Happy Melissa Day

Today is the birthday of my kindergarten best friend. I haven't seen her in 25 years but I still recall the day she stood on top of my stuffed Garfield to prevent me from leaving her house. We had been arguing about something I don't recall, but my insufficient appreciation of Barry Manilow was a frequent source of tension. Seeing my helpless Garfield, his Cheeto-colored face sink beneath her indignant 60 pound frame filled me with a fury I could barely contain. Fury, and pragmatism, led me to run at her like a wild bull, knocking her clean off my precious, with whom I made a hasty escape. It was the first time I ever touched someone with malevolent intent. Not to worry, countless shovings off my bike and into ditches left the karmic balance restored. Somewhere in my mind I've chalked up these moments in our relationship to her having to share her special day with an oracle varmint.