It's August. You know what that means. No, no vacation for me---not enough readers sent me money for one. August means the start of another academic year. That's a strain on me---not pleasant---I become riled and anxious. Yesterday a police car found me four blocks from my home; I was wandering the neighborhood, lecturing on theological cosmology to kids, dogs, birds, ice-cream vendors, anyone within earshot. And what was the problem. The cop returned me to my house and the little woman. She gave me some cold lemonade, and arranged my afternoon soaps for me. But I keep smelling blackboard chalk and sharpened pencils. Damn August!
-Old Gargoyle
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