"You can't just throwaway an opportunity like this," said his father, glowering at him from the head of the breakfast table. "With a Harevard education, you can do anything you want-to."

"But I can do what I want to without it," said Zigger, with a forkful of synveggies halfway to his mouth. "Besides, if I'm good enough to get in now, I'll still be good enough after I've served a term in the Legion. And they let you save up your pay to cover college expenses. It's a really smelliferous deal, Dad!"

"It smells pretty bad to me," muttered Zigger's dad.

"Now, Oswald, you know that's just the slang these youngsters' use nowadays." Said his mother, in a conciliatory tone. "When he says smelliferous, he just means it's very shuropteous."

"Well, why doesn't he say so, then?" said Oswald.

"Have to get a dictionary to figure out what kids mean these days."

"What I mean is that I'm not going to Harevard." said Zigger. "Not until I find out if I can make it in the Legion. It's the only thing I've always wanted. You know that, Dad."

Oswald shook his head, started to say something, then took a deep breath. "You know what? I think I'm going to let you do it..."

"Yaay!" cheered Zigger, hopping out of his seat and prancing around the table.

"... With a couple of conditions," his father continued.

"First, if you get accepted to Harevard and if they agree to hold a place for you while you complete one tour of duty in the Legion. If you still want to stay in the Legion after that, I guess there's not much I can do for you."

"I'll accept those conditions, Dad," said Zigger, pausing in his celebratory dance. "They don't matter, anyhow. All I've ever wanted is to join the Legion."