On my outside life and trickiness.

<Talking to two former students in the hallway before class, one of my new freshmen comes up.>
“Welcome!”
Current student: “Miss, were you driving by Agnew two days ago at like, 9:15pm in a silver car with your windows down and a white dog sticking its head out the window while you were playing the Jump On It song?”
Both former students chrorus: “Yes.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“Really? Because it looked like you. Okay-“
“Wait, son-“
“You said too much. Most of that’s probably right. But you don’t know how to ask it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Miss V, which part of that whole thing was wrong?”
“It wasn’t the ‘Jump On It’ Song.”
“Yes it was!”
“No, it was a song called Apache by the Sugarhill Gang that came out in the 90s. The Jump On It song was a 2000s remake by Sir Mixalot that talks about specific cities. It’s also good, but not the same.”
<Current to former> “She’s complicated and tricky.”
“Most women are.”
“But Miss V, she really is. No guy has managed to figure her out yet.”
“Hey now-“
“How do you know that?”
<Picks up my left hand.>
“I don’t see no ring on this finger.”

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