Good friends, cheap wine. Knowing I'm leaving

Good friends, cheap wine. Knowing I'm leaving all the while

was what eight-year old Kenneth thought as he mingled at his Aunt's reception. He was an English-professor from Santa Barbara trapped in an eight-year old's body and

although he was fluent in both English and Spanish, eight-year-old Kenneth considered them to be obstructions to expression (or maybe roads to acquiescence), but the frequency

of Yiddish gutterals appealed to him. He'd listened to local grocer regale regulars with funny stories. Kenneths parents worried that 8 yr.old Kenneth spoke no english or spanish

But then he met Paulina, a gorgeous girl with an accent so dreamy, so romantic, so French. If he could somehow get himself to ask her out, he would be

cher chic. He needed to cram on the Francais if he was going to win Paula's heart. He had the beret and the bagette, and now he only had to learn the language of love, in one week.

So he hired a French prostitute to teach him to speak French in 1 week. She was rough, and kept trying to unzip him. But at week's end he was half fluent. He went to his love Paula

Dean body pillow and dumped out the cushion. With a wide smile he presented it to the listless movie theater employee. It was B.Y.O.B. day and his girlfriend swooned at frugality.

The movie theatre employee thought the best way to end the night was to turn off the power for the entire complex leaving movie goers in the dark making loud bumping noises.