Something's Missing

We were standing on the porch of the newspaper office, and I was crying uncontrollably.

"If you don't stop crying, I'm gonna give you something to cry about!" Citizen Jim said to me. "And I don't care who walks by when you're getting it!"

I knew he was trying to cheer me up, but every time I looked at him my tears came back full-force, seeming to shoot straight out of my eyes like water from a busted main.

My coworkers were standing on the other side of the closed door trying to hear us; I had made sure we were far enough away from the front entrance of the office to prevent their seeing us.

I was so embarrassed!

We'd wanted to do so many fun things during his latest visit. I'd arranged for Jim to go to public meetings with me; we were supposed to go shoot pool at the Moose Club with Dr. C. and the mayor; and my coworkers were so anxious to meet Jim that anyone would have thought he was actually Paul McCartney or Richard Gere.

Once he arrived on my doorstep, though, I knew we wouldn't be going anywhere or doing anything we'd planned because of his appearance.

"Look, I WARNED YOU!" he reminded me as I stood with my back against the wall of the office, banging the back of my head against the bricks. "Now let's just go inside and see those ladies who want my autograph! It's rude, standing out here when I got me some BIG FANS inside!"

The South Beach Diet

"You never prepared me for...for THAT!" I said, pointing at his midsection. "Why don't you just shave your arms and legs and put on a bicycle helmet so you can look more like that skeleton boy who used to live in your apartment building?"

"You mean Mark? Mark of the Turtle?" he asked. "I do NOT look like THAT bag of bones!"

Before bursting into tears, I yelled, "YES YOU DO!"

"Well, you can stay out here and cry your eyes out, but I'm going in there and meeting my fan club," Jim said.

I rushed in behind him, drying my eyes. "You just LIVE to humiliate and embarrass me," I mumbled.

Jodi, the girl who did everything except write stories at the paper, and Mrs. King, our proofreader, were smiling at Jim and gushing their "Hellos" at him.

"I'm sorry, you guys," I said. "I had no idea he was going to pull this crap on me."

"What?" Mrs. King asked. "What's the matter?"

"Yeah, what's wrong?" Jodi asked.

"LOOK AT HIM!" I screamed. "Oh, God, this is embarrassing!"

"He looks pretty slim and trim to me," Mrs. King said.

"Yes, I KNOW! And I'll never forgive him for LOSING ALL THAT WEIGHT!"

Jodi said, "I don't get it."

"Don't even try," Citizen Jim said. "I went on some diet a month ago, and you'd've thought I'd stuck a knife in her neck."

"That's what it feels like every time I look at you!" I said.

"I still don't understand what the big deal is. He looks fine to me," Jodi said.

"Me too," said Mrs. King.

"See there, Stimpy? You're blowing this all out of proportion," Citizen Jim said.

"AAAARRRRGGGGH!" was my response. Jim shoved a hand against my chest, knocking me to the floor.

"Chicken Sheets likes me to be FAT as a PIG ready to be SLAUGHTERED," Jim said.

I lay on the floor, slamming my palms and and kicking the toes of my shoes against the carpet. "I want Jim to be FAT AGAIN!" I yelled, thrashing my head from side to side until I thought I might rupture a

(Ed. note: And then Larry walked in...)

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