home *** CD-ROM | disk | FTP | other *** search
- Path: sparky!uunet!usc!news.service.uci.edu!orion.oac.uci.edu!eaeu282
- From: eaeu282@orion.oac.uci.edu (Ching-I Chen)
- Subject: Delilah tries her hand at this...
- Nntp-Posting-Host: orion.oac.uci.edu
- Message-ID: <2B647F7C.2965@news.service.uci.edu>
- Newsgroups: alt.callahans
- Organization: University of California, Irvine
- Lines: 80
- Date: 26 Jan 93 00:02:04 GMT
-
-
-
- Delilah, having just fallen asleep in her Ecology class during a
- most (un)interesting slide show about squirrel speciation habits, staggers
- up to the bar. Noticing there are no barstools -- she makes a mental note
- to thank all the wonduhful peepul who sent her the FAQ -- she leans against
- it, propping her face between her hands.
- She yawns. And orders a drink. (Darn, she thinks, what was that
- bartender's name? She thinks of squirrels and nocturnal bats.) "Hi, I'm
- utterly new here and don't know what I'm doing. Can you give me
- something politically incorrect to drink," she asks. The bartender hands
- her a beautifully crafted glass... but it's empty. "What's this?" she
- ponders, staring at the glass.
- "It's a Dan Quayle," he replies. "Pretty to look at, but otherwise
- empty."
- Smiling a little, Delilah puts the empty glass down on the bar.
- "What if I were a conservative NRA-supporting gun-toting Republican and took
- slight offense at that?"
- "You're obviously a Democrat," he answers.
- "How can you be so sure?"
- "The outdated but otherwise nice-looking Clinton-Gore in '92 pin is
- something of a good clue. Other than that, you have this general Democrat
- aura to you."
- Delilah raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sure... is that a compliment or
- a well-veiled insult, jabbing at my political beliefs."
- "See it however you choose," he shrugs. "It's just a drink."
- "Uh huh," Delilah mutters. She picks up the glass and stares at it,
- trying not to yawn again. "So what do you give to someone with a distinctly
- Republican aura who comes in and asks for something politically incorrect to
- drink?"
- The bartender places another expensive looking hand-crafted glass
- before Delilah. It's exactly the same as the other one, and it's empty, too.
- Pointing to the new glass, she asks, "And what's this called?"
- The bartender shrugs slightly and replies, "It's a Clinton-Gore ticket.
- Pretty to look at, but otherwise empty."
- "Ah," Delilah comments insightfully. She takes her glass and puts a
- raggedy dollar bill on the bar. "Thanks for the Dan Quayle."
- Wiping a spot on the bar, the bartender says, "I wonder how many
- Democrats have ever said that."
- "Believe me, the ones who were stand-up comics have said it alot."
- Taking her empty glass, Delilah staggers around the bar, trying to get used to
- the place. Still a little drowsy, she announces to anyone within hearing
- distance that this is her first post.
- "This is my first post, you know," she says to an unamused coat rack.
- She thinks a moment, pithy little thoughts travelling the empty
- highways and byways of her mind. What am I supposed to do with the glass? she
- thinks to herself. Roast it. No, toast it? She glances around, her eyes
- a little blurred. There seems to be no toaster around. And how would one
- even go about toasting glass? she thinks. Wouldn't that melt it?
- Wait a minute, she thinks. She remembers something about her sister's
- wedding... when her dad got up and raised his glass and said something, well,
- she couldn't remember it now, but it was pretty sappy, and wasn't that a
- toast?
- Delilah clears her throat. "I only slept three hours last night,"
- she announces to a passerby who seems completely nonplussed.
- She clears her throat again, louder than the last time. "A toast!"
- she says. "To -- to..." Just put in some philanthropic cause right here,
- she thinks. "To getting enough sleep, programming your VCR, and trying to
- figure out how to straighten out your utterly screwed up life." With that,
- she raises her glass, then brings it down to her mouth to drink.
- "That's strange," she mumbles, "I don't remember drinking it." She
- then looks around, knowing there's something to do next. THROW IT, a voice
- in her head says. At what? she replies. AT SOMETHING, the voice answers.
- "Okay," she murmurs, her eyes glazed over. She raises the glass
- above her head again and announces with a somewhat slurred voice, "To
- throwing your glass at something!"
- She smiles joyously at everything and everyone in sight and readies
- herself for the throwing.
-
- But before she can commit the act, her eyes roll in their sockets,
- cross, and then close. She falls straight back onto the floor, glass still
- in hand. As she lies there, a faint smile emerges on her lips.
-
- Eyes still shut, she mumbles again, for only the close at hand to
- decipher: "This is my first post, and i hope i...." Her words trail off.
-
- And there, in the middle of the bar, she sleeps.
-
-
-
-