"What's your name?"
"Hmm. Have you ever been to my office? You look familiar."
"Uh. Maybe. It's probably because I look like John Lennon."
"That's right. John Lennon has been in my office. Oh, wait. That's impossible."
"Don't I look like John Lennon? People say I do. I've had these round glasses forever."
"Yes. I was thinking that before I asked you, but I didn't want to say anything because he is dead."
"Did you know all those things that they say about Yoko Ono is true? She really is whacked."
"Never did meet the gal. I knew John long before Yoko."
"Did you know Cynthia died?"
It's college. I can't even make this shit up.
"I didn't really know her."
"Oh." (Thinking...who the fuck is Cynthia?)
"Yoko made a statement about her death. I think the funeral will probably be Saturday."
"O-K." (Lord, this is a trick, right?)
"I can tell by your forehead lines that you don't know who I am talking about."
"Not a clue."
"Oh. Cynthia. Yes. Are you going to the funeral?"
Silence. I couldn't stand it anymore.
"Do you read forehead lines?"
"Yeah. You said you could tell by my forehead lines that I didn't know what you were talking about, so I was wondering if you could read all forehead lines. You know, like reading someone's mind or fortune telling."
"Whew. Good thing. I will keep those thoughts private, then."
Yep. He got up and moved away and ruined all my fun.