"Are you effen shitting me?", Dave exclaimed. "What's the trouble, Pud?", asked Connie. Dave rolled out this version for her: "You know that ding-dong who writes everyday and I can't believe I got hooked, but I'm reading what he just wrote and it's about this really big event that's ready to happen and he builds up the build up and just when I can't wait to see what it is, it cuts off like a cell phone in a tunnel." "So why's that upsetting you?, Angela Lansbury in a sun dress", Connie joked. "Oh, forget it - ", Dave mumbled as he walked outside. It was one of those spectacular summer mornings, the sun just peeking from the rooflines and a pleasant coolness characterized by the shaded beauties sticking out of the pots in the shade. Dave was so aligned with his on-line jester that it really did bug him that he was deprived of the typical happily ending from the day's tale. Then he heard the car door slam out back and the Euro-centic neighbors behind him were gabbing about something, their voices slightly agitated. Dave was uncurious about their discussion which exemplifies his contradiction - he's like a giggling gossip about words on his monitor that are unreal and he's uninterested in his real neighbors' episodes. Connie brought his attention to his favorite place when she came back out in her sexy little summer top and sandals that turned him on. Pretty hard to get excited about anyone when Connie's in the room. She's a New Earth gal through and through, something she passed on to Dave when they first met. Accepting the strength-giving power of the collective conscious and knowing the true way to Dave's heart is not just through his stomach //cue Er-uh-er-uh music here. In the time it took to write this down, three more fantasies involving Connie were sent to the CC. Today may be the last of the quiet time they shared all week but it's the first of many hot days made better by their time shifting. Now about that ding-dong . . .