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[OCT. 7, 2006]
Saw Randall Jones the other day,
walking down the street about 10 yards behind his true love, Marcia
Fleming. The look in his eyes as he watched her up ahead of him was
just pure pathetic. Moon-calf eyes, I think they call it.
When it comes to dealing with girls, Randy is about the most bashful
high school kid we've seen since we were his age. And Marcia
Fleming, decent girl that she is, still wouldn't throw Randy a towel
if he were drowning.
Randy, Randy. Ever since you practiced for
your prom date with Marcia by kissing your horse, and then were dumb
enough to tell her about it, we've been worried about you.
Oh, you're a good guy, and none of us older types around here
would mind you asking our daughters out, if we had any. You're a
good kid, sure enough. But man, are you dumb!
Marcia broke your date when you told her about the horse, of
course. And you're the only guy in the valley who was surprised.
You know, we'd sit down here and try to explain things to you if
we thought it would help. We'd tell you that girls are human and
have feelings, too, and some of them actually appreciate having a
nice young fella around and interested in them.
[to top of second
But to you, Randy, the entire world of girls, a good half the
population of the world, consists of Marcia. Marcia, who haunts your
dreams at night and your daydreams as you care for your animals in
the afternoon. Marcia, who traps your eyes as she walks more
elegantly -- in your eyes -- than any covey of movie starlets,
beauty queens or fashion models who ever lived. We know how it is,
But maybe one day you'll notice that nice Garcia girl, Teresa,
and the way she looks at you when you're busy making goo-goo eyes at
Marcia. We've seen it. You see, there are a lot more Teresas out
there than there are Marcias, and someday you'll find one who thinks
Randy Jones is the bee's knees.
After all, we found ours.
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