American Chimpanzee

Chapter Three    I can't wait.   I have to call Kate. She'll be ecstatic. And elated. And enraptured. And other words that begin with e and make me glad I own a Thesaurus.   "Who's this?" she demands when she answers the phone.   To the point, as ever.   "Kate!" I squeal. "It's Ana!"   "Who?"   "Ana. Ana Steele."   "Doesn't ring a bell."   "Ana, your roommate."   "Ana?"   "Yes!"   Finally.   "My roommate?"   "Yes!"   "Ana's not home," she cheeches to my chong.   As predicted, when I am finally able to prove my identity by answering a gauntlet of password questions, she is euphoric.   "Wait a minute," she says, cutting me off. "Anthony Weiner just texted me those photographs you were telling me about. I'm looking at them now... ewww! "   "What's wrong?"   "Let's ...

Chapter Two    My heart is pounding.   I never should have had the Heart Attack Grill's two-for-one Lard Special with the free Diet Coke. I don't care what the Coca-Cola Company says, I bet there's some empty calories in there somewhere. They don't all dissipate in an effervescent sparkle of fizz once you pop the top, like my mother used to tell me.   When the elevator finally spits me out on the first floor with a grunt, I'm more confused than a Hollywood starlet sitting in front of a plate of food.   What the crap had just happened?   On my drive back home, I think about a lot of things. I think about whether there will ever be peace in the Middle East. I think about whether we will ever judge each other by the content of our character, and not the color of our highlights. I think about what I'm going to eat when I get home.   Speaking about getting home...    When I get home Katherine-- Kate --must still be feeling sick, becaus...