Chapter 19

The phone call came in the morning. Harold received it like a prisoner receiving the call of a black hooded man in the morning. It wasn't really a supoena but rather a request to testify before Congress. Harold should have viewed it as an effort by the members of some committee to get their names in the paper and ride on his idea. Merely an effort to gain votes, increase voter appeal, and generate TV sound bites. He didn't, it was another opportunity to be embarrassed.

Just then Emily walked into the kitchen. She saw the pain in his face. The fear, she understood the fear he felt at anything new, but this expression was the one he reserved for truly hideous situations. "Honey, is there anything wrong?" She knew but felt she should hide her understanding of the obvious.

"Oh - Ugh, no, not really. Just some business stuff." Harold was looking at a muffin.

"Harold, was there a problem on the phone?" She slunk over to his chair and rubbed his neck. Her bathrobe opened just slightly exposing a bit of cleavage.

"I got a call from Washington, from Congress. They want me to testify before the space committee concerning the BioAtmospherics project. I don't know what to do." He looked as if he had just been diagnosed with terminal jock itch.

"Sweetie you'll do what you always do, You'll explain the facts and knock em dead." Emily could make up this kind of pep talk at a moments notice.

"But, it's Congress. They will want a bunch of facts." Harold played with the muffin.

"Facts, smacks. They want something to show on the evening news. Those guys have the minds of gerbils. A lot of them have a penchant for gerbils. They just want to know what is going on and they want a piece of the action. You'll swoop in; talk a bit; and swoop home. No problem." Emily rubbed his shoulders.

All Harold could see was problems. He wandered into his study and rang up George. He kicked at the carpet as he waited for the phone to ring. Finally George picked up. "George. It's Harold. I've got a problem." He was almost whispering into the receiver.

"Harold, great to hear from you. Oh what a wonderful day. I was in the pool earlier. Now a bit of sun on the terrace. What a wonderful life. Harold, why are you whispering?" George was sitting on a chaise lounge near the pool talking on a cordless phone. He was dressed only in trunks and sun glasses, his preferred business wear.

"Congress, George. I have to testify before Congress." Harold was still whispering but much more emphatically.

"Calm down, Harold. Don't spit into the phone. You'll electrocute yourself and where will we be? So you'll testify before Congress. All will be well. We will get the money Harold. Don't worry." George sipped some orange juice.

"Did you get the ideas I faxed you, George? We could drop this whole project, move someplace where nobody knows us, and just sell stuff. You promised me a job George." Harold's voice rose up a bit.

"I did look at the ideas Harold, but we are going to work on the Venus project and that is final." George was always the more persistent of the two.

"What about the idea for the cereal? That would sell wouldn't it?" Harold regularly came up with these ideas.

"Harold, that would never sell. You couldn't even get it past the censors." George once again shot them down.

"What's wrong with Breast Bits Cereal - tiny breast shaped bits of cereal that make their own milk when you add water? It's a great idea." Harold lacked a certain common sense.

"You're cracking up Harold. Calm down." George looked into the phone.

"What about the sun screen George? Both brands. A combination product." Harold was perking up. He felt this last product had real potential.

"White Boy's Sunscreen? It's never going to sell, Harold. Maybe with Nazis or in South Africa it will, but not here. People want to get tan. An SPF 50 lotion with Clorox Bleach for Whiteners is just never going to sell. And the Vampire Brand Sunscreen - for when a little sun light makes a big difference. The commercials would be fun but who would buy it Harold? Stick with the BioAtmospherics. It will work out. Look, I'll get you a ticket to Washington. You'll answer a few questions, eat a few meals and be home before you know it. You'll do great." Now George was worried. Maybe Harold was right. Maybe the gig was up. Naw. Send Harold blindly to the wolves and all would be great in La La Land. "Bye Harold". He clicked the phone off and set it down. He stood up and jumped into the pool.

Chapter 20

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