“Mr. Scott, is it true that chewing gum is made out of cat guts?”
The question floated up in the midst of a quiet, productive moment. It was, in a word, a gift.
“Of course,” I answered, deadpan. “What else would it be made out of?” I was wondering how long I could keep the straight face.
“Really?” She wasn’t buying it, and quite frankly, she shouldn’t have: I’m a bad liar.
“Seriously.”
A pause as she searched my face for some sign of deceit.
“Would I lie to you?” I asked, still holding the straight face.
“Yes!” she laughed.
At that moment, a young man seated behind me stood up, marched to the garbage can, and violently spat out his gum.
That question was a gift, I tell you.
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