There at end of home room quarter to end hour like through wrong end of telescope this girl Pam so out of it I go by tables chair to her I say "You cannot do like this, Pam-el-a, join along with rest -- are you high?" She rise up like zombie movie, lurch toward door. I play cute-card: "Hope we see you somedays, Pam."

She drawl: "Oh, you see me all right" and off to Authority, for I have done bad thing, talk to her in very bad way, law I do not know: "Defaming Definition," say "Are you high?" very bad thing, word-rape, in this dream I dream teaching days kaput, another zippy teacher gone for who would dignify crazy process with collusion? I quit, work on broccoli farm, alcoholic die young, cirrhosis, very young, paranoid but pride intact.

Imagine now this Pam she wake, read news of my demise.

Pam fall back in bed with cunning smile, still in slew of druggie haze but feel good, at least I am now died, at least back then Miss Pam got this one something right.