Have you ever heard of Naic Beach
There is little of boasting at Naic
Gentlemen! (and your attaches, the wimin)
The great big he man realist, the Anderson person whose first name has a quaint likeness of the habitat of my favorite hero speaks. Throngs shall greet him. The demonstration shall last three and a half seconds. It seems that the campus shall not be outdone in their efforts to do honor to this man. Flowers shall be cast upon the stage. It is a mild mistake, the donors think he is dead. They must have read his books. No matter. We are humble. He is speaking.
The Maid-Rite Sandwich Shop
A pretty waitress and a not-so-pretty waitress in a helluva hurry. Eleven or fourteen females sit about the tables gossiping earnestly -- they all look alike, but then, all women look alike when gossiping and Allah praise the cunning dears, they are always gossiping. Three benighted souls with a one o'clock date stand somewhat patiently behind the rows of infants and pray for a seat -- they get it. Eighteen children want "Choklit malted milks" at once if not sooner. Two pimply frosh compete for the pretty waitresses smiles -- which incidentally is given to an unassuming instructor sandwitched between a small lady in a violent sweater and a very small lady in a dirty sailor suit -- it is found impossible to eat the jolly Maid-Rite sandwitch with any degree of grace. Others have found this out before. And so goes it--
Copyright © 2001, Mary S. Van Deusen