Kirk shot Arnold a nasty look. “Mr. Arnak, you would not like to go, for this reason: Kirk (that’s me), the Punchy begat by Punchy Murdoch, doesn’t like the idea at all.”
“What does Punchy Murdoch think of the idea?” Mitchum asked slyly.
“Mr. Blue,” Kirk answered, “me and my father think alikes on this issue.”
“How convenient,” Mitchum mumbled.
“That’s a bummer, Kirk,” Arnold began again, “‘cause I wanted to go!”
Kirk looked away. “Put it from thou mind.”
Humphrey, the red Punchy spoke up, “Kirk, when’s Punchy Murdoch’s birthday, hmm?”
Kirk seemed pleased with the question. “Tomorrow.”
“Isn’t your birthday tomorrow?” Mitchum asked.
Kirk started. He was trapped. “Well…yes…yes, it is.”
“How can this be?” Mitchum asked, thinking, I’m sure, that he had finally got Kirk between a rock and a hard place.
Kirk stammered for a response. “I…well…it’s…” Then he found his footing and smiled. “Punchy Murdoch was born on the same day as me. The sages–to this day–call it remarkable.”
“So do I…” Mitchum mumbled.
“Shouldn’t it be…” Humphrey began, “that you were born on the same day as Punchy Murdoch, not the other way around?”
“Same thing,” Kirk answered.
The Punchies were silent.