Of Belts and Ties

Every Friday night, Stanley goes to New Edisons. It's sort of a Boy Scouts for geeks. Instead of earning badges in things like knot tying, fly fishing, and birdhouse making, they make telegraph stations, analyze the patterns on butterfly wings, and make pickles glow with electricity. Instead of summer campouts, they listen to lectures from Isaac Asimov.

When I picked him up last night, Stanley tossed his battered satchel into the back seat and crawled in after it. Stanely started carrying the satchel after he found it in the attic of his best friend's, Leonard Bell's, house. They didn't want it, so he claimed it and has used it ever since while his backpack lies unused under his bed.

He was unusually quiet and, looking into the rearview mirror, I immediately noticed something amiss.

"Where's your tie."

"I needed a belt."

"Like an engine belt?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot.

"No, like a belt to hold up my pants."

I considered the options, then ventured to ask, "Where's your belt?"

"Lenny needed it."

"For what?"

A sigh.

"To hold up his pants."

I knew I was digging myself in, but couldn't help myself.

"Where was his belt?"

"He didn't have a belt."

"And he didn't notice this before coming to New Edisons?"

"Martin," he said with another sigh. "Are you trying to be difficult?"

"No," I replied honestly.

"He didn't need a belt before coming to New Edisons."

"Weren't his pants falling down before coming, then? Or did he lose lots of weight over the past two hours?"

"His pants had elastic, Martin."

"So why did he need a belt then?"

"We needed the elastic."

I was starting to understand Stanely's train of logic, which gave me cause for concern.

"What did you need the elastic for," I asked.

"For a belt. A belt drive, like for an engine."

"Of course you did."

We drove on for a few minutes in silence and then, just as we were turning the corner onto our street, Stanley spoke up again.

"Just so you know, I'm over time zones."

"Over them?"

"Yeah. I'm still interested in them, but I've pretty much got them figured out."

"I'd noticed you hadn't asked much about them lately," I said.

"Yeah. I figured you weren't in any position to teach me more than I knew anyway," he said.

"So, what are you onto now, then?"

"I'm working on it," he said. "I'll let you know."

We pulled into the driveway then, and that was that. Stanley and the satchel went in the front door without another word.