"How long, how long," he thought to himself, yet anyone in the room would have warned he was yelling at the top of his voice.

He had just had to send, to the only member of his fiction listserv needing it, a "2nd reminder" for the member to get his frickin' story in, and save his membership.

Ellison. It was always this Jim Ellison. What kind of jerk would join such a listserv, with so many great members, and not do his dues. He had investigate this Jim Ellison person, this rude, un-answering listserv member and found out the he was a guy on the local Cascade police force, yes: a Pig!---who was constantly getting reported by dosing off on the job with his eyes open. Or hanging around the police station in the Major Crimes Division (where, presumably, they did not bother investigating, those pigs!, crimes committed on privates, private-first-classes, lieutenants, or even French fur trappers who were part-time film critics like he was). A former girlfriend had told Sandburg that whenever pizza or food was delivered to the squad room for that division, Ellison would go into a trance, with his tongue hanging out, and drool on the paperwork on his desk.

Ellison also had the darned annoying habit of SINGING ALONG, badly, with any music in his vicinity, and the other detectives had had to turn the radio to all-talk and have birthday parties at nightclubs when it was the bands night off. Brown, still, had the habit of humming.... particularly;y humming his favorite song; "It's all coming back to me" which Brown hummed quietly without knowing it...until Ellison would jump up on the nearest desk or car and belt out the lyrics, badly, for 5 and a half minutes.

I hate Ellison, thought Blair. Glad I don't spend time with him. He'd make a lousy friend.

But just last night Blair had gone to see Ice Age and when Sid the Sloth, at the beginning of the movie, said "Nobody loves me. Nobody loves Sid the Sloth," Blair had been grateful to be in the dark theater,as tears came to his eyes and he whimpered.

If only, somewhere out in the world, there was a friend, someone.... at least someone better than this dreadful Jim Ellison, that could just be his friend.

He'd given up on having a girlfriend years ago, and he wasn't gay. NOTHING worked out. Blair Sandburg raised his letter opener and considered....

END