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Riksenior@frontier.com

 

Zits

 

May 2, 1937—My platonic girlfriend Zelda Anderson stops me in the South High hall as I’m hurrying along toward Algebra class. She asks, “What happened to your nose?”

Mustering as much sarcasm as possible, because her patent question irked me as it has many times before, I said, “I cut it shaving.” But gee whiz, I haven’t even started taking a razor to my peach fuzz.

“You shave your nose?” She looked me right in the eyes, got it herself and grinned. Her brow and cheeks got ruddy. Recovering quickly, however, she goes on without a segue, to ask, “Who are you taking to the prom?”

“Colleen Burke,” I said; to add, “I hope.”“Haven’t you asked her yet? You may be too late.”                   [Continued NEXT PAGE.]

 

 

July Fourth, 1920—DEAR DIARY, this is the day I was born but you’ve got to be totally surprised as I start this incredible job of recording in the year 2000 when I’m already 80 years old—just a tad intellectually of course because of the commonly called second childhood syndrome, or SCS. Sure, you might want to call my aging mentality a dementia as you ask of me, “Why build this huge after-the-facts project now?”

Here’s why. There were so many exciting, strange, zany events in my life and there were so many exciting, strange, zany characters moving crazily within those thrilling adventures that I’m terribly excited, myself, while relating a bunch of the weirdest happenings—with jazzed up imagination—because it’s never too late.

A local bookstore will order any book upon your request . . .