Chapter 95

I was two was said with a tone of accomplishment ... all that was missing was the twirling toe of two year old embarrassment ... and mother’s skirt to hide behind.

I seemed to have gotten across the message ... I was done answering questions about my relations ... didn’t do a damn thing for my Friday date with the law.

They wanted to know his ‘size’ ... and height, width and age. His ancestry, time in service, and payroll account number ... where he banked and what he drove.

The only thing I had first hand acquaintance with was his patrol-car ... and that belongs to the county. I didn’t know anything except barbecue ... and a change of clothing.

The change of clothing caused the Second deep vacuum in the vicinity of ‘Table of Twelve.’

I said, “He said, ‘barbecue is messy’ and even cautioned me against white.”

Arrangements were made for three of the most fashion conscious to meet at Bud Field after class ... my wardrobe was going to be judged ... and soon enough to repair any deficiency.

“You DO have sufficient funds?” Simone asked. Evidently, Simone Berger was acquainted with Princessapality Attire.

“How much do you want to spend ... and where?” I said.

“How much do you have? ... ooo ... that much.”

“That much,” was in response to displaying my black titanium MasterCard.

“We’ll start at Anthropologie and work our way up,” said the clothing committee, “Lets go.”

“What about class?”

It was then that I heard the almost patented saying for the first time... “Don’t let College get in the way of your education.”

It wasn’t anyone at My table that said it. The Dean of Women happened to be wanting to speak to me. He was waiting just outside the perimeter of “The Table Of Twelve.” He said it.

Then he said, “Tyche?”

Third vacuum.

“Don’t you ever listen to your phone messages?”

“My phone has a messaging setting?”

“Someone?” He glanced at the table of women. It wasn’t a suggestion ... it was a command.

My phone was snatched from the table and buttons were pushed.

“Tyche,” the speaker said. “Could you drop by my office ... soon.”

It beeped ... and repeated the message 11 times ... each message was dated and timestamped...”Could you drop by my office.” Stretching back to the previous Monday. Then it beeped three times and announced, “This Message box is full.”

“OOPS.”

“Since the mountain has not moved ... I am come to the mountain.” He said. “Might we have a little privacy?”

I was the only one that moved. Leave juicy gossip? Not on your life.