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"That's a lot of toilet paper there Ralph. Just how long do you think this apocalypse thing is going to last?"
"It may be toilet paper now, bud, but when Armageddon hits, it'll be gold dust."
I didn't understand. "I don't understand," I said.
"Well, dollars aren't going to be much use to anyone, are they."
"No, I guess not."
"So that's where things like toilet paper come in."
"Too small."
"What?"
"Dollar bills would be too small, wouldn't they. And hard too, I would think."
"No, you idiot, I'm talking about barter. It's on the website. It tells you to store stuff people are going to want to use for barter when the cash economy collapses."
"Oh." I decided to overlook his rudeness. He was clearly upset about the squirrel.
"Where's that wife of yours?" he asked, without looking up from the nut he was tightening. She sure took off in a hurry?"
Ralph and Margaret had had a somewhat strained relationship, almost from the day we moved in. Ralph refused to have a TV in his house, as it would expose him to the dangers of a vast conspiracy of the liberal media elite, consisting of subliminal messages designed to turn him into a homosexual, broadcast even when the TV was off and unplugged from the wall. He did however like to watch the live-action cop shows broadcast on the Fox network, and every evening he strolled across the yard to our house and stayed late, drinking beer in front of the television, sometimes even after Margaret and I had gone to bed. This upset Margaret, but, as I explained to her, it was hard to see what I could do without being unneighborly. At last she had taken matters into her own hands, marching into the living room, snatching the controls and switching to PBS, which was broadcasting a modern dance recital from the New York Ballet. Ralph had left quickly, clutching his temples and humming loudly.
"She just went to her mother's," I said, as Ralph rose stiffly from the wheel. "She'll be back in a few days when I get the air conditioner fixed." I told him about how well she had responded to my delegation of the soap responsibility. I could see he was impressed.
Ralph cleaned his hands on an old rag, and I helped him carry the toilet paper into the house. Then we went to look at his shelter. The hole was bigger now and in it there were some large bags of cement.
"Are you going to have a toilet in the shelter?" I asked.
"I don't know. I thought I could just go in the house."
"Won't that be dangerous? Desperate men could surround your shelter and strike when you go to the toilet. Especially if they know you're carrying toilet paper."
I left Ralph stroking his chin thoughtfully and staring into his hole.
It was a pity that I wasn't able to find any information on the Internet that would have allowed me to fix the air conditioner myself. If I had, the ensuing catas
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