“You don’t understand. That awful man isn’t my boyfriend. It was a blind date. A one-time mistake of horrendous proportions.”

“A blind date? But when I asked if you’d like to meet my grandson Morris, you said you had a boyfriend.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I lied, because at the time I thought I wasn’t ready to date.”

Mrs. Pechter blinked, puzzled.

“If you weren’t ready to date, why did you go out on a blind date?”

This wasn’t going to be quite as easy as I’d thought.

“My girlfriend pressured me into it. I didn’t want to. Honest.”

“Well, I certainly can see why you’re not ready to date, if that’s the kind of dates you go out on.”

“Actually, Mrs. Pechter, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I’ve decided that maybe I am ready to date. In fact, I would’ve never turned down a date with your grandson if I’d realized what a studmuf-fin he was.”

Okay, so I didn’t really say that. What I said was: “In fact, your grandson seemed so nice, maybe I could give dating another try.”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “If you’re not ready to date, you’re not ready.”

“But I am ready. Really.”

“No, darling. Rose Pechter is not a pushy person. I know how things are. I watch Dr. Phil. You need your space.”

“I’ve got plenty of space. I’m not feeling the least bit hemmed in emotionally. It might be the perfect time to start dating.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice. You’re afraid I’m hurt because you turned down my Morris.”

“I’m not just saying it to be nice. I swear. I’d be happy to go out with your Morris.”

“He’s not a big time actor with insects in his coat pocket.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Here’s my number.” I thrust my business card into her hand. “Just give it to him. Please?”

By now I was practically on my knees.

“Okay, darling,” she shrugged. “Whatever you say.” Then she dropped my business card in her cavernous purse, and waddled out the room.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, exhausted from all that grovelling. That had to have been one of the more humiliating experiences of my life. But, on the plus side, the adorable Morris might give me a call. I sincerely doubted it, but who knew? And even more important, at least Mrs. Pechter hadn’t told the class about my disastrous date with Tommy the Termite.

Or so I thought.

Because just then, Mr. Goldman popped his head in the door.

“Hey, cookie,” he said with a wink. “Ate any good cockroaches lately?”

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

To: Jausten

From: Shoptillyoudrop

Subject: Worse than ever

Well, your father washed his toupee, and it’s worse than ever. All the little clumps of hair are matted together, like a squirrel on a bad hair day. And it still smells like tuna.

This afternoon, I let Daddy talk me into going to the movies. As much as I hate to be seen in public with him, I really needed to get out of the house. Anyhow, there we were, watching the coming attractions, when someone behind us said, “Yuck. I smell rancid fish.”