Marquel read the article, conscious of the fact that someone at the Times grew up in the sixties and has been using partial sayings like “up against the wall”, without the kicker, which in this case was “mother fucker.”
The Times said, “Things roost in his brain and come out of his mouth and Twitter feed, and before you know it, the federal government is taking proposals for Mr. Trump’s great border wall with Mexico. Hundreds of companies are expressing interest, preparing designs, creating renderings. Finalists are to be announced in June.”
Mufi smiled, “city pigeon tracheas.”
“Oh yes. Only city. You have to catch them in the street.” Said Mufi.
“Just the trachea. Takes many many city pigeons. Wrap them, age them, spice, then cook for two weeks.” Informed Mufi.
“Yes. Circled the country. Then in the sixteenth century, the Mongols breached it. We sent a bill to Mexico but they never answered.” He said.
“To the contrary. I have a patent on a wall that would work.” Noted Mufi.
“I have three thousand patents,” said Mufi, disappearing into his kitchen. He reappeared with a box.
“Everything. Some in cooking techniques. A few on rockets. NASA licensed those. But the one on the wall is right here,” he said, pulling out a ribbon emblazoned document.
“Basically an electric fence. Two thousand miles long. You could do it retail for one thousandth of the cost trump is allocating. He wants twenty billion or more.” Said Mufi.
“Well prices have changed since I got the patent. Let me Google it. Here’s one for $265 including a thousand feet of wire, a transmitter and collar. So a thousand feet into two thousand miles is…5280…10,560,000…
10560…times 265…total cost, $2,798,400. Three million dollars for an invisible fence clear across the country. No ecological damage, no cultural divisions, no problems . We save twenty billion.”
“The fence is buried and activated. The collars go on all the Mexicans. But we pay for it so no hurt feelings. Anyone who approaches gets the shock of his life because we file down the electrodes just a bit.”
“Sure,” said Mufi, taking one of my tracheas and starting chewing. “It’s happened before. For five hundred years, European serfs wore collars of various kinds. Some metal, some leather, some just horsehair. So it can work. I’ve submitted my patent. “
“To the government. They said they’d let me know by June 1st.” he said modestly.
“Oh yes. They are surprised by the low price and there’s been a bit of back and forth. I had to include the labor of digging the trench to put the wire in. Added a million.” Mufi complained.
“They’re fine with it. They say it serves them right for not paying. And I get a ton in royalties.”