Wherein our hero holds congress with a neighboring proprietor, renders judgments upon the state of his plantation, and imparts a valuable moral lesson.
Josiah: That is one weathered whip you’re brandishing, my friend.
Nathaniel: Yeah. It’s vintage.
Josiah: As long as it gets the job done.
Nathaniel: I guess. You know it’s funny, I used to be so against whipping my slaves. I was all like, everyone else just whips the shit out of their slaves, how is it funny and original if I do too? But now it’s like so trendy to whip your slave that it’s almost more ironic for me to partake -- just to reiterate the absurdity of how ubiquitous it’s become.
Josiah: Okay…well, Mary-Anna wanted me to remind you about our picnic. Over yonder near the waterfall. In a fortnight.
Nathaniel: Yeah. We’re in. I think you should tell people to bring their own reusable silverware and flatware though. Not to be a green nazi, but you know, little shit like that makes a difference.
Josiah: We were fixing to use wheatware.
Nathaniel: Even better. I gotta bounce though. Phone-banking for Obama.