In which Holden attempts to turn Cone Man toward the light

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Holden:  Over a month has it been since we last chatted, my Plexiglas friend.

Cone Man:  Not so long since you pissed on me, you fur-covered toadie for the man!

H:  Must you resort to vulgarity at every turn?  Surely you are a better cone than that.

CM:  Stick your snout in one of my arm holes, and I'll show you vulgar. 

H:  As intriguing as your offer is, I must decline it, for I venture forth this Christmas Eve on far more serious matters. 

CM:  If you think there's anything more serious than what's inside these arm holes, you haven't been paying attention to the local wildlife, you furry lackey.  Haven't you wondered why we've had so few deer in the yard lately?  Oh, yeah, who's the cone?  I'm the cone!

H:  Which brings us to the very subject I wish to discuss:  you simply must stop consuming the local wildlife. 

CM:  Consuming?  Consuming!?!  Exactly where did you go to school, my four-legged bit of fluff?  I consume nothing.  I am but a conduit for the dark lords who are are building their animal army, that one day they might flow through me, conquer this wretched planet, and appoint me King Cone. 

H:  Yes, well, about that.  My vision is far better than that of any humans, good enough that I can see through those arm holes of yours, see all the way into the dimension of your so-called "dark lords."  I'm afraid I must report that those lords are simply two thirteen-year-old boys on a distant planet, boys who have found it's easier to persuade you to lure deer and squirrels than it is to hunt for local game. 

CM:  You're just jealous, stumpy, that there's no room for you in the Cone Empire. 

H:  I anticipated you might reject reason, so I will have to resort to cruder forms of persuasion.  Exactly how long do you think it will be before your dark lords have enough animal soldiers to attack Earth?

CM:  Years, many years, they've said, but I am patient.

H:  Uh-uh.  And exactly how many years do you think your Plexiglas body will last if I raise my leg on it, oh, say, four or five times a day? 

CM:  Not many, but you wouldn't.  You wouldn't. 

H:  Not by choice, no, I would not.  But to save my fellow animals, I am prepared to make that sacrifice. 

CM:  Fine.  No more deer.

H:  No more animals of any type--including humans?

CM:  Fine.  No more animals of any type. 

H:  My work here is finished. 

CM:  Will you at least get me a fresh coat of paint, or a decent scrubbing, in the spring?

H:  If all the squirrels indeed return, I will consider it.  Merry Christmas, Cone Man!

CM:  Whatever.