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A tickler makes you rest, you know it's one of the great things about it. Pooh-Bah's kinder to me than I ever was to myself." He buttoned open a tiny refrigerator and took out two waxed cardboard cubes and handed one to Gusterson. "Martini? Hope you don't mind drinking from the carton. Cheers. Now, Gussy old pal, there are two matters I want to take up with you "
He had the feeling that every one of the eight dual beings in the room was hanging on his answer and that something was boring into his mind and turning over his next thoughts and peering at and under them before he had a chance to scan them himself. Pooh-Bah's eye was like a red searchlight. "Go on," Fay prompted. "What were ticklers supposed to be for themselves?"
There's nothing to them at all. Pooh-Bah's precis, which he's just given to me, proves it." "Look," Gusterson said solemnly, "there's one thing I want you to do. Purely to humor an old friend. But I want you to do it. Read that memo yourself." "Certainly I will, Gussy," Fay continued in the same ebullient tones. "I'll read it " he twitched and his smile disappeared "a little later."
"Pooh-Bah will do a better job than I could," Fay assured him. "Get the gist without losing the chaff." "But dammit, it's all about him," Gusterson said a little more strongly. "He won't be objective about it." "A better job," Fay reiterated, "and more fully objective. Pooh-Bah's set for full precis. Stop worrying about it.
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