“Like it? Well, I don’t see why I oughtn’t to like it. Does the GOP get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?”

That put the thing in a new light. Marco Rubio stopped nibbling his apple. Jeb Bush swept his brush daintily back and forth – stepped back to note the effect – added a touch here and there – criticized the effect again – Rubio watched every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said:
“Say, Jeb, let me whitewash a little.”

Jeb considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind:
“No – no – I reckon it wouldn’t hardly do, Rubio. You see, Dick Cheney’s awful particular about the truth about the Iraq War– right here on the street, you know. Yes, he’s awful particular about this story; it’s got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain’t one media outlet in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it’s got to be done.”

“No – is that so? Oh come, now, lemme, just try. Only just a little – I’d let you, if you was me, Jeb.”

“Rubio, I’d like to, honest injun; but Dick Cheney – well, Scott Walker wanted to do it, but he wouldn’t let him; Lindsey Graham wanted to do it, and he wouldn’t let him. Now don’t you see how I’m fixed? If you was to tackle this whitewash, and anything was to happen to it”.

“Oh, shucks, I’ll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say – I’ll give you the core of my apple.”
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“Well, here – No, Rubio, now don’t. I’m afeard – ”

“I’ll give you all of it!”

Jeb gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; media outlets happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Rubio was fagged out, Jeb had traded the next chance to Graham for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Fox bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with – and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Jeb was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles,part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn’t unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a dog-collar – but no dog – the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash.

He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while – plenty of company – and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn’t run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village.
Jeb said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it – namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign.

Jeb mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report.”

 

(Almost Mark Twain)