Any Coincidence Is | Page 6

that stalked the parking lot for open stalls. It seemed nearly everyone in the building had heard a whisper by the time Alona reached her father's rusting Gremlin.
She made her way to it without getting hit by the over-anxious drivers, unlocked the driver's side door, threw her bag into the back seat and herself into the driver's. Then she let go and sobbed and sobbed, hoping that if she got a "C" in Freshman Comp that it wouldn't turn out to be the excuse her parents needed to stop paying her tuition. They wanted Alona to work in the town's newly renovated theater, an investment in which they owned a small percentage.
Alona's sobs lasted for some time, and she knew, just knew, that her water-proof mascara had run, so she opened the glove compartment to find a Kleenex. Out fell a letter.
Her sobbing stopped as she picked it up from the dusty car floor. "Alona" was written, almost scribbled, on the cover. In Kurt's handwriting. She hadn't seen him in weeks, not since he began playing regularly in the band. She couldn't help picturing him the last time he was in her car, brushing back his long hair and scratching his hand in that nervous way of his.
"You're breaking up with me?" he asked, staring vaguely at the floor-mat.
She had nodded. What else could she do? Even she had finally admitted that he was just a good-looking loser. Sure, he could play the guitar and write songs, but she wouldn't be able to face her parents once they found out his most popular ballad was "Love Turds".
"This sucks," he muttered. Somehow, that had helped her keep her resolve, although in the weeks that had passed, her memory of that lonely quality of his, the one that had attracted her to him in the first place, had grown to almost god-like proportions.
Alona sighed and opened the letter.
Alona, (it read, unnecessarily) O.K. I've had time to think about us. You shouldn't have broken up with me, but you're still cool, O.K.? I mean, even if you don't let me go all the way with you, your cool. So, like what I'm asking is should we get back together?
I know you don't think your parents will like me. But I'll grow on them. I'll write them a song that they'll like. Like "Love Turds" but with different lyrics.
Any way, that's not what I wrote about. I mean, youre cool and all and I want to get back together with you but there's something else going on.
I'm probably going to loose my dayjob at Osco. Doesn't matter. Screwm all. But I think I know what's been in those weird boxes Osco orders that end up in Denny's car! Something big is going to happen and I think that all of those freeaks who picked up the white lab coats are in on it. You remember them? Anyway-
Denny let it slip that some of that stuff was going to Seltzer or Sesame, or whatever. This all adds up! I'll let you know as soon as I can find out what's in them! Then I'll see if Tom if can get off his butt long enough to come with me to search for Seltsame- Call me tonight after eight.
(I mean if you want to call me after eight. You don't have to but I shure would like to talk to you again about us and all of this and stuff, you know?)
Love, Kurt.
PS. If you arnt getting back with me, can you give me back my Ugly Kid Joe CD?

8. The most effective form of rhetorical persuasion ever devised "If at first you don't succeed, try, try, and try again. Then give up. There's no use being a damned fool about it." - W.C. Fields
"Hello!" cried Prof. Sigger, his voice drained of masculine resonance with panic. No one seemed to be around, except the long haired kid sharing his cell. The boy was hunched in the corner, arms folded around his stomach.
"Hello!" bellowed Prof. Sigger. "I'd like to 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