Current mood:	grumpy
Current music:	"The Dummy Song": Louis Armstrong

The Snore of Mensa
I felt his glare on me the second Misty and I entered the testing room. With the barest glance, he contemptuously took in my oversized Nat Nast shirt and the Kolchak pork pie atop my four months worth of uncut hair and dismissed me as a rube. A lackwit, a dimbulb, a Chucklehead Charlie, a fizzle, a feeb. Hardly the stuff of Mensa. I in turn noted the ample girth spilling over his brown slacks and said "Any way you want to play it, Sans-A-Belt."

Misty and I had come to take our entrance tests for Mensa and it was clear that the proctor did not think much of me, or almost anyone else. Oh, he loved Misty. Couldn't stop gushing over her, really. Not that I blame him. Still, it was a bit disconcerting that he directed every comment to her and barely said anything to any of the other brainy hopefuls.

I think I did so-so on the first part of the test even though I left a lot of questions unanswered. The tests are on a strict time limit, and I am prone to dawdle. We took a break after the first test. Ludwig Von Drip gathered up the tests, giving out with a smug chuckle, rueful shake of the head or mumbled "Oh, no,no,no..." as he flipped through them. I wandered into the outer courtyard where a coffee and pastry reception was in progress for some other students. A few minutes later I traipsed back into the testing room, a tasty cinnamon bun in my hand. Misty looked up from her protein shake and gasped: "Where did you get THAT?" "I may not get into Mensa," I explained between bites, "But I know how to get myself a damn sweet roll."

Round two found me sucking sidewalk against the math questions but doing okay with the pictures and word tests. When all was done, we said good bye and the proctor held out his arms (to Misty) for a hug. A long hug, as it turned out. "Nice menssage." I grumbled as we walked to the car. Dunno about this orginization. The puzzles and problems I can see using in my writing, but on the whole it seemed on a par with that Simpsons episode "They Saved Lisa's Brain", but not as funny as the Woody Allen short story "The Whore of Mensa," from which I pinched this entries title.