Evvie Drake Starts Over

by Linda Holmes

I recently became the faculty advisor to the yearbook, which I’m counting as coaching a sport.

“I’m only good at grilled cheese,” he said. “And Pringles. I’m also good with Pringles.” “Just cans of Pringles, or, like, you cook with Pringles?” “Just Pringles. I buy them, I open the package, and then I stuff them straight into my face.” “Ah. Got it. That’s how I make Oreos,” she said.

“Everything okay?” “Yeah, yeah,” he said, “sorry about the noise. Knocked a box off the counter. It’s never the box with the sheets in it, you know? It’s always whatever will make it sound the most like you tried to murder a robot by throwing it down a couple of flights of stairs.”

There’s this kid Mike Parco, who at the time is eight years old and is a serious, total asshole. I know you’re not supposed to say that about children, but I swear, it takes most men at least two divorces to be as mean as this twerp.

Besides, my favorite sports site recently voted me First Athlete We’d Throw into an Active Volcano, so I don’t think my public image can really be hurt.”

“And the president was…” “Giving the VP the old pocket veto.” Evvie turned toward him. “If we watch this show long enough, I’m going to find out how many governmental sex euphemisms you have.” “I don’t even know myself. Try me again.” “Okay. What was the president doing?” “Giving the VP the old advise and consent.” “Stop.” “Well, stop laughing.”