“Welcome home,” Monty said when I entered. “Are you hungry?”
“No, I’ve already eaten,” I said. “Leave this work, I’ll finish it.”
“Why? You have me.”
This again!
“I don’t have you,” I said almost angrily. “You are neither my property nor my slave. Hell, you’re not my butler either!”
“What is hell?”
I almost laughed. This poor man still had shortcomings in the field of the simplest concepts, and it’s hard to expect anything else.
“Well,” I began explaining, “it was once believed to be a place where people suffer, but it never really existed. People still use it as a curse... a word that acts as strong accent in a speech.”
For a moment, Monty considered what he heard in silence. I already knew that when he remained silent, he digested the information received and organized it, matchi
