Mike Neece is one of those guys who always has a keen-witted response togive, almost like he can see into the future, listen to a conversation,then get back in time go give himself some leeway to invent a quip to stunus all. I hate people like that! It’s seldom that I can come up withsomething funny off the proverbial cuff. Not Mike. He’s the guy whodecided in the middle of one conversation that, if he ever had a daughter,he would name her Knobby. I don’t remember the context, but, after hesaid that, he was the only one standing up-right.

This guy’s mind was so sharp that one time I commented that green beansand peas are pretty much alike, when you think about it. I was thinkingabout the fact that, when you break a bean open, you can see that it, too,has little seeds inside, just like a pea pod, and, in fact, you can eat apea pod whole, just like you can a bean. When Mike heard me say thatthough, he said, "You’re right, A. J." Then he listed no fewer thanten rapid-fire distinctions between beans and peas, and concludedironically, "So, yeah. I guess that they are pretty much the samething."Of course, such humour can be helpful. I’ll never forget one time he andI were sitting in our university’s music department student lounge. Therewere a bunch of other students with us, all of us friends, one of whom wasDarren Tyndale, who was a brilliant pianist, but not so bright when it cameto witty repartee. Darren was showing off a new electronic keyboard thathe’d just purchased. He was going to use it to help him with his musicalcompositions when he didn’t have a piano handy. It was no longer thantwelve inches, but had some 55 keys on it. Impressive. Everybody else inthe room was surprised by the tiny size and making comments on how handy itwould be. "Gee, it’s small enough to fit in a purse!" one girl said.(This was in the early 90’s, folks.) To which Darren boisterouslyresponded, "That’s no all I have that’s small!" Of course he meantto say something clever and masculine and male and macho, if you get mymeaning. Maybe he had some sort of oral dyslexia, or something.Everyone in the room dummied up instantly. I remember thinking, "Thankyou, Darren that YOU said that, not me!" while everyone’s eyes dancedback and forth, and I imagine they were all thinking, "How the hell arewe going to get passed this?" It was Mike who broke the silence:"You’re the only guy I know who brags about it, Darren." Everyonelaughed mildly, and the tension in the room evaporated like a geniedisappearing into his lamp.This is the mind I pitted myself against one afternoon as I was finishinglunch with him. As I swallowed the last bite of my banana, I held up theempty peal and said earnestly, "Mike, I appeal to you." In my mind, Iwas daring him to top that one on the spot, but he didn’t even flinch. Idon’t know if he was in character, speaking to me as some king sentencinga peasant to death or if he felt genuinely sorry for my feeble attempt at aclever pun, but he put his hand on my shoulder and, with great compassion,said to me, "A. J., your appeal is fruitless."What else could I say? I dropped my peal onto my tray and stormed out ofthe cafeteria. I’ve not tried to challenge him since, and I double-dogdare any of you to.