Having considered the problem outlined by Ms. la Musa’s counsel, Ms. Leticia Ladrona, I have come to the following conclusion: to wit, that (1) Mr. Slack has recovered his “deteriorating” mind and, as a corollary, (2) that he shall herewith be allowed, indeed encouraged, to return to his duties as the presumptive nominee for the office of Vice President of these United States of America (VPOTUSA).
Herewith the method I employed in arriving at this conclusion. First I considered the situation in as profound a way as I could imagine: Mr. Slack was lying on the floor adjacent to the barstool of Ms. Leticia Ladrona. He was not moving. Perhaps, I thought, he might be dead. But then I reconsidered this possibility, with the sticking point being that a so-called “resurrected” person could not possibly be dead. I reflected on this problem for a good half an hour: How could a formerly dead person, and one that I had been instrumental in returning to life, then turn around and once again revert to his last former state, that is, death? My conclusion was that this so-called “possibility” was in fact impossible, both in logic and in empirical fact. From this I concluded that there must be something wrong with the so-called “corpse” we of the KRT had fondly grown to call “Orville Slack, the Fourth”! Then, considering the facts that (1) Mr. Slack, as he occupied a small section of the floor adjacent to Ms. Ladrona’s barstool, was composed of a high grade of sturdy aluminum (admixed, of course, with some well-preserved ashes) and that (2) the locomotion and otherwise functioning of this odd admixture of aluminum and ash was dependent upon electric circuitry—considering these facts, I say, the probable cause of his ill-presumed “death” was that there was a glitch (pardon my reversion to the vernacular) in said circuitry.
Having come so far in my methodological considerations, and being in a state of stoical excitement, I next carefully hoisted Mr. Slack from the floor adjacent to the barstool lately occupied by Ms. Ladrona, sat down on the recently abandoned stool with the putative “corpse” on my lap, and checked the aforementioned circuitry for flaws. (All this while my confrères were standing around me, breathless with expectation.) Then, to my surprise and delight, a slight move of my right index finger on the aluminum pate of said “corpse” brought forth a torrent of words, many of them oaths, from the loudspeaker I had installed on the “face” of this remarkable robot just three days ago!
“Drinks on the house!” cried Ms. la Musa as I placed the now very lucid piece of machinery on the floor, ambling about the saloon with an extended right arm, offering his hand to any and all who would extend their own upper appendages in a gesture that in recent years has come to be styled the “high five.”
And so it was that what had a mere half an hour earlier been the contemporary equivalent of a hanging posse became something akin to a veritable homecoming parade.