XXVI

Lunch—I sat with the Manatees at table one, the most prized piece of cafeteria real estate. Sitting there was Flip’s idea; he said it announced to the world that I had made it. It sent a message that I was untouchable.

The murderous goons of the Hitler Youth Brigade all behaved like perfect gentlemen. They included me in their conversations and politely refrained from kicking the crap out of me. I couldn’t have had a lovelier time.

In fact, I thought I pulled off the transition from punching bag to luncheon date quite graciously and was a sparkling addition to their table. Yes, yes. It’s true!

However, as I was telling Bib and the Takaberrys all about the Marc Jacobs spring collection, and how they could translate some of the trends into their own spring-summer wardrobes, I noticed that they were kicking Flip under the table.

“Floral is back, you say?” Bib smiled, and there was an audible CRACK! from below. Flip winced.

“Gingham for night?” The ugly Takaberry asked in disbelief. There was another KA THUNK! And again Flip’s face registered discomfort.

Heterosexuals are so rough with each other! I’ll never understand them!

 

Anyway: I counted lunch as a great success, and a major social coup on my part. Definitely better than getting fish sticks up my nose.

I even went so far as to hug and air-kiss Bib good-bye. He looked a bit stunned, like he was holding down a powerful emotion.

I think he was touched. Probably not many people hug him. Hard to cuddle a walking sledgehammer, you know.