I was sitting in a small coffee bar in Ohio, wondering what the hell I was doing in a coffee bar in Ohio. That's when about the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life walked in the door. She paused in the doorway, surveying the room. I didn't even notice how much I was staring at her. Suddenly, she looked at me, smiled, and walked over.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, motioning to the stool next to me.

"Um. . . there's someone sitting on it. But the one on the other side is free." I said nervously. She sat, then extended her hand and shook mine.

"I'm Astrid."

"Leroy."

"No, Astrid. What's your name?"

"L. . . Leroy."

"Is that all you can say?"

"Just about."

For the next moment or so, she just sat and stared at me with a blank sort of expression on her face. Immediately I noticed that she didn't blink nearly as often as one really should.

"Um. . ." I tried to break the silence, "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"No, I don't like it."

"Funny, neither do I."

"Then why are you in a coffee bar?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I could ask anyone here that question. Watch." Before I could open my mouth, she turned to the person sitting on the other side of her. "Excuse me, why are you here?"

The man looked at her like she'd just attempted to set his dog on fire and blamed it on a nearby wastebasket. "What?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I. . . I'm enjoying a cup of coffee."

She cocked her head to one side. "Are you really enjoying it?"

"Well, yes."

"Or is it just that you're percieving that you enjoy it, that because you expect to enjoy it you feel it, although in reality you really despise it?"

"I enjoy my coffee."

"That's what Hitler said."

"What!?"

"Your head is really oddly shaped, you know that?"

Slowly, looking intensly at Astrid as if she was about to go for his throat, the man picked his cup of coffee up off the bar and backed into the crowd. Astrid stared expectantly at him until he hid under a table, then turned back to me. I was laughing so hard I was almost crying.

"Do you do that to people often?" I asked her.

"Only when they're asking for it."

"And he was asking for it?"

"Oh yes. Now watch this." She spun back around on her stool, and faced the table the man had relocated to. The second her eyes reached him, he bolted out the door, knocking down his chair as he jumped to his feet. She grinned and turned back to me.

"I'll have to try that sometime."

"You don't try it. It tries you."

"Right. . ."

"I like you," she said as if the conversation had been leading there, "You remond me of my grandfather. Except that you don't run around the backyard barking at squirrels. As far as I know."

"Was your grandfather a dog?"

"No. That would just be ridiculous. Do you have a mint?"

"Yeah."

"That's a good thing to carry. Nice job."

There was a long pause. ". . .D- do you want one?"

"No thanks."

Another pause. Then it was her turn to break it for once.

"What time is it?"

"Five thirty."

"Damn. I'm twenty three hours and thirty minutes late for my hair appointment. I'd better be going." She pushed herself off the stool and headed toward the exit.

"Wait! Can I see you again sometime? What's your number?"

"Six." And she walked out.

Damn. Fifth barking mad girl this month.