TRIO LUNCHES AT VERMILLION

Jack O'Connell, who survives teaching at St. Joseph Academy, sat with his eyes barely open while a consultant drone of endlessly about morphemes. Like his students, O'Connell didn't share an interest in morphemes.

Pondering the meaning of a morpheme had lost most meaning for him. Fifty years of existence had lessened his need to know in general. He closed his eyes and day-dreamed. Lunch had been a pleasant experience. Over a shrimp cocktail at the Vermillion, Jack had explained to Sandra and Letty, his younger colleagues, the absurdity of finding the perfect mate.

"Aren't you and Connie happy?" asked Sandra.

"In general, yes, but men are animals," he explained. "They will risk their families, their jobs and their lives for the passing pleasure of a roll in the sack."

"Not all men?" continued a visibly disturbed Sandra.

"Most men," replied Jack. "I've known plenty of men in my life and the majority of them are interested in sleeping with a variety of women.

Sandra and Letty seemed surprised by the information although Jack thought these gals in their early thirties were old enough to have experience enough failures to recognize the worthlessness of males.

"I hate men!" growled Sandra.

"I'm not bothering going out this weekend," echoed Letty. "

If they weren't so choosy, either one of them could have him as her Sancho except he probably couldn't give them the guarantees they were seeking.