The besotted couple stared at one as they

The besotted couple stared at one as they sipped their champagne. He was about to propose, she about to break up with him. The waiter hovered solicitously, but at the wrong times.

For instance, the waiter hovered while they went to the bathroom to wash their hands. He hovered with black pepper when they went out to smoke. He hovered with mushroom gravy

over the desert tray. How he was able to just hover in the air like that was very disturbing. I'll never go to that restaurant again, they wouldn't give me an AARP discount.

Dam-bursting diarrhea, to be precise. That's what I got. I did a handstand to get gravity working in my favor, but it was no use - I needed

immodium, but I would settle for epoxy. I now knew that I needed to tolerate my lactose intolerance less. "Don't give an inch", my dad used to say. I always thought he meant

"Don't give someone an inch of paper," which made sense because that seemed like an awfully stupid gift, but now I understood the true meaning; I would need to take my lactose

free milk, a squeeze of lemon juice, and a candle, and make a message in invisible ink! Then swallow it. I think. That's got to be what the milk is for, right? But what to write

on the last scrap of toilet paper in all of existence. I know! "Get...more...toilet paper." That was a good idea. Something worth holding onto, but not sharing. Carefully I

wrote the very last line (This one) and sent the 10 sheets to folding story . "I might not get "Writer in Residence', I thought, "but at least I'll get points for originality."