And a high-speed internet connection, he added on consideration. Ah. Not Cape Town, then... Oh, and a coffee machine.
The Cow rolled her eyes. Scope creep never failed to manifest. If a genie popped out of a bottle, and offered three wishes, almost everyone would want to use one wish to request a whole bunch more wishes.
Of course, genies can be terribly literal, so one would need to specify the beer to go into the cold place, the food - and any tools needed for preparation - to go into the microwave, and the TV on which to view DSTV. As well as, if the additional items were allowed, the computer and modem for the internet, and the coffee beans for the coffee machine.
And, of course, the infrastructural requirements - the electricity, the phone lines or iBurst, the running water... This was going to be quite some hole. The Cow thought perhaps linking up with Osama bin Laden might be the way to go, as at least he had the means to bankroll some home comforts in his cave.
"That won't work!" sneered Gramsci. "He's feeling crowded, remember? Sharing a cave with Osama would require him to spend his days tripping over Al Jazeera journalists,CIA spies, spiritual and military advisors, and Osama's old family friends, the Bushes. That could get seriously crowded!"
The
Cow had to concede the point. Fighting teenagers off your stash of beer
was no doubt easier than winning an argument with the Taliban over your
right to drink it, at all.
Albeit only marginally...