool. It’s artificial. It’s a polymer or something.”
“Anyhow, it feels like wool.”
There was a commotion across the square. “Here they come. Remember, the Prime Minister is the one with the gray hair and the bushy tail.”
“Are we bowing?”
“No, not this time. Apparently it’s a grievous insult.”
“Of course it is. It’s always something.”
“Yep. Okay, straighten up now. And remember to smile.”
“God, I hate first contact.”
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