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WEEK 317
Randy sighed and shook his head. "Every time that kid comes in here I feel like I just want to..."

...say a prayer to the lord."

"Kids today. Our parents said the same thing about our generation." Chris glanced over his shoulder from where he stood hanging belts and hoses next to a 350 small block engine on display.

"Oh, I know I did my share of trouble when I was a teenager, but never once did I wear eyeliner or paint my nails. The only reason I know that female that just came in here is really a male, is because he...er, uh...she, has been coming in here weekly and has gradually metamorphosized before our eyes. Even his voice is female now."

Randy remembered the first time the kid came into the shop looking for a set of aluminum heads. He wore overalls and a greasy plaid shirt. Today, he had worn a skin tight neon green tank top with jeans tapered down to the ankles. Heavy kohl lined his eyes and his florescent orange nail polish was impossible to miss when he had handed Randy cash.

"I'm not even religious." Randy couldn't stop shaking his head

by Leaha Lara, Marysville, WA

...hug him. He has such a cruel father..."

"What? Cruel?--His father's a cook! He makes the most amazing meals, and I happen to know that 'that kid' eats in the restaurant, every morning and night!"

"Okay! Okay. But who would want a father that spends all his time beating eggs, battering fish and whipping cream?"

by Carolyn Ann Aish, Inglewood, New Zealand

...wring that dog's neck. That old beagle goes to yipping and howling at that kid and it's all I can do to keep this headache at bay. Mama, I think I'm going to go get an aspirin."

Randy walked over to the kitchen cabinet and fumbled for the bottle of aspirin, dropping it to the floor and spilling them all over the linoleum. Floppy, the old beagle, ran into the kitchen and quickly gobbled up the aspirin. Just then ten year old Bobby slammed the back door and ran outside to play.

"OWoooh," howled Floppy.

"Man," said Randy, "If it isn't one thing it's another. That dog's dying and he's still howling.

by April McCullar, Archibald, LA