With and Without Class Read Free Page A

exciting to watch through the microscope. Sort of a peep show for people.
    What would happen with these Bonkers from time-to-time is that both a male and a female would expend all romantic options and turn to outside parties to help form an alliance. This was called a Blind Date. It was called a Blind Date because neither party was able to see the other prior to their first meeting.
    There was this one couple that got set up on such a date. The male was named Mason foot because he had this sedimentary thing not completely unlike a foot. The female was named Cola Eyes since her eyes beamed sugary, caffeinating brown.
    Before Mason Foot left his abode for the evening, he bonked a trusted female friend: “How does my foot look this evening and since it is what helps me bear my name, does it bear it well?”
    She bonked back: “Modest male friend—true companion, I have never lied to you and, so, as such, now I bonk: Might’ve you of done something to fasten up the chariots and guard the oarsmen against a foul wind?”
    â€œWhat?” Mason Foot bonked in befuddlement. Bonking being a relatively new form of communication among Bonkers since Bonkers had evolved their entire civilization incredibly quickly—in a matter of weeks, actually.
    â€œOh, I don’t know,” she bonked. “It is masonry but is it also a foot? One can never be too sure. Do this: speak to her in high-pitched squeals and prance it about. But, be masculine. Be erudite; be calm; be poised; but be rugged and masculine. Be a lover and a fighter, be both poet and prince. Be modest as a pauper and kind as a saint. But, use trickery if it be to both your goodly advantage. If her back itches from intemperate, stray weeds, buy her a newspaper and read some funnies. If the funnies turn her aghast with melancholy, swear to her you understand her mythologies of mirth. If she eats a bite, nibble the feathery ostrich and find an usher that can seat you promptly for the show.”
    â€œSound advice!” Mason Foot bonked. “I got my wordsworth—and twice!” he bonked again.
    Later on, both Blind Date Bonkers were seated at a fancy restaurant that had flaming gobos and honey-sweet swatting shimshams with tintercating mismots. Neither of them had released a single bonk from fear and nervousness of being the first to bonk and, of course, also of over-bonking. Presently, the waiter appeared and bonked thus:
    â€œDear sir and dear madam, would you like to hear me bonk of these specials? This is not important. I have already bonked—ha ha! you cannot listen to this message in part, or can you?—ha ha! We got rice cakes, we got pandas, we got noodles, we got gurbbling, singsong mashed potatoes and things that go slurp beneath your soup. Please do not sloup your soup, we have a strict policy on that and we enforce it sometimes if we’re bored or we’re all spunty. If you wish to sloup your soup, fill out this flout and undress each other with ravenous complibents… We got shellfish, too.”
    â€œJust a couple of snot shots to start, please,” Mason Foot bonked and the waiter left.
    Still neither one had let out the first bonk of the evening. The tension splouted.
    But then it happened. Both bonks flew out of their mouths at exactly the same time and hurtled through the air and crisscrossed the table and struck them at exactly the same time and they both sounded nearly like this:
    â€œMy—! you are pretty (or handsome) and I was nervous coming here but now I see that this was a good idea. I find you attractive but I don’t want you to butter my toast with margarine on this, our first date (or, I wouldn’t think of buttering your toast although it seems lovely and fresh) and even though it would be fun and who doesn’t enjoy a little extra dairy. Is it hot in here? Have you ever driven to the moon on a moldy