“We’ve got to get into this place, Kevin E. Kevin A.’s depending on us(!).”
“Yeah,” responds the other Kevin at the registration table. “If only — we could read like him.”
“We’ll have to fake it,” answered the somewhat smarter Kevin C. to Kevin E. after glancing back over his shoulder at Baker Bloch (a.k.a. Arnold). “Uh, you take the straight letters and I’ll take the squiggly ones.”
“Um.” Kevin E. didn’t recognize the first 3 letters on the application form.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Uh. Yeah.” He spots his first one. “‘L’,” he mouths, jabbing the appropriate letter several times with his finger. “That’s definitely an ‘L’.”
“Very good.” He pats his hatted lover on the back.
Sunklands 