a bedtime story.

Once upon a time there were two college girls who went to a soon-to-be-famous singer's concert. After the concert, the singer made his way through the crowd, answering questions and meeting adoring fans.

The two girls summoned all their scholarly courage and bravely walked up to the singer and asked the question the whole crowd wanted to know...

"Hi, John. We want to know...do you eat?"
John replied with a snark, "Although my Body is a Wonderland of seemingly fraility...contrary to popular belief I do engage in body supplantation of nutrients and other life forms." (Or something equally as witty, I'm sure.)

The clever girls giggled in response for surely John did not understand this universal question,

"No, no. We want to know if you eat lunch? And, if so, if you'll eat lunch with us?"

John was quick to see the error in communication and let out a chuckle, "Oh, you witty things! I would love to, but seeing how I must be in a different city tomorrow, it tis not possible! Pish, posh, you are wise beyond your years and the world is your oyster, a stitch in time saves nine, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, cliches!"

And so the story ended.

Or so it seemed...

Until today.

I'm watching the Michael Jackson funeral/tribute thing on televsion when lo' and behold my John walks on stage. Yes, it is I, one of the witty co-eds of yesteryear. I immediately text my friend in Chicago, a fellow John-lover and someone who happens to be a radio talk show host.

me "John looks hot."
her "U couldve asked him to lunch"
me "SHOT. DOWN."
her "I'm so envious of u. Thts so effn awesome. u rule in my book. U RULE. I'm gonna remind him about it if i ever interview him. Tell him he missed out an ORIGINAL. and i'm gonna call u and put u on the air. U will have your redemption. If it kills me. U WILL. its on. mission possible!"
me "That was beauty, my friend. And made me spill queso in my hair. Dang. I just took cheesehead to a new level. Take THAT, JOHN!"

I soon returned to my office and this e-card was waiting for me...beckoning me to open it.

It was titled: A Cry for Help.

As if those stinging words weren't enough!!! She also included a cryptic message, a message that would soon rip my heart into shreads, it read:

"Youre eating queso without me?? B*TCH."

Ne'er truer words e'er been spoken.

Ne'er truer words.

-THE END-

...for now...!!!!

(scary music plays)