Any Coincidence Is | Page 7

visit the American Embassy!
Unless of course this is the American Embassy, in which case I'd like to
visit to the Russian Embassy! Ya neeminoga gavaru parusskie!"
From beyond a shadowed corner, a small man emerged wearing a white
lab coat.
"About time! About fifteen minutes ago I was--"
"Contemplating making romantic overtures to a female student less
than half your age," said the Lab Coat Man, reading from a yellow page
stacked (neatly) in a clipboard.
"Well, yes," muttered Prof. Sigger. "Is that the reason I'm here?"
"We'd like to schedule your interview. Are you free in an hour?" he
replied.
"You don't seem to be comprehending me! A minute ago I was in my
office with a student! The next I'm here! You have a lot--"
"Entertainment is at seven, attendance mandatory, unless you have
failed to complete part one of the interview."
"I'm not completing any damn interview until--"
"What the hell's for dinner?" the boy asked.
"Let me see, let me see," said the Lab Coat Man, flipping through the
pages on his clipboard.
"Excuse me. Point of order here..." began Prof. Sigger.
"That pizza today sucked."
"I certainly can't disagree with you there."
"I am negotiating for my release, so if we could stick to the topic -"
"Couldn't you have at least baked it instead of micro-waving it?"
"Out of my control, I'm afraid."
"Am I invisible? Am I not part of this conversation?"
"Patience, Mr. Sigger," replied the Lab Coat Man, flipping back to his
top sheet.
"Professor Sigger!"
"Frigging crybaby," muttered the boy.
"I'll have you know--!" bellowed Sigger, his voice cracking in a most
un-John Wayne like fashion.
"Now, now," began the Lab Coat Man.
"So what's it going to be? More bad pizza?"
"La dee da, la dee da! Never mind that I'm here! I think I'll just find a
corner and sit here while you two carry on this most important of

conversations."
"Oh, no, Prof. Sigger, we have our interview. Not a thing we can skip."
"There's nothing you can say to make me!" Sigger cried, sulking in the
corner farthest from Kurt.
"In answer to your question, Taco Bell," he replied, looking up from a
red 2B.
"I think I'm going to puke," Kurt moaned, looking even rattier than
before and visibly greener as the pronouncement set in.
"I'm ready for that interview now," muttered Prof. Sigger, trotting to
the steel bars and waiting like an obedient schoolboy. The Lab Coat
Man nodded and marked an 'X' on a white page.

9. A weird day's night "There is no such thing as an omen. Destiny
does not send us heralds. She is too wise or too cruel for that." - Oscar
Wilde
Julia dashed into the Osco employees' entrance and punched in one
second before four o'clock. Accomplishing her day's goal of being on
somebody's payroll, she decided to catch her breath by sneaking a
smoke in the restroom. She caught Rhonda's eye at the check-out
counter, who gave her a smile and a nod that meant: "Join you in a
second."
Kurt, aka. Farthead, hadn't replaced the dead bulbs yet, so Julia sat on a
toilet lid inside a claustrophobic's nightmare of a stall with only pale,
yellow light keeping her from absolute darkness. And the brief flame of
the lighter, which she snapped closed as she took a strong, slow drag.
Another night-shift to deal with old grannies looking for denture cream,
kids trying to lift cigarettes, drunks picking up plastic violets for the
wife. If only she didn't need to eat, Julia concluded, maybe she
wouldn't have to work in a world that seemed more than a little unreal.
But then, that was the family legacy, wasn't it? Seeing something that
wasn't there, or worse: trying to see something that wasn't there and
almost succeeding. Find a farm out in Arizona and retire once you've
had enough of being called crazy. But then, Julia knew that there were
two kinds of people: those who couldn't live without air conditioning
and her uncle. Another run-down, fix-it-up farm in this family was out
of the question. She took another deep drag and wondered why she kept
smoking these things. They were like beer, Uncle Justin had told her:

after the War, they never went back to making them right. If only
someone would just make some real changes in the world - how long
could it be before it was a better place to live? A better place than this?
Wasn't that what everyone wanted? If so, why did everyone settle for
what we had?
That's what her mother had done. Settled for Dad dying. Settled for the
life of a reclusive widow, until she died too. Not much Julia could do
but not make a conscious