"Goddammitall," she said, the other day, throwing her bookbag
across the room.  "Fuck!"
     "All right," I said.  "I'll bite.  What's wrong?"  I had a
strong feeling that her anger was feigned, that she had a story she
wanted to tell me, but wanted it to seem as if I'd specifically
asked her to tell me it.  This was one of Karen's biggest passive-
aggressive tricks, but I always went for it, because her stories
never disappointed.
     She jumped up on the couch, stretched out, and started hunting
for the remote control for the tv.  "Psych 100," she said.  "Fuck,
I could just scream."  Then, she screamed.
     Then Howard walked in, back from class.  As he walked into the
kitchen"Oh my God, Rich.  Karen, tell him what happened in psych.
It was infuckingcredible.  Want a Pop-Tart?"
     Karen took a breath and said, "Yeah.  Heat it up first.  Well,
there was a lecture today on the Zimbardo shock experiment.  And I
was really into it, right--"
     "Yeah, I remember."  I said.
     "I showed up late so I couldn't sit next to Howard and had to
sit in the back.  Well, the whole class there were these two moron
fratboys sitting behind me.  "
     "I saw them," said Howard, coming out of the kitchen with a
plate of frosted brown-sugar cinnamon Pop-Tarts and a half gallon
of milk.  "They were huge."
     "Well, the whole lecture, they were having this loud debate on
why Catholic girls like to give head so much."
     "Hmmmm."
     Karen started in on her Pop-Tart, first breaking off the four
unfrosted edges and setting them on the plate.  Howard did the
same.  He got that from her.
     "Well, it was really pissing me off, but no one around them
would say anything.  So finally, I turned to them around and said,
"Well if you two really want to know, why don't you ask *me*?  I
guess they figured I was flirting or something because then one guy
says, all patronizing and shit 'All right, tell us, why do you
Catholic girls like to give head so much?'  So now, like, everyone
in my row and the row behind me is completely ignoring the lecture
and only listening to me, so I say, sweet as can be, 'Well, sugar.
What girl could bear to look at meatball like you in the face?'"
     "You didn't."
     Howard said, "Yup, she did.  Next thing you know, the whole
back of the class was cracking up, which really pissed off the
prof, cause I guess this is his coolest lecture."
     "Yup," I said.  "He just loves that shock experiment thing.
You'll hear about it all year."
     Howard said, "Wait, it gets better."
     "Better?  No way.  That was classic."
     "Well, like she said," said Howard.  "The prof was pretty
pissed with this whole big disruption and all, so he says, just
like we were in high school, 'If something back there is amusing,
I'm sure the whole class would be interested.  Please, share it."
     "He said that."
     "Sure did."
     "So what'd you do?"
     "I couldn't let down my fans now, could I?"
     "Oh no."
     "So I stood up and told the prof exactly what happened, just
like I told you."
     "Oh man.  What happened to the fratboys?"
     "They left.  I think one managed to call me a dyke on the way
out.  I blew him a kiss.  So then the prof played it really cool,
right.  He switched from a lecture on the shock experiment to a
different one about social norms and how hard it is to break them,
and he used *me* as an example.  It was so cool."