Your move, Holy Man.

"Hey! Hey Joey!"

Shit. I almost started to walk faster, but realized that would only prove that I in fact had heard him.

I had recently been appointed Special Envoy to the Vatican by the Do-Land National Council for Appointing Things. As such I had a lot of free time, and had taken to striding importantly around the campus of the University of Do-Land, oggling the U-Do co-eds and basically just basking in my own self-importance.

Had it not been for the presence of this clown, who was now tailing me, it would have been the perfect gig.

"Hey, wait up! How's it going?"

Pretending to be lost in thought, I avoided responding to him for the maximum plausible time. Finally, feeling silly, I feigned surprise, "Oh, hello Zane, I didn't see or hear you, I was lost in thought, you see."

"Hah! Just like you! Whatcha thinking about, little boys? Eh! Ha, just kidding man."

I smiled faintly at his droll anti-Catholicism. Living in Do-Land had taught me toleration in dealing with the sex-addled buffoonery typical of its inhabitants; I had long ago ceased to educate them, opting instead to teach by example, in itself a difficult task, my melancholy good-looks and dry ("mature") sense of humor had me nearly tripping backwards into the panties of nubile pre-psych majors. I would often shake my head in self-disgust while watching them brush the post-coital knots out of their silky, strong young hair. 'You have an old soul?' Where did I come up with such drivel, and why did I use it so often?

"Hey, so Joe, I got this design for human powered flight I want to you take a look at..."

He was constantly showing me well-drawn designs for poorly-thought out devices. Why me? I was once as confused as you probably are now, but I think I figured it out: Me, Catholic. Catholic, Italy. Italy, Leonardo Da Vinci. Leonardo, some book Zane probably had read when he was twelve.

"Ok, so, using balsa wood with goose feathers that I've collected..." The drawing showed Zane himself with large mock goose wings strapped to his arms.

"Zane," I tried to interrupt him. "Zane! Stop, look, this plan is more or less the same plan as the last one your showed me. Substituting goose feathers for pigeon feathers isn't going to make a whole hell of a lot of difference."

"I... no, this plan is diff..."

"It's the same plan! Did you not watch science shows when you were a kid? Have you not seen the old stock footage of guys with their 'zany' flying devices? Running off of cliffs, falling into lakes, diving for cover as their machine explodes, all accompanied by wacky floopa-floopa-floopiddy-whee sound effects?"

I had touched a nerve. He was still slightly limping from a mishap earlier that month. He had two fingers that he couldn't bend all the way. He was hard of hearing in his left ear. All were injuries from previous attempts at flight.

He looked at his plan, and back at me. "What's wrong with you, don't you want to fly?"

I sighed sharply. "It's not about wanting to fly or not wanting to fly, Zane. Of course I would like to fly. But when I've seen over and over, throughout history and with you personally, a failure to achieve that flight, it just kinda makes me wonder what's wrong with you, that you can't see that what you want, unfettered freedom from gravity, is simply not possible under your own power."

He snorted bitterly, tensing his lips and furrowing his brow. "Yeah? Well what about you?"

I tilted my head, "Me? What do you mean?"

He stared at me as if I couldn't possibly be as dense as I seemed. I thought it ironic that he should be the one doing the staring, he had scars from trying to fly, of all things.

"I mean, look at you man, you're like, the biggest hypocrite ever, I mean, how old are you anyway?" His lower lip began to quiver, he turned and walked off, looking back over his shoulder once with a hateful and penetrating glare as he shouted, "You should be ashamed! They do have feelings you know!"

"What in the hell was that all about?" I asked myself. I shrugged, glad it was over. I was anxious to get to the coffee house, to make sure I got a good table in the corner, the one with the overhead lighting that made my eyes seem darker and more mysterious.