Mrs. Reilly looked at her son slyly and asked, 'Ignatius, you sure you not a communiss?'
'Oh, my God!' Ignatius bellowed. 'Every day I am subjected to a McCarthyte witchhunt in this crumbling building. No! I told you before. I am not a fellow traveler. What in the world has put that into your head?'
'I read someplace in the paper where they got plenty communiss at college.'
'Well, fortunately I didn't meet them. Had they crossed my path, they would have beaten to within an inch of their lives. Do you think that I want to live in a communal society with people like that Battaglia acquaintance of yours, sweeping streets and breaking up rocks or whatever it is people are always doing in those blighted countries? What I want is a good, strong monarchy with a tasteful and decent king who has some knowledge of theology and geometry and to cultivate a Rich Inner Life.'
John Kennedy Toole, A Confederacy of Dunces.
