"Someone who looks sad," Burke answered. He watched her disappear into the night. Although he could not admit it, he was in love with her; love--the most benign kind: Love from Afar. Sunni was a major portion of his day. She was always in his dreams--She smiled sweetly across the breakfast table every morning, and in the evenings he imagined her gently resting beside him, her beautiful hair joyously cascading the pillow. In his mind's eye, he took her places, was witty, wonderful and charming, she laughed at all his jokes, cried for him when he hurt-yet she never realized it.

He loved her skin! He did not share these thoughts with anybody. He kept them locked up, deep and dark, where they would always be secret, where they would always be safe. He could not make the dream take root in reality. No. It just couldn't happen. Sunni was just a friend, one of the guys; a drinking buddy. But oh! What a wonderful buddy. She was radiant. She was smart and sensitive-and beautiful. She had many of the same interests as Burke, and seemed to laugh at him the most-was that a sign?

"Are your sure that you're not confusing wasted with sad?" Marchbank reeled Burke back in from Sunni-land.

"Wasted.... Yeah what a waste..." Burke muttered under his breath.

"Hey--I know what you like about her"

"What?" Burke asked somewhat defensively.

Marchbank looked askance at Burke with a "now who ya tryin' to fool" expression on his face.

"Oh those..."

"Can't keep your eyes off her 'brown nosed puppies.'" Sonofabitch! He felt like a little boy who had been caught just looking at the cookie jar. "I've got to agree with you my man, you can search the town over and never find a more significant pair."

"God Bless America."

Jak drifted off into a private moment. He smiled devilishly. "Breasts to write home about; in fact I may just do that-goes a little somethin' like this: Dear Dad and Mom, college is great, and the mammaries here are momentous-see if I use large words like that they'll think that they are getting their money's worth for putting me through school....."

"Don't you mean Monumentous?" Burke asked.

"No I think it's more like mountainous, especially in Sunni's case..."

"Yeah that too." Burke said with a smile on his face that he couldn't tone down.

"Are you working tonight? 'Cause we're goin' out to the Roadhouse later, Much later."

"I'm going in if that's what you mean. Norber would kill me if I missed any more work. He still kind of mad at me for the time I faked chopping the tip of my finger off. Won't let me anywhere near the ketchup now..."

"That guy's got a problem. You came back that night, and he found out that the hospital bill was phony before he paid it. I wonder what his problem is...."

He searched for a clock, and discovered that it was eleven o'clock. As Burke headed up the stairs to prepare, he glanced back down the street. Sunni was gone again.

Burke entered the bathroom, and the tub was still full from this afternoon, although it was ice cold. Well, somebody's got to take this bath he thought so He warmed the water, and bathed. It was good. He remembered a time once when the guys had a party while he was at to work. He came home later that evening with a plan to take a quick bath and join the party. Throughout his bath however, girls would knock on the door and ask to if they could use the bathroom. Burke was gracious-knowing it would be a face to face encounter, because there was no shower curtain around the tub. Not being a fool, his bath lasted about an hour and a half; he never even made it down to the party. He had such fun just chatting and watching the girls pee. No such luck tonight though.

Burke knew that it was getting close to being "time to oar the sauce," so he got out of that huge, deep, warm, wonderful tub. He felt better. He always did. Burke adorned his PI's tee shirt. A spiffy number with a yellowish/orange/red pizza on the front that was missing two pieces at the bottom. If you looked at the shirt the right way, it looked like a pizza peace sign. This one had many Saturday night battle scars and pizza stains, from his navigation through the sometimes stormy seas of sauce. Burke needed to find his other shoe. He had borrowed one from Jak in order to go partying with Sunni, but that one was way too big, and Burke had to admit looked pretty ridiculous. He felt as if he was slaloming on a leather ski. Burke went into his room and there next to his bed was the shoe! Now how the hell did he miss it there. Guess he wasn't seeing too straight when he first woke up. Good! Now he had a match. Burke was ready!

The stereo was once again blasting as Burke descended the stairs. As expected, there was a new group of strangers on the porch. TJ was conducting his second tour of the evening.

"Hey Ban-Man, you will never guess who is sitting over there-we have a STAR in our presence," he said.

Burke looked the group over, but didn't recognize anyone. "Who TJ?" Burke asked.

"Hamm Herrington" he said with a beaming smile.

"Hamm the hell who?" Burke asked.

"Hamm Herrington, the 1958 Middleweight Champion of the World!" he said.

"Really?"

"Just look at his ears!" TJ offered inconclusive proof to his claim.

Burke looked over at the wasted old man slouched back on the couch. Sure enough his ears looked like a couple of sweet potatoes. They had been hammered to hell by someone.

"Cool Ears Hamm!" Burke told the old man. Ham looked up. "Whaaa?"

"Cool Ears..."

Ham smiled a toothless grin. Burke was sure that TJ was lying. He brought home a toothless dude stinking of bullshit. Burke never heard of Hamm Herrington.

Out on the street the night was building to a climax. Out in the distance Burke could still hear "Chemistry Boy" still screaming "Let's get wasted!" Probably his first time away from home. Wakefield was a powerful influence on the young impressionable chemically altered intellect.

Looking down Campus Drive at all the happy people walking, talking, laughing, singing, drinking, and screaming about ripple brought to mind a similar situation that Burke had experienced a few years earlier with his friends. He was eighteen and anxious. Someone came up with the idea that they should attend a rock festival. After Woodstock, promoters kept trying to re-create the experience.

So they packed four cases of beer, some smokes, and a tent. Six guys crammed into a Ford Mustang and began the cross country journey. They didn't know what to expect. As they approached the festival, traffic got progressively heavier. They slowed down from eighty, to forty, to twenty, to one block every twenty minutes. They crept their way up to the top of a hill. Yards, feet, inches. When they got to the top they looked down at the landscape expanding before them, they realized that they would drive no more. Extending out, to the horizon, as far as the eye could see, were two symmetrical rows of cars....parked. Lights off. People wandering up and down the aisle, the while line. It was a party! A party seventy-five feet wide and twenty miles long! So they turned the car off and got out and wandered down the white line to see what they could see.

Campus Drive was a bit like that rock fest highway party; a couple of hundred feet wide and a couple of miles long. Most of the rest of the town was relatively quiet and normal....as normal as Wakefield could be, anyway.

Burke cut between some buildings, crossed the railroad tracks, and was standing at the front doors of PI's, exactly one block from the Elm St. house. Burke was two minutes early. There was only one thing to do in this instance: call in a mistake pizza. There were specific guidelines to use when one called in a mistake pizza, one had to keep in mind to make it a non-generic variety. A sausage with extra cheese could easily be pawned off as a plain old sausage, a good deal for the customer. Shrimp and mushroom, or ham and onion were safer bets. Burke opted for ham and onion. He lived on pizza, and quickly had become bored with the normal kinds anyway. Besides, PI's sausage was partially meat, and partially something else. It had a resemblance to rabbit turds.

Burke called in the mistake from the phone in the foyer, just thirty feet from the counter. Burke disguised his voice with his infamous "Yoda" impression, and hoped it had worked. Maggie was there writing the order as Burke walked in.

There were several people lined up at the counter waiting to place their orders so like a good guy Burke volunteered to help him and make a few pizza's while he wrote orders. The first one sounded interesting. Ham and onion. Burke decided to make that one extra tasty. Lots of sauce, cheese, and all the good things that Burke liked in case the person who called this one in didn't show.

It was time to go upstairs and get his stuff done so Burke could screw around later. Because it was only Tuesday, Burke knew tonight wouldn't be real busy. Norber was up there making the dough. "Hey Norber, how's it going?" Burke greeted him. He just looked at Burke with that wonderful dead-pan expression, as if he couldn't make up his mind whether he knew Burke or not. Seconds passed, they seemed like minutes. Finally, "hello," he said. That guy sure was an interesting specimen.

The kitchen was Burke's territory. His "turf." He liked it that way. When things got crazy downstairs, Burke would be peacefully oaring the pizza sauce, mind meandering a mile a minute. That was his time to sort things out.

General Marchbank had trained Burke in the kitchen, for food prep. His method was to do fifty things at the same time. Burke enjoyed that way of working. It kept the night moving. When Burke was really jamming, he could get done by two, two-thirty, and screw off for a few hours.

Burke had a full night ahead of him so he got right to work. Twenty gallons of pizza sauce, twenty gallons of spaghetti sauce, twenty-two pounds of pasta, fifteen Spanish onions, tomatoes, green peppers, and a lot of piddlely shit. And oh yes that ham and onion pizza. What else was there?

Norber started talking. He must have been there a few hours, and had finally warmed up. "Who was that gal on the porch last night?" He asked Burke. Burke loved that word-gal. It was so—so Norber.

"What chick?" Burke replied.

"That blonde one who laughed a lot," he answered.

"Hell, Norber, there was only about fifty people on the porch last night" Burke said. Burke thought that ol' Norb decided not to pursue it-he was staring at the door handle of the pizza oven with a blank smile on his face.

"The one that kept laughing at all your antics," he said after an unusually long pause. Burke knew damn well which one, but was stringing him along. There was a beautiful young woman over last night. She arrived with a group. They decided to go down the block and investigate the insides of a house that had been condemned. This girl found some dresses left in a closet from days long ago. They looked like movie costumes, they were elegant and old. That wasn't the best part though. She was so eager to try on her spoils that she changed outfits right there in the center of the room. That girl stripped down completely nude in front of everyone and tried on every dress right there in the Space Room, totally uninhibited. Eyeballs were bulging. At first Burke was a bit taken back, but no one else complained. Burke, sure as hell, did not mind too much.

All raiders were putting their spoils on display. One guy found a shotgun that was missing its stock. TJ found a bottle opener key chain, something that he could use. He even had key to put on it. That surprised Burke..

"I think that she was someone's girlfriend," Burke replied to Norber.

Norber was lost in thought, with good reason. Her waist was sucked in and everything else was bulging out. She was no match for Sunni though, everyone knew that.

Norber smiled. Burke found himself smiling too. It was time to make the sauce.

Burke had fun running around like a chicken with his head cut off for a few hours. Jamming. He consumed massive quantities of peproccini, drank pints of Pepsi, and smoked half of a pack of cigarettes while boiling pounds of pasta and of course oaring the sauce. The time flew. It was soon after two o'clock. The first big rush of the night was due. That is when the bars closed. There wasn't a late night 'burger bar, or a burrito joint. International cuisine meant Pizza. About the only two places that were open this time of night was PI's and The Hole, doughnut shop.

Shortly after two Burke came down to help behind the counter as was his custom. The best thing he liked about the after bar blast were the patrons that returned to PI's like cattle to the barn after a day chewing cud. High flying Pizza seekers. They were a curious group. The two o'clock rush was never disappointing.

The multitudes lined up at the counter, eyes blood shot, hair unkempt; with stinking breath they ordering strange food combinations. Sondra was at the cash register taking orders. When Burke came down from the kitchen she was pointing at an item on the menu board behind him, check pad in hand. Sondra looked like a witless version of the statue of liberty. (Give me your huddled masses, your tired, your drunk....). Burke laughed at his own vision.

The rock'n roll boys showed up. Wearing that teased up kind of hair, eye make-up, high heels, and the whole bit. Pursuing the rock'n roll dream. Burke knew their kind; they were always onstage. The one with salon sculpted hair ordered first.

"OK I'll have a spaghetti aldente with-do you have alfredo sauce?"

Go change your pad, earring boy. This is a man's pizza pub not a bistro!

"No, only red sauce with meat in it."

"Well, what kind of meat is it anyway?"

"I don't know, it comes in a plastic bag."

"Ok I'll have that."

Burke recognized the next person in line. Fauna. "Hi Banyon," she said to Burke with a huge open-mouthed smile. "Working late?" she inquired. "Yeah" Burke said. It would be later than she thought.

"Dora tells me she got to know you quite well the other day," she broke into a devilish smile. "When am I gonna get to know you better Mr. Banyon Burke?" She said. "I've been waaaating."

"Hey nothing happened-what did she tell you?" Burke said. Burke felt as though he knew Fauna quite well enough already. He had met her working partner at a party, and they had a lot of laughs but she was well, a dancing massage girl after all. Working the business out of a step-van. Not much chance for romance here.

"Well I'm sure you can appreciate how we much missed you last night" Fauna continued. "Man we were partying our asses off, had the Grateful Dead blasting, you really should have been there."

"Well you know, I can't make 'em all. I had a yoga class last night." He cringed inside at how lame that sounded, but she seemed to go for it. "Well," Fauna said, "call me anytime lover boy, I can show you a GOOD time. I'll even let you touch my tattoo."

"Hey I will." Burke said, pointing at her.

Fauna had something about her; something exotically sublime. Her thick brown hair framed her face like a mane. And that sent-astounding! With just the faintest trace-a subtle almost cat-like musk lying deep down in the layers like a wonderful afterthought. Her sent aroused and beckoned unsuspecting man prey. She was one dangerous creature. Fauna's rippled 'abs' were exposed daring Burke to look, and when he did he could see a delicate silver ring, passing in and out of her tender flesh on the starboard side of that award winning belly button. Burke could not help wonder if there were others too. Fauna was a work of art. Tight as a stretched rope-ready to snare somebody. Although Burke found her exquisite, she was too savage for his likes. He had no intentions of consummating their friendship. Fauna and her partner Dora worked in a massage parlor. The parlor lost its business license last summer, and now was operating out of a van. These were industrial strength women, not for the faint of heart.

As she turned to walk away Burke spied a hole in the ass of her jeans. Peeking out was a tantalizing bit of crimson satin. He watched with great anticipation, the crimson satin circle swaying back and forth until it had disappeared into the crowd, not realizing that his head was swaying to her movement. He went over to the counter and got himself a drink of cold water. The room seemed to be warm all of a sudden.

"Hey shit for brains, you gonna wait on customers, or just stand there with you head bobbing like a dashboard dog?" This had to be the one, the only: Mr. Jak Leads; stoned to the bone; drunk and disorderly. His buddy.

"Nack, was cookin' tonight" he said.

"Hey nice shoes" Burke commented.

"Well if you had returned the one you borrowed...I wouldn't have had to borrow one from General Marchbank." Jak replied. It was contagious. They were all beginning to wear facsimiles of Mostly-Bob's shoe ensemble. That was scary.

"Have you been back to the house tonight?" Burke inquired.

"Yeah TJ's got some people over (His third tour???). No one I knew though" Jak said. Burke knew the feeling.

"I ran some bath water and somebody used it" He said, and he was serious. "Probably was one of TJ's friends."

Burke started laughing to himself. "You ran that fourteen hours ago. I took it; your name should be shit for brains!" He wondered if Jak realized that he stole both his bath and shoe.

"I can't help it I got distracted." Jak returned.

The phone rang. Norber picked it up and began talking. "Burke, it's for you," he said. "It's a lady that says she spotted your cat on the roof of the liquor store," he said.

"The roof?-are you sure?"

"That's what she said. She recognized Pandora by her collar."

Pandora was the house cat, a black one to be sure. When she was a kitten, someone brought home a bottle of Zeller Schwartz Katz, or The Black Cat German wine. Adorning the bottle was a little plastic black cat. TJ put that symbol around Pandora and it became her trademark.

Pandora was a popular regular at two of the closest bars. Some of her social skills were quite acute--until she had too much to drink at which point her bladder control fell off noticeably and sometimes she would scratch people for no apparent reason. Still the local drunks loved partying with her.

Pandora's flight to the liquor store bothered Norber-did Pandora have a drinking problem?

"You've got to go get her right now" announced Norber. He was sympathetic, because he had two cats of his own. "She needs you-don't let her down."

"You mean you want me to leave her up there?"

"You know what I mean-NOW Please Hurry!!"

Burke rushed the door, a free man once again. As soon as he stepped outside an arm grabbed him. It was Sunni. He immediately understood the brilliance of Sunni's scam.

"Hi-ya partner; wanna go to a party?" she asked.

"I thought you were going home?"

"Well I ran into a friend who insisted that I join the party, and naturally I thought of you-so I sprung 'ya."

"Cool - let's get the hell out of here."

They headed off into the night. A few blocks away they walked into another old and elegant house, much like the Elm St. house. The place was bustling with busy, busy partiers. Burke and Sunni had to quickly move aside as a gang of guys carrying in a key quickly moved through. There were people sitting on the roof drinking and having fun.

The joint was jammed to the walls with students smokin'- 'n- jokin.' There were day-glo black velvet posters: like "Scuse me while I kiss the sky...." Decorating the walls and a lava lamp in the corner. The music was oppressive, the bass notes kept kicking Burke in the chest. The air smelled like sandalwood scented smoldering cow shit. Sunni made a path through the crowd and led Burke by the hand to the kitchen. There was a card game going on: Poker--Strip poker. Three were seated at the table: two guys and a gal. Burke immediately noticed two things about the woman.

1) She was either a terrible card player, or an exhibitionist, for she was stark raving naked.

2) She must have weighed over 400 pounds.

Entertainment at it's best. Having lost everything, even the shirt off her back, the woman gave up and got up. She had nothing left to lose. Burke watched with great interest how her body covering seem to move independently of her frame. Her breasts were swinging left and right, while here stomach heaved up and down. There were ripples running up the back of her legs terminating into large quivering butt. She had a gelatinous quality about her. "Sometimes the cards aren't worth a dime, if you don't lay them down" she said as she wandered off into the party.

"Common Sunni," one of the players called, "seat's still warm!"

Suddenly everyone in the area started chanting "Sunni, Sunni, Sunni, Sunni"

"OK I'll join" she returned, "but I'm bringing my friend into the game. You guys are all alike, you just wanna see my hooters -don't-cha? That isn't what's going to happen here. I'll have these three big lugs down to their skivvies in no time flat." She was wearing her pouty look again. Burke was in heaven.

The two players had to quickly re-dress so that they would be at full value. One guy had tattoos all over his body-down his arms like fake sleeves. The other had various piercings, and a fu-man-chu mustache that went down his neck to his chest. Talk about scary guys!

The game progressed slowly at first; a wristwatch, a ring, a shoelace. But after a while it became quite noticeable that Sunni was having the same luck as the chairs previous occupant. Burke's mind was beginning to spin in a disconcerting cycle of ambivalence. First he wanted to see her...very badly, but she was off limits to the rest of the world. OFF LIMITS-YOU SEE. Another round, 'n round, 'n round. They rapidly were approaching Brassiere layer. Burke felt as if his head was going to explode. His emotions whirled 'round his heart like a cyclone. Very soon something would have to happen. It did.

"Sunni-Sunni you have a phone call" someone shouted from within the center of the room.

Sunni grabbed her handful of jewelry and clothes, and ran off. The three remaining looked at each other with a look that said: "I'll be dipped in shit and rolled in sawdust if you think I'm stripping for you." So they waited a moment. Then another. Finally they began putting on their shirts. Sonofabitch! It made no sense to continue playing; the game was over. Burke walked over to where Sunni was sitting. He looked down and noticed that her shoes were still sitting there on the floor. He picked them up and began working his way through the crowd looking for her. He went everywhere and asked nearly everyone. Yep she was gone-again. He made his way toward the door. The obese naked gelatin woman was gesturing Burke over to where she was. "Hey commover here. I've got something to show you!" Burke continued toward the door. He had seen too much already.

He looked at his watch. "Holy shit-Norber's gonna kill me" he remarked under his breath, and hurriedly begun his return to PI's, shoes still in hand. Burke felt dejected. He was hurting, and once again alone. Alone. He passed an old woman leaning on an overturned crate, apparently homeless. She was alone too. Her whole world was contained in the shopping cart beside her. Burke looked down and noticed that she was barefoot. He had a concerned look on his face as he handed the woman Sunni's shoes. The old woman looked up. A smile appeared on her face. She looked at peace.

"God Bless you son..."

"You too."