Brad Rose

B r a d  R o s e

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While Touring America, Marcel Marceau, Dining at the Des Moines IHOP, Realizes His Cruel Father, Who Forced Him to Train as a Mime, Wasn't such a Bad Fellow After All

Sitting all alone in that big leather booth at the other end of the International House of Pancakes, she runs her tongue over her fire-engine red top lip.

Mon Dieu! How dreamy that lip must feel, how maple-syrupy sweet it must taste. Any fool—even if he is deaf, dumb, and blind—can see that she is tres jolie. She obviously is very sophisticated: She's ordered the 'Toast Francaise.'

This is definitely 'love at first sight,' as these frivolous Americans say. But from the other end of this dreadful restaurant, how will I ever show her how very, very much I am in love with her?

NOTE: LIKELY TO CARRY THIS OVER TO 53.