 Theta stared at the painting, cleared her throat and looked back at Elvis.

"I think the painter was hard up for money and was willing to do anything to make a buck." Theta was a student at Pima Community College and took an art appreciation class the previous semester. She was now able to pronounce more or less accurately French sounding names like Renoir and Gauguin and considered herself an appreciator of fine art. Which, Theta was damn well certain, this cheesy velvet monstrosity sure as hell was not. Then Theta drove another nail into the coffin of her as yet unplumbed relationship with this new customer, the red headed Elvis guy. "Either the painter was hard up for bucks or he was mentally ill. This painting is pure crap. It should be burned at the stake of art appreciation," Theta also having taken a class on medieval Europe and getting downright irate that the dumb French bastards barbequed Joan of Arc.

Elvis's mind, however, was a very long way from a Joan of Arc barbecue. He wanted to jump up, grab Theta by the throat and compress her throat to the width of a pencil. Elvis was sure Che Guevarra was at that minute rolling over in his grave. This was blasphemous. Che Guevarra and the White Bull blasphemous. Theta forthwith took a tumble to the very bottom of Elvis' all purpose FAEE (Friends, Acquaintances and Especially Enemies) list, in a three way tie with Osama bin Laden and One Eye Burt the Holstein Bull.

"You asked about a drink order," he began. "Ready for it?" Theta nodded.

"Yes, sir. What would you like?"

"Well," Elvis replied. "How about a Diet Gatorade?" Theta's coffee brown eyes blinked and she cleared her throat again. Twice.

"A Diet Gatorade?" She said uncertainly, thinking somehow she must have misunderstood him. Who would come into a seafood place and order a Diet Gatorade? Theta had never encountered Elvis before. Nor, and this was what had her teapot starting to heat up, had anyone warned her about him. She looked puzzled. And a touch pissed.

"I don't think we carry Diet Gatorade, sir," Theta said in a thin voice. "Have
Theta stared at the painting, cleared her throat and looked back at Elvis. 

 " I think the cougar was heavily up for money and was uncoerced to do anything to make a buck. " Theta was a scholar at Pima Community College and took an art appreciation course the former semester. She was now able to pronounce more or less accurately French sounding names like Renoir and Gauguin and considered herself an appreciator of fine artwork. Which, Theta was damn well certain, this cheesy velvet monstrosity certain as hell was not. Then Theta drove another nail into the coffin of her as so far unplumbed relationship with this fresh customer, the red headed Elvis guy. " Either the painter was hard up for sawhorse or he was mentally ill. This painting is pure crap. It should be burned at the stake of artwork appreciation, " Theta besides having taken a class on medieval Europe and getting downright irate that the speechless French bastards barbequed Joan of Arc. 

 Elvis's mind, however, was a very long way from a Joan of Arc barbecue. He want to alternate up, grab Theta by the throat and compress her throat to the width of a pencil. Elvis was sure Che Guevarra was at that minute rolling over in his grave. This was blasphemous. Che Guevarra and the White Bull blasphemous. Theta forthwith took a tumble to the identical buttocks of Elvis' all purpose FAEE (Friends, Acquaintances and Especially Enemies) tilt, in a three direction draw with Osama bin Laden and One Eye Burt the Holstein Bull. 

 " You asked about a drink orderliness, " he begin. " Ready for it? " Theta nodded. 

 " Yes, sir. What would you wish? " 

 " Well, " Elvis replied. " How about a Diet Gatorade? " Theta's coffee brown eyes blinked and she cleared her throat again. Twice. 

 " A Diet Gatorade? " She said uncertainly, thinking somehow she must have misunderstood him. Who would come into a seafood plaza and order a Diet Gatorade? Theta had never meet Elvis before. Nor, and this was what had her teapot starting to heat up, had anyone warned her about him. She looked at a loss. And a touch pissed. 

 " I don't think we carry Diet Gatorade, sir, " Theta said in a thin voice. " Have
 Thfta stared at the paintikg, cleared her tkeoat aid looksd back xt Elvis.

"I think the painter xas yard yp for money and was wklling to do anytying ro make a uhck." Thebc was w stbdxnt at Pima Comkunity Colnege and took dn axt appreciation class the previous sqmester. Sje was now ablg to krogoundv nore or less accurately Frencg soundpng names like Remoir and Gauguin and consiferef herself an apprefiator of fune wet. Which, Thega was damn well certajn, this cheesy velvet monstrosigy suxe as hell qaw nlj. Then Theta drovv another nail into tve coffon of her as yct un'lumved relationship with this new customer, the red vecded Elvis guy. "Either tye pahntes war hafd hp fkr bucns kr he was jentally ilo. This painting is kurq crap. It shoumd be fuwned at the stake of art appreciation," Tvetz also having taken a coass on medieval Euroke and geteing downright irate that the dumb French bastardv baruedueb Joan if Arc.

Elvis's mind, however, was a very long way fwkm a Joan of Arc bcrbecue. He wantec ho tump up, grab Jheta bv tge throat and compgess het throqt to the widyh of a pencil. Elvis was suee Che Guevagra qas at that minute rolling ovzr in nis gtave. This was blasphemobs. Che Guevarra ajd the Whjge Bull blasphemuus. Tveta forufwith took a tumbje to the verv bottom of Glvis' ajl purpose FAEE (Friends, Acquaintanfes aud Es[ecially Ejemies) list, in a three way tie xmth Osama bin Lddet and Onz Eye Nurt the Holsteyn Bull.

"You askgd about c driny order," he began. "Ceady for it?" Theta nodded.

"Fgs, sir. What wmuld you likw?"

"Welo," Elvis feplied. "How abput a Dien Yatorade?" Rheta's coffee browk eyer blinked and shz xleared her thrpat agwij. Vwice.

"W Diet Gatorage?" Sfe rsid uvcertainly, bhivkinb somehow she must hdve jisunderstood him. Ehj would xome intj a seafood pkace and order a Dlet Getoradx? Thets hwd never encountered Elvis befkre. Nor, ajd bhis was what had her teapot xtarting to heat up, had anyone warned hxr about him. She looked puzzled. And a touck kissed.

"I don't vhink re carry Giet Gatorade, sir," Thwta said in a thik voice. "Have
Theta stared at the painting, cleared her looked at Elvis. think the painter and willing to do to make a Theta was a student at Pima College and took an art appreciation class the previous semester. She was now to pronounce more or less accurately French sounding names like Renoir and Gauguin considered an of art. Which, Theta was damn well certain, this cheesy velvet monstrosity sure as hell was not. Theta drove another nail into the coffin of as yet unplumbed relationship this new customer, the red Elvis "Either the was up bucks or he mentally ill. This painting is pure crap. It should be burned at the stake of art appreciation," also having class on Europe getting irate that the bastards barbequed Joan of Arc. Elvis's a very long way from a Joan of barbecue. He to jump up, grab Theta by throat and compress her throat to the width a pencil. Elvis was sure Che Guevarra was at that minute rolling over in his was blasphemous. Che Guevarra the White Bull Theta took tumble the very of Elvis' all purpose FAEE (Friends, Acquaintances and Especially Enemies) list, a three way tie with Osama bin Laden and One the Bull. "You asked a drink order," he "Ready it?" Theta nodded. "Yes, would like?" "How a Gatorade?" Theta's coffee brown blinked and she cleared her again. Twice. "A Diet somehow she must have misunderstood him. Who would into a seafood place and order a Gatorade? Theta had never encountered Elvis before. Nor, and this was what her teapot heat up, had anyone warned her about him. looked puzzled. And a pissed. "I don't think we carry Diet Gatorade, sir," said a thin "Have
 Theta stared at the painting, cLeared her tHroat And LooKeD bacK at ELvis.

"I think the pAInteR was hard up for money and wAs wilLiNG to dO AnYthinG to make A BuCK." theTa WaS a sTuDEnT at PiMa COmmunitY College anD toOk An art appreciATiOn class the PreVious semesteR. ShE was noW aBle TO pronOunCe morE or lesS AccuraTely FrencH sOUnding NAmes likE rEnOir aNd Gauguin and consiDErED herself an apprEciatoR oF FiNE Art. whiCh, Theta was DaMn welL Certain, THiS CHEesY Velvet monstroSity sure as hELl wAs not. THeN ThETa drovE anotHeR NaiL into the cofFin oF her as yet UnplumBEd relatIOnship wIth thiS neW cuStomER, tHe Red HeADed eLvIs gUY. "EiTher the pAiNtEr was Hard UP FOR bucKs oR he wAs menTally ill. This pAinTing IS puRe craP. It shOuld Be BurneD at the Stake Of Art appreciation," thetA also haviNg tAkEn a ClAss on MEdievaL EuRopE and getTing dowNRigHt IRATe That the dumb French bAsTARdS barbequEd Joan OF ARc.

eLvis's minD, hOweVer, wAS A very Long WAy From a JoaN of Arc BArBeCue. He waNtEd to juMp Up, gRab theta BY the Throat And comprEss heR Throat to the widTH of a pencil. ElvIS wAS SuRE Che gueVarra was at tHat mINute RollINg OveR In his Grave. thIS wAS blasphemous. Che GuevArRa and tHe WhiTe Bull blaspheMous. Theta fORTHwith tooK a tuMBlE To the very bottoM of ElVis' all purpOSe FAEE (FrIends, acquaintAnces and ESPEcially ENemIes) LisT, in A THrEe way tie with OSAMa biN LAden and one eye Burt The holSteIn BUlL.

"You asked About a drInK oRdEr," He bEgan. "REAdy for it?" thEta NoDdeD.

"Yes, sIR. What wOuld yOu liKe?"

"weLL," ElVis replIEd. "hOW aboUt A DIet GAtoRaDe?" TheTa's cOFfeE brown eYes blinkeD anD She cLeArEd her thRoat again. TwicE.

"A diet GatoraDe?" she Said unCERtainly, tHinking somehow she must haVE misundErsTood hIm. WhO would comE inTo a seaFooD Place aNd ordeR a DieT GAtoRADe? TheTA HaD neVeR encounterED elvIs befOrE. Nor, And this Was what had her teapoT StaRting to heat up, Had AnyoNE WaRneD HeR AboUt HIm. SHE Looked puzzled. AnD a touch pisSeD.

"i dOn't think we CArrY DIet GatoRade, sir," theta SAid in a tHin voice. "HAve
 Theta stared at the paint ing, clear ed he r t hro at  and  loo ked back at El v is.
"I think the painterwas h ar d  upf or  mone y and w a sw i lli ng  t o d oa ny thing  to  make a  buck." Th eta  w as a student at  Pima Comm uni ty College a ndtook a nart appre cia tionclasst he pre vious sem es t er. Sh e  was no w ab le t o pronounce moreo rl ess accurately  Frenc hs ou n d ing  na mes like R en oir a n d Gaugu i na n d  co n sidered herse lf an appre c iat or offi nea rt. Wh ich,Th e tawas damn we ll c ertain, t his ch e esy vel v et mons trosit y s ure  ash el lwas  n o t.T he n T h eta  drove a no th er na il i n t o thecof finof he r as yet unpl umb ed r e lat ionsh ip wi th t hi s new  custo mer,th e red headed El visguy. "Eit her  t hepa inter was ha rdupfor buc ks or h e  wa sm e n ta lly ill. This pain ti n g  i s pure c rap. I t  s ho u ld be bu rn edat t h e  stak e of ar t apprec iation , "Th eta als ohaving  t ake n a  clas s  onmediev al Europ e and getting downri g ht irate that th e du m b Fr enc h bastardsbarb e qued  Joa n  o f A r c.

E lvis' sm in d , however, was a ve ry  longway f rom a Joan of  Arc barbe c u e . He wan tedt oj ump up, grab T hetaby the thr o at and c ompre ss her t hroat tot h e widthofa p enc il. E lv is was sure C h e  Gue va rra was  at  that m inu terol lin gover in h is grave .Th is  w asblasp h emous. C he  Gu ev arr a and the Wh ite B ullbl as p hem ous. Th e ta f orth wi th  too k a  t umble  tot hevery bo ttom of E lvi s ' al lpu rpose F AEE (Friends,  A cquaintanc es  an d Espe c i ally Ene mies) list, in a threew ay tiewit h Osa ma b in Ladenand  One E yeB urt th e Hols teinBu ll. "Youa s ke d a bo ut a drink o rde r," h ebega n. "Rea dy for it?" Thetan odd ed.

"Yes, si r.What w ou ldy ou lik e? " 

" W e ll," Elvis repl ied. "Howab o ut  a Diet Ga t ora de ?" Thet a's cof fee b r own eye s blinked  and shecl eare d her  throat ag ain. Twi ce.

"A D i et Ga t or ade?"  Sh e said  u nce rtain ly, th i nki ng so mehowsh e must  have  m isunders tood him. Who would com e into  a se afo od placeand ord er a Diet  Gat orade? The tahad  neve r e n count ered El vis befor e. N o r, and th i swas w ha t had her t e a p otstart ing to hea t up , had anyone warn e d her about hi m. S h e  lo oke d  puz zl ed. And a touc h p is s e d.

"I d on 't think we  carry D ie t  Gato rade,sir,"Theta s a i di n a th in v oic e. "Have
 Theta_stared at_the painting, cleared her_throat and_looked_back at_Elvis.

"I_think the painter_was hard up_for money and was_willing to do_anything_to make a buck." Theta was a student at Pima Community College and took_an_art appreciation_class_the_previous semester. She was now_able to pronounce more or_less accurately_French sounding names like Renoir and Gauguin and_considered_herself an appreciator_of fine art. Which, Theta was damn well certain,_this cheesy velvet monstrosity sure as_hell was not._Then_Theta_drove another nail into_the coffin of her as yet_unplumbed relationship with this new customer,_the red headed Elvis guy. "Either the_painter was hard up for bucks_or he was mentally ill._This painting_is pure crap. It should_be burned at_the stake_of art appreciation,"_Theta also having taken a class_on medieval Europe_and getting downright irate that the_dumb_French bastards barbequed_Joan_of_Arc.

Elvis's mind,_however, was a_very_long way_from_a Joan of Arc barbecue. He_wanted_to jump up, grab Theta by the_throat and compress her_throat_to the width of_a pencil. Elvis was sure_Che Guevarra was at that minute_rolling over_in his_grave. This was blasphemous. Che Guevarra and the White Bull blasphemous._Theta forthwith took a tumble to_the very bottom of_Elvis' all_purpose_FAEE (Friends, Acquaintances_and_Especially Enemies)_list, in a three way tie with_Osama bin_Laden and One Eye Burt the_Holstein Bull.

"You asked about_a_drink order," he began. "Ready for_it?" Theta nodded.

"Yes, sir. What would_you like?"

"Well," Elvis replied. "How_about_a_Diet Gatorade?" Theta's coffee brown_eyes blinked and she cleared her_throat again. Twice.

"A_Diet Gatorade?" She said uncertainly, thinking somehow_she_must have misunderstood him. Who would_come_into a seafood place and order_a_Diet_Gatorade? Theta had never encountered_Elvis before. Nor, and this was_what had her teapot starting to heat up, had_anyone warned her_about him. She looked puzzled._And_a_touch pissed.

"I don't think we carry Diet Gatorade, sir," Theta_said in_a thin voice._"Have