"Master of Delusion"

Jason Snell

She nodded and smiled. "I'm not worried," she said, "I don't know if you know it or not, but everyone at school trusts you."

I nodded, while laughing a little bit inside. The small two-page hypnosis guide I got from the local computer hacker was the only thing separating me from all the other people at the high school, including Sandy.

"Now, I want you to sit back and relax." I took a candle out of my desk drawer. Her eyes, which had begun to drift closed, popped open.

"What's the candle for?" she asked, not as suspiciously as curiously.

What was it that the "Guide to Hypnotism" had said?

"The candle is to, uh, relax and calm you, so your mind is more susceptible to suggestion. That way, I can begin to prepare you for the next session."

"Oh, okay." She closed her eyes, and left it at that. I honestly don't know why these people trust me. I certainly wouldn't trust myself.

"Now, relax and concentrate on the candle flame. Watch the flame slowly move back and forth. As it moves back and forth, you can feel yourself becoming calmer. All your stress leaves your body, and you are completely relaxed. Your mind is floating free of all tensions, and your worries have left you." My relaxing talk went on for a few more minutes, but I was wondering if I really needed it. After all, everybody always seemed to be completely relaxed in my presence.

"You are now experiencing hypnosis," I said in my soft tones, "and it does not feel in the least bit menacing. This is but the first in a series of hypnosis sessions which will increase your self assurance and my Biology grade. You can now open your eyes and the hypnosis session will be concluded."

As she opened her eyes I blew out the candle and walked over to the window. I pulled the shade down, and it rolled back up into place at the top of the window. Light filled the room.

"Well, that's all for today," I said to Sandy. "We can do this again... maybe next week?"

"Sure, that'd be nice," she said in a relaxed tone. My little suggestions seemed to work wonders.

On Wednesday, I called Sandy and asked if she could come over on Friday. She said she could stop by for a few minutes, but she was planning on doing things Friday night. I didn't bother to ask what. Partying's not my kind of thing. If I lost control of my faculties, I might let it slip that I'm not as competent as they all think I am. And I can't let that happen.

Friday, after school, I met Sandy on the way to the school parking lot. I don't have a car, and it's just as well because I'd probably wreck it in a split second.

Now let me make this perfectly clear-- Sandy's a really nice girl, and she's actually quite pretty, but I was never interested in her. Really. Now, I know that guys like me always seem to have a reputation for slobbering all over any girl who might give us the time of day, but that's just not true. Besides, my friend Steve always had it bad for Sandy. He wanted her. Everywhere she went, he followed. In fact, he was the one who suggested I get Sandy as my subject.

Do you get the impression that my hypnosis experiment wasn't exactly based on scientific curiosity? Very smart, my friend, very smart. Indeed it wasn't.

So, anyway, Sandy and I got into her car, a cute little '68 Mustang, and we drove on over to my house. She had her car radio blasting "Tequila Sunrise" and was wearing tight blue jeans and a denim jacket. I must tell you, I felt like quite an important guy, riding out of the high school parking lot in a hot car, driven by a cute babe, blasting some tunes. And we were going back to my house, no less. Not bad.

Then again, everyone thought I was an expert before then. No doubt I just hypnotized her into being this way. Yeah, right. I couldn't hypnotize a chicken into laying an egg. Hell, I couldn't hypnotize it into clucking.

When we got to my house and had gone inside, I pulled out my calendar and began planning when we'd hold the next four hypnosis sessions over the next week. Then I'd have the entire week to write up my report and get an excellent grade in Biology. The teacher loved me, and besides, he probably thought I was an expert too. My Biology grade was most definitely cake.

"Tommy," Sandy said to me in a deep, sexy voice, "I want you to read something of mine. Would you?"

My voice went up two octaves, but I still managed to squeak out "Sure!" to her. Sign me up for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and fast. Either that, or gag me and tie me to a tree.

Sandy took a piece of paper from her purse and handed it to me. I unfolded it and found that it was a poem. A love poem.

The first part, "My heart's passion is for you/My life breaks without you near" was really dumb. But I liked the end bit: "Wherever you go, my Love,/I will follow in the skies above." I mean, she rhymed love and above. Now that's good poetry.

"Now that's good poetry," I said to her.

"Really? Oh, thanks, Tommy! I'm so glad you like it!" She gave me a kiss on the cheek. Sigh.

After we completed our little planning session and poetry workshop, we headed for the door. As I opened my front door for her, I began to speak out words that I had been composing for all of-- well, all of two seconds. They dropped right out of my mouth.

"I really want to thank you, Sandy. Without you, my Biology grade would be in serious trouble." Yeah, sure. "And you know how hard it would have been for me to find anyone willing to volunteer to be hypnotized-- hypnotism scares people." Mister humble.

She batted her eyelashes at me, in a way that made me wish Steve was here to see it. "Oh, Tommy," she said, "every girl I know would have done this. Anything to be able to experience you in action." I don't know whether there was an underlying meaning to that statement, but I was afraid to find out.

"Oh. Well, whatever," I said.

I guess I'm just the master of impromptu speaking. Somebody please stop me, before I stick both of my feet in my mouth.

She bid me farewell, muttering a typical high school "seeyalater", and was about to turn around when my good buddy Steve, wonderful master of timing Steve, walked up the driveway. Sandy turned around, and, seeing him, smiled politely. She then turned around, crossed her eyes at me, and got into her car. I guess it was her sly way of telling me that she liked me better than him.

Sandy had started up the car and driven out when Steve's voice crept into my head.

"Oh, man, she smiled at me," he was saying in his pathetic love-induced tone which I had heard far too much for comfort. "This is great. Now look, Tom. I called her up, begged her to call you, and she's now your hypnosis subject. She wouldn't have done it if it weren't for me."

I didn't have the heart to mention about how well-loved I was, about how all of the girls wanted me to pick them for my Biology project.

"So you've got to do this for me, Tom." Then he started with his scheme. "We agreed that if I got Sandy to be your guinea pig, you'd hypnotize her into loving me."

"Oh, was that the plan, Steve? I seem to recall something vaguely along those lines." I had agreed to Steve's plan, of course. If you've been paying close attention, though, you'll realize that I had absolutely nothing backing up that little promise of mine. Relaxing her was going to be tough enough as it was.

"Good. Thanks, Tom!" Steve was happy again. "Can I watch Dave with you?"

Sure, I told him, I'djustloveit. Watching Letterman with Steve was a seriously lame experience. Not only were the subtleties of Stupid Pet Tricks beyond his grasp, but even the meaning of Paul Shaffer completely eluded him. Simpleton.

He was probably my best friend, though, so I put up with it.

Saturday was a pretty lousy day, in the grand scheme of things. I was, of course, anxiously awaiting my second special session Sunday with Sandy. You know that any event involving that much alliteration has gotta be good. But that was still a day away, and so my Saturday was instead spent with Steve. What a weenie.

I mean, first off, I had to listen to him moan and complain about Sandy, which was bad enough. But then he conned me into going to the movies with him.

Going to see the new Stallone movie might sound fun to you, especially if you've got the I.Q. of wood pulp, but to me it sounded like no fun sent down to walk among us in human form. Come to think of, that was Steve, too. The personification of no fun.

So, what did I do? I went to the movies with him on Saturday night, to see Sly blow stuff up.

About twenty people were outside the theater, in line to see Stallone, I guess. At the door, one of those typical employees at the Cinema 10 was selling tickets-- he had what I could only call big hair. Piles of it. Poofing up all over the place. There were ten screens in the place, all about the size of a shoebox (with mono sound, no less) and they probably had fifteen employees for those ten screens. And they all had big hair.

While Steve was rambling on about one thing or another, about how "cool" it was when Stallone shot at communists or homosexuals or whoever he shoots at, my eyes were scanning the line in front of us. I was specifically looking at a girl, about seventeen, standing in the middle of the line. She was about 5'6", with teased blonde hair. Her lips were shiny with red lipstick, and her eyes were shaded with dark blue eyeshadow. She looked great.

From the neck down, it was even better. She was wearing a tight blouse, her fair-sized breasts straining against the buttons. She wore a tight leather miniskirt, which drew my attention to her legs, made even more appealing by the black stockings she wore. And, at the bottom, spiked heels.

She looked at me, snapping her gum (they always snap their gum, girls like that), and I stopped slouching, pushed my hair back from my forehead a little, just to be subtle, and smiled at her. She smiled back, and then licked her lips. Soft pink tongue over bright, shiny red lipstick. I wanted her.

And Steve was with me, damn him.

I listened carefully when she and the two girls she was with reached the ticket window, and discovered that they were going to see a comedy. Thank God-- I wouldn't be able to accept a girl who actually wanted to see Sly in action. So what if she popped her gum?

Anyway, Steve and I bought our tickets and went into the fifth theater. In there we found a huge collection of mental misfits, many more than I'd ever seen before. They wore Rambo T-Shirts. One couple sang the Over the Top theme while they arm-wrestled.

All of this time, of course, I was planning my escape from Steve. I figured that if I excused myself to go to the bathroom, he'd probably go with me. Steve was like that. If I went to get refreshments, though, I might be able to go alone and offer to bring some back for him. Then I was home free.

Steve had me get him a small Coke and a medium popcorn-- he gave me $20 to cover the Coke-and-corn. My plan worked like a charm.

Of course. It was my plan, after all.

The comedy that my girl had gone to see with her two friends started five minutes after ours. In other words, while Steve sat through the trailers-- which were no doubt advertising another movie featuring an adult and child switching bodies, or maybe a second-rate comedian teamed with a dog, or, better yet, a second-rate comedian switching bodies with a puppy-- I could set about wooing my desire.

Wooing my desire-- that's right, isn't it? That's how the Romeos, the Don Juans of history put it, isn't it? I doubt they talked about trying to get into a girl's pants. I really do. Talk like that was for, uh, uncouth cretins.

So I walked into the still filling theater (it wasn't Bargain Night-- all seats $3, so it wasn't that full) and looked for my woman and her two friends.

They were six rows back, and three seats in. My love was on the aisle side, and there were three empty seats next to her. I set a course for the middle of the three empties, warp factor one Mister Sulu, damn the (photon) torpedoes.

I sat down in the chair. Lock phasers on charm. Then I turned and looked at her, feigning surprise. She smiled.

"Hi!" she said in a high voice. Well, I didn't expect poetry.

"Hi there," I said, shrewdly, and wiggled my fingers in a sort of low-profile, cutesy wave.

"Aren't you Tommy Baker?" she asked me, saying my name in the way you might say the name of a movie star.

"How do you know that?" I asked in a semblance of modesty. How did she know it?

"Oh, you're kinda famous around school." She cracked her gum. "You're hypnotizing Sandy Chambers, right?"

"Yeah, that's me." I smiled. "What's your name?" Oh, I must be the king of originality.

"Trish. Trish Brooks." She paused for a second, but I was enthralled, watching her lips, her eyes, (her breasts), and said nothing. Fortunately, she continued. "You know, Sandy's pretty lucky. I would have been glad to let you hypnotize me-- just for a chance to see you in action."

Hadn't I heard this somewhere before?

"Wow. Thanks." Me, the master of dialogue.

Then a thought came to mind. I don't know why I did it, but I did. It just slipped out of my mouth, probably because of some chemical reactions a bit lower down in my body.

"Say," I said slyly, "I don't know about how I'm progressing with Sandy. I might need some more data from someone else."

She gave sort of a questioning half-smile. "Really?"

"Sure! If you're interested, and you have some spare time during a few evenings over the next week or so..."

"Great!" she said, and smiled again. Those lips. Wow. We watched the movie together, just us and her two friends.

I've never been so glad that Stallone movies tend to run longer than comedies. I managed to bring Steve his Coke and popcorn toward the end of the climax.

"Where have you been?" he asked faintly as he kept his eyes fixed on the screen.

"Long line," I murmured, and handed him his nourishment. He gave an understanding grunt and left it at that. What a guy. What a moron.

Sandy was out like a light. I had really done it-- but, then, one episode of Cosby would have probably done the same thing. It was a good idea not to get cocky.

"Imagine yourself on a cloud," I said. "You are resting peacefully, with a slight breeze caressing your gorgeous body." I guess positive reinforcement during hypnosis is always a good idea.

"A tingling sensation begins to work its way through your toes, moving slowly up through your feet, making them warm, heavy, and relaxed."

It was working. I could see her toes wriggling in her shoes. I was actually hypnotizing her-- of course, all I had done was put her feet to sleep, which wouldn't exactly get Steve a date. Unless he had a foot fetish.

"The cloud is soft," I continued in my New And Improved Hypnosis Monotone, "and your body is supported by that softness." The cloud she was lying on was actually my bed. And no, I didn't buy the Garfield sheets-- my mother did. Besides, Sandy said that they were cute.

"The tingling gently and slowly moves up your sexy legs, relaxing them. Making them warm and heavy." I theorized that I could probably have had my way with Sandy's kneecaps if I wanted to, but I was much too big a man to do such a thing.

"That feeling moves slowly into your, uh, chest, making your breathing relaxed as well." With that, she let out a deep sigh, her breasts straining against her shirt as she made her final deep inhalation. I knew then that I should have set up the video camera.

"And now it reaches your head. You drift away into the blue sky as you rest blissfully in the cloud." That cloud was exactly where I wanted her. I figured that it was about time to start the suggestions. Sure it was.

"On a nearby cloud," I began, "you see someone drifting toward you. As he gets closer and closer, you see that he's unbelievably attractive. You seem to recognize him from somewhere..."

Sandy was breathing harder and harder. I wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do-- besides, hypnotism wasn't meant to work so well. I was afraid that if I suggested that the man on the cloud was Abe Vigoda, Sandy would fall in love with him.

Nobody should have that kind of power.

"You told her it was who?"

Steve needed a little calming. I theorized that a blow to the head with a frozen TV dinner might do the trick, but I decided to try talking him down.

"Tom Cruise. Don't worry about it. I decided that it was far too soon to have her fall in love with you." I mean, I wasn't sure if I could hypnotize anyone before, but now I was afraid that I might be too good.

"But why Tom Cruise?" he whined. I suppose I could have picked some other media stud, like Val Kilmer, Kirk Cameron, William Shatner, or Don Knotts, but I decided that Cruise would be safe.

"I wanted to see how powerful the suggestion would be, stupid!" Oh, yeah, big shot-- make Steve feel dumb. Choose the hard jobs.

"So now she thinks that Tom Cruise wants her to be relaxed? Why not have her think that he wants her to love me?"

"You don't get it, do you, Steve? Look." I sat down next to him, placed my hand on his shoulder, and hoped that I could keep physical contact at a minimum. "My Biology project is supposed to be about hypnosis relieving stress in individuals. I have to make an effort. Besides, she's got two more sessions, on Wednesday and Friday. I've got plenty of time to make her love you. Or want you. Or whatever you like."

Then Steve did something quite amazing. He smiled, let out a big laugh, and patted me on the back. "Thanks, pal!" he said.

It was at this point that I wondered if a nice, smart girl like Sandy deserved a gullible dweeb like Steve, especially considering his horrible hypnosis plot. I mean, Sandy was one of the most caring and feeling people I had ever met. She wrote love poems. She told me that she cries whenever she sees a movie any more dramatic than the Three Stooges. And sometimes she cries at the Stooges, too.

She was a beautiful person. Did I really have the right to force her to love a guy like Steve?

Fortunately, it was a philosophical argument that I wouldn't have to worry too much about. I had to get ready-- in a few minutes, I would be having a session with a girl who had teased blonde hair, wore leather minis, and cracked her gum.

They were pink this time-- her lips, I mean. And she wore tight jeans and a short top that exposed her waist. But she was still gorgeous, and I still wanted her.

Now, I know that I said I couldn't make someone do anything they didn't want to. But you've got to remember, Trish told me that she'd do anything to see me in action. So I figured that she probably liked me already. I just had to bring it out.

And I know what I said about easing into hypnosis gradually, over several sessions. But things had gone so well before, with Sandy's relaxation and Tom Cruise on the cloud, that I figured I must have this hypnosis thing down by now. So I didn't wait-- the first time Trish Brooks came over for a session, we worked our way around to the cloud pretty quick.

The guy on the cloud, the one she was amazingly attracted to, was none other that yours truly. Who did you think I'd put on Trish Brooks' cloud-- Don Rickles?

After I had finished the session, counting from ten back to one, and filling in all of my typical suggestions of rest and relaxation, Trish didn't seem much different. I guess that she was already interested in me, and so it didn't make much difference.

Standing by the front door, I decided to make my move. "Trish," I began, "I was wondering if you'd like to do something Friday night." I was getting pretty good at this.

"Oh--" she smiled for a second, and then frowned. "I have something to do with my family on Friday night. It's my sister's birthday."

"Oh..." For a second, I thought that my hypnosis scheme was nothing but a sham, that I was nothing but a phony, a fake, a charlatan...

"I'm free Saturday night. How about then?"

...but just for a second.

"Saturday night would be great. How about dinner and a movie?"

"Sounds great," she said, and licked her lips.

I had the power. I really, really did.

Of course, I had known it all along.

It was Thursday when Steve got his list of demands to me. I had already completed my Wednesday session with Sandy, which had went well, even if it wasn't very exciting. I wasn't getting much data for my Biology project, but I figured that I'd wait for the final session on Sunday night before interviewing Sandy and assembling the report.

Steve's demands were scrawled in blunt pencil on a torn sheet of binder paper-- it wasn't exactly neat. It looked more like a list of demands that a terrorist might have. Except, of course, that it said things like "Undying Affection" and "Everlasting Love", not to mention "Faithful Devotion". It was as if the terrorists had kidnapped the president of Hallmark Cards.

On top of all of those demands (which he made as if he was ordering a pizza or something), Steve required that I force Sandy to ask him out on a date. Steve was so gutless that he couldn't even stand asking out someone who had been bent to his will by my expertise in hypnosis. What a weenie.

So my Friday session with Sandy started to bother me. When we were in her car, driving to my house, I began asking myself if I really wanted to do this to her. Steve was just a geek, but Sandy was a beautiful person. She didn't deserve him.

As we walked into my house and Sandy sat down on the bed, I tried to think of ways to explain the reasons for my not hypnotizing Sandy. He was such an idiot that I could probably work something up by Sunday, when the experiment ended. And he'd buy it, as usual.

I mean, really-- who would doubt my word?

Sandy shifted on my bed as I began to finish my suggestions for the day and bring her out of hypnosis. The suggestions had been working great, too. She said that she hadn't gotten into any fights with her parents in the past week, and that she knew that my hypnosis was responsible. I had no way of knowing if my suggestion that she make sounds like a clucking boneless chicken while she was in bed had worked.

"As you awaken," I said, "You'll feel relaxed and invigorated. You will have the confidence to do well in life and in school, the energy to put your best effort into all that you do, and a relaxed attitude which will keep your mind free from stress."

I counted from 20 back to one, and then she slowly opened her eyes. Her legs trembled a little as she threw her arms above her head and stretched.

"Oh, Tommy," she said, "I feel so great!" She sat up, lifting her head from my pillow, and dangled her feet over the edge of my bed. "You've done so much for me, Tommy," she said. "I really owe you a lot."

I smiled, deciding that it would be best to be the King o' Humility in this circumstance.

"It's no problem, really," I said. "Besides, you're helping my Biology project along, remember? Without you, there'd be no Biology project. You're my subject! You're the key!"

Hey-- I had managed to be humble and throw out a big compliment at the same time. Sometimes I impress even myself.

"How would you like to come with me to Brad Johnson's party tonight?"

Brad Johnson? The most popular guy at school?

Party? Me, invited to a party?

With Sandy? Me, going to a party with a babe like Sandy?

"Sure!" I said, trying not to sound too excited, but failing. "When would be a good time?"

"I'll pick you up at ten," she said.

"No problem!" I smiled again. It seemed to work well.

Sandy walked out the door, into the driveway, got in her Mustang, and drove away.

I had just fast forwarded past the end of my pirated copy of "The Full Figured Woman's Workout" that I watched every once in a while and was preparing to watch last night's Letterman when the phone rang. It was Steve again, and this time he seemed more anxious than ever.

"I just talked to Sandy," he said.

Uh-Oh.

"We only talked for about a minute. She said she had to do a lot of things before she goes out tonight."

"Uh-huh..." I said, trying not to give anything away.

"She didn't ask me out, Tom! Did you give her the suggestion yet?"

"No, not yet," I said, trying to get him back on the defensive. "I'm still setting it up. You don't want me to blow this whole thing, do you?"

"You've had three sessions with her, for God's sake!" he cried. "You should have been able to do something by now! She didn't even want to talk with me!"

"Everything will be fine," I lied. "You'll get your woman, Steve. Don't worry."

"I'd better," he said. Steve didn't seem to be buying my explanation. "So, I'll be over at 7:30, right?"

Huh?

"7:30, Steve? What's at 7:30?"

"What do you mean, what's at 7:30? I'm coming over, and we're going to watch Rambo III!"

"Oh... right. See you then."

Those Rambo movies only lasted two hours. Steve would be gone by 9:30. Plenty of time to get ready for the party.

Yeah, well, Steve got there late, and the movie was over two hours long, so it finished at 9:50. At least I had enough foresight to change into my party outfit before Steve came over. He didn't even notice that I was wearing nice clothes.

As soon as the movie ended, I jumped up and hit the rewind button on my VCR. I was hoping to get him out of the house as quickly as possible.

There was a knock on the front door.

Now, any normal person would probably be panicked at such a turn of events. I mean, I was going to a party with the girl that my friend was in love with, and he was still a little mad about the fact that I hadn't hypnotized her into loving him. You can see where Steve's misconceptions might lead. He might come to the conclusion that I had hypnotized her into liking me.

I didn't panic, though. Of course not. I would find some way out. I could explain my way out of anything.

"Wait here, and I'll get the door," I said. Steve always did as he was told-- he was like a faithful dog in that respect. Actually, he was like a dog in a lot of respects, one of which was his intelligence.

He stayed in the room, just as I thought.

I went to the door and opened it. It was Sandy, of course, and she looked better than ever. She was made up a little more, because she was going to a big party. And I was going, too.

It was then that I figured out my grand scheme: I'd just yell to Steve that I had to go with my mother somewhere, like to the store, and ask him to close the door behind him when he left. A perfect plan.

That was, of course, when Steve walked out from my room, holding his well-worn Rambo III tape, and looked at Sandy and I with bug-eyes.

"Sandy!" he said, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

I was about to wince. But I didn't have enough time.

"Tommy and I are going to a party tonight. Didn't he tell you?"

Ouch.

"You're what?" Steve cried.

Like I said, you can guess the inferences he made. I had, in his mind, used my hypnotism for evil instead of good. The ultimate comic book sin. (I always had a hunch that comic books comprised Steve's entire reading list.)

After he was through yelling at me, he ran out the door, screaming something like "Friends don't betray friends! I'll never be your friend again, you jerk!"

I don't remember his exact words. But you get the idea.

Sandy actually looked a little worried, though. I tried to reassure her.

"Don't worry," I said. "He's a real geek-- I should have ditched him years ago. You know what he did tonight? He wanted me to watch Rambo III with him." I laughed.

Sandy laughed a little, too. "Come on," she said. We started out to the car.

Brad Johnson's house was filled with all sorts of popular people, most of whom I did not know. Most of them knew me, though. I guess I was more famous than popular.

"Tommy Baker," one tall, well-muscled guy said, "you're the guy who's hypnotizing Sandy!" He reached out his hand, and shook mine. "Glad to meet you, buddy!" he said, laughed, and drank some more beer.

"To tell you the truth," he said, "if I could hypnotize Sandy, the first thing I'd do would be to make her take off her clothes!" He laughed again, and slapped me on the back.

I wanted to tell him that I wanted to use my power for good, and not evil, but that smelled like something Steve would say.

Sandy came walking over, then, and the guy turned to walk away. As he passed her, he put his fist out in a thumbs-up sign, as if he were a slimmed down, pumped up Roger Ebert (sort of an Ebert without the daily supply of rasinets and goobers), giving me approval.

"Are you having a good time, Tommy?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. And I was.

"Great!" she said, "I'm going to go get something to drink. Would you like me to get you something?"

She was being quite hospitable toward me. I felt more and more relieved that I hadn't made her fall in love with Steve-- especially now that Steve had shown how much of a friend he really was.

"Um, I'd like a Coke." I smiled.

"Just a Coke?"

"Yeah, just a Coke."

She nodded, turned, and walked across the room. I kept her in my field of vision as she walked through different groups of people. Over at the other end of the room, she picked up a can of Coke and a bottle of beer. Just as she was opening the beer, a girl walked up to her. They began talking.

Of course, I have no idea what they actually said. But I've reconstructed the conversation by considering what happened after it ended. So pretend that this is like In Search Of..., and I'm Leonard Nimoy (just imagine I've got the pointed ears), and you'll be fine.

GIRL: It was nice of you to bring Tommy to the party.

SANDY: Well, he's been really nice, and those sessions of ours have helped me a lot. He's done a great job.

GIRL: Sessions? I thought that you didn't work out and that he had to find a new subject.

SANDY: What? Where'd you hear that?

GIRL: From Trish Brooks. She says that she's his new subject.

GIRL 2: Consider yourself lucky that Tommy couldn't use you. I heard that his geeky friend Steve was going to have Tommy hypnotize his subject into falling in love with him.

GIRL 1: Gross! (This is an assessment that I agree with.)

"Tommy, do you have another subject? And were you going to hypnotize me into falling in love with Steve?" She yelled this to me from halfway across the room.

It was at this point that I realized that I might be in the middle of a little confrontation.

By the time Sandy reached me, she had about six people behind her, three of whom were tall, strong guys. One of them was that guy who I had talked to earlier-- the "hypnotize her naked" guy. You remember.

"Um-- well," I stammered, "I'm also having sessions with Trish Brooks."

"That slut!" one of the girls behind her muttered.

"And Steve did want me to hypnotize you into loving him..."

I was going to use my diplomatic skills to explain how I had evaluated the situation and decided to use my abilities for good, and not evil, but I didn't have the time.

That was when Sandy threw that can of Coke at me. So now you see why I'm glad she set down the beer. Aluminum is lighter than glass.

Then those big guys started advancing on me, as if I had insulted Sandy by even considering to hypnotize her into loving Steve. As if I had hurt her by adding Trish as a second subject.

I mean, Mister "hypnotize her naked" was even coming to get me. As if he was any better than me. What a hypocrite.

Nevertheless, he was a big hypocrite, and I've been 5'8" for quite a while now. So I did the intelligent thing, and ran for my life.

I got home at about 12:30. The moment I walked in the room, the VCR began taping David Letterman.

As I slid into bed, I considered the day's events.

It wasn't so bad a day.

I had ridden myself of that geek, Steve. He would no longer plague me with Sylvester Stallone. The can of Coke only hit me in the shoulder, so I wasn't visibly scarred. Sandy had found out about the true plan behind my hypnosis project, which meant that it would get back to my Biology teacher. I suppose it might hurt my Biology grade, especially if I had no project to turn in at all.

But what do I care? I mean, really. I'm still me, the same guy I've always been. I'm still well known around the school, and I was able to control a girl's desires through hypnosis.

And better yet, I had a date the next night.

So what if she cracks her gum?