The Back of Our Heads

By STEPHEN BARR
Illustrated by DILLON
She traveled from life to death and back again like a commuter on the 5:15 ... except each trip brought her nearer the beginning of the line!
In reading this report, it must be borne in mind that when the word they is used, it does not refer necessarily to separate entities as individuals.
It is possible that a closer analogy would be the cells of an organism—which, in a sense, we ourselves become when we are in a pack or forming a mob.
On the other hand, that particular cell or entity which this report deals with exhibited at all times marked individuality—even eccentricity—and will hereinafter be referred to as she. This is because she invariably assumed a female form when visiting us, and because she furthermore gave every indication of that type of mind and point of view which is generally met with in the more noticeable, effective or contentious members of that sex.
As she put it herself during the hearing, she was always in hot water.
The four teen-agers—one girl, three boys—weren't allowed in the bar, so they went down the street to a joint where there were a soda fountain, booths and a jukebox. They sat in a booth and a waitress came to take the orders: three hot dogs and three cokes.
What about you, dear?
Just a glass of water. The waitress started to leave. No, wait—gimme a white on rye, too.
The waitress left, then came back again. What was that you wanted, dear? Some kind of rye-bread sandwich?
Changed my mind. Make it a buttered pecan, but tell 'em to go easy on the butter. And I don't want no French dressing. Make it on whole wheat.