I began the questioning. "Are you ready? What is tobacco?" "Tragic," Horiki answered promptly. "What about medicine?" "Powder or pills?" "Injection." "Tragic." "I wonder. Don't forget, there are hormone injections too." "No, there's no question but it's tragic. First of all, there's a needle— what could be more tragic than a needle?" "You win. But, you know, medicines and doctors are, surprisingly enough, comic. What about death?" "Comic. And that goes for Christian ministers and Buddhist priests, too." "Bravo ! Then life must be tragic?"
"Wrong. It's comic, too." "In that case everything becomes comic. Here's one more for you. What about cartoonist? You couldn't possibly call it a comic noun, could you?" "Tragic. An extremely tragic noun." "What do you mean? Extremely tragic is a good description of you." Any game which can drop to the level of such abysmal jokes is despicable, but we were very proud of what we considered to be an extremely witty diversion, never before known in the salons of the world. I had invented one other game of a rather similar character, a guessing game of antonyms. The antonym of black is white. But the antonym of white is red. The antonym of red is black. I asked now, "What's the antonym of flower?" Horiki frowned in thought. "Let me see. There used to be a restaurant called the 'Flower Moon'. It must be moon." "That's not an antonym. It's more of a synonym. Aren't star and garter synonymous? It's not an antonym." "I've got it. It's bee." "Bee?"
