I remember the first time I met Gregory Pantyhose the Third. He was Scottish by descent on his mother’s side, and either Greek or Scandinavian by descent on his father’s side, depending on the lucidity of his mother’s memory.
I don't know why they called him Pantyhose the Third. Maybe it was a miss-pronounciation of his real name; which I never knew anyway. He never corrected anyone calling him Pantyhose.
He always had a yesterday face. That is, he looked like he would have looked yesterday. A semi-unshaven face, like he did not shave this morning, greyish face. He obviously did shave, otherwise he would have a beard, but even though he shaved he always had a grey face as if he was about to grow a beard.
I told him I was studying the mating habits of the silverfish.
“How interesting,” he said feigning sincerity.
“Did you know,” I continued, “that the silverfish eat sugar and starch?"
He smiled and said nothing. It was difficult trying to get him interested in anything. Not to be discouraged I went on to explain, "Also, did you know that silverfish can be taught to walk in a single file if you play military music to them?"
That seemed to spark an interest because I saw his eyebrow raise for a split second.
"They live for two to eight years unless you hit them hard with a book," I remarked.
So I said, "before silverfish reproduce, they carry out a complicated ritual which may last over half an hour without the need of a relaxing drink beforehand or soft music and lights in the background.
"First the male
and female stand face to face, then
repeatedly back off and return to this position.
"In the second phase, the male runs away and the female chases him. Well that makes a change, I suppose.
"In the third phase, the silverfish have some privacy together."
"How interesting," he said again, this time with a little more sincerity, "reminds me of my Mom!"