You wake up on the couch, folded up like an ugly pair of jeans in a cheap thrift shop. You look up at the clock: the big hand is on the eleven, the small hand is on the six. Holy mackerel! Using higher deductive techniques, you realize that you must have slept all day-- right through your big final, right through any chance you ever had of graduating.

 You curse the world, you curse yourself for being a part of it, and then you trek downstairs for a yummy dinner a la Schmaka.

 You hit Schmaka and decide to take advantage of the delicious cuisine that the master chiefs have somehow prepared in mass quantity. Ah! Schmakan delicacies. You grab some grub and sit down to dine with the only four people that you recognize of the few hundred Schmakan diners.

 You chat a while with your "friends" and then, as all dinner conversations do in wholesome American families, the discussion turns to each person's daily activities. Bob reports having asked one question in class while Patty's highlight was feeding a peanut to an innocent squirrel. Suddenly all eyes are on you. What did you do today? You didn't spend your whole day in the UC, did you? You realize that this may be an opportunity to reveal all and score some points on the "cool-o-meter."

If you decide to share your story with them, turn to Page 56.

 

If you want to keep all the glory to yourself, turn to Page 42.