Dear Mr. Flounder: There’s this guy in my class who, like, really likes me, and I, like, like him and all, but I don’t know if I, like, like him the way he likes me. So, like, what should I do? ——Sincerely, The Girl in the Third Row with the Red Top On, the One with the Little Hearts.
Dear Miss: Atmospheric conditions and unusual sunspot activity are making contact with the higher planes spotty today. In my vision, I see a splendid horse in a meadow of asphodel, or it may be asphalt, and the horse is romping up and down, up and down, as horses do, its mane billowing like an ocean wave, and its tail flying like a banner behind it, longer and longer; and the flowers in the meadow wave as the horse romps past, unless it is a meadow of asphalt, in which case they are probably traffic cones or some such thing; and there seem to be birds twittering, although that could just be interference on the astral waves in the 750-milliliter band; and as the horse romps up and down, up and down, the tail gets longer and longer, and more and more like a banner, until there seem to be letters forming on it, indistinct, but growing more and more distinct as the tail unfurls more and more, until I can just about read what they say, which seems to be something like “Don’t give that creep the time of daj.” I am not sure what that message portends, the last word being unfamiliar to me; and of course it could merely be that interference again; but at any rate please write again if you need more advice, and perhaps the next time the sunspots will not be so aggressive.