"I think you're crazy," she said, suddenly. The man on the TV was saying something about how your teeth will be whiter. Are teeth supposed to be white? I wonder to myself.

"Why do you say that?" I ask.

"Well look at the evidence," she replies, gesturing limply at me.

"All I see are polka dots. And Dr. Pepper on TV." I say.

She coughs. She looks at me with that deep stare of someone in a foreign country who just wants mayonaise. The natives don't even know what emulsification is, much less how to make oil turn into a delcious spread.

I'm distracted by Cold Case Files. I don't know what to say. I'd always thought I was crazy, but I never heard anyone say it directly. And what is crazy, really? Malconformity? If thats the case, then isn't crazyness the engine of creativity? Isn't sanity the new religion? The DNA evidence says otherwise.

She laughs suddenly. I am starled and yell. She looks at me curiously.

"What the hell?" I ask, as if from a dream.

"You see what I mean?" She laughs again histericly.