Play Opening Theme
| 174K au file |
"Mom," I said, "how did you know I was here?"
ctober. I was melting into a couch in bucolic Davis, California, when the registered pure taste of Wiedemann Beer took hold. Lord knows there was a bad enough flavor in my mouth from watching the baseball playoffs on the idiot box, and the mucus membranes in my nose were singed by Davis' ubiquitous aroma of cow-pies. The ringing phone shook me from my stupor. Mom had tracked me down on my clandestine weekend away from college.
"Unimportant," she grumbled. "You got a letter from Merv Griffin Enterprises."
"Is Merv going to settle my palimony suit out of court?" I asked, fraught with anticipation.
"Louis Craig, don't tell me about your polymorphous perversity!" she bellowed. "That's personal. This is business. You're trying out for the Jeopardy! College Championships."
"W-w-w-what?"
"Next month! Bone up, my worthless progeny — it's about time for your flaccid brain to reap some profit!"
She hung up. The dial tone became my mantra as I tried to recall how I even got considered. Then it came to me. Those two weeks I spent in the sleepy burg of Port Townsend, Washington. After a bout with the six beer sampler at a local pub, I bought a postcard depicting a loggers' convention. The address of Earth First! slipped my mind, so I mailed it to Jeopardy! instead. Dionysian Karma had been oh-so-good to me.
