by Brad Rose
He wasn’t a very good speller, and after her graduated he couldn’t find a job. It was a damn shame about that hair, too. He couldn’t afford a haircut, so he let grow long, even though he received the most rebuking looks whenever he strolled through town. Once, he made a reservation at a fancy restaurant in the most tony part of the city, just so he could prove to his new wife that - although he was pretty much a failure and worked now as a simple clerk - he still loved her, more than anything in the universe. When the Maître de finally called out his name, it was, of course, wrong. "Mr. I.N. Stein," he snidely announced, with a mocking tone of formality, “your table is ready.”
Brad Rose can be reached here.