Z

"Zookeeper!", you tell her. She looks at you from head-to-toe and shakes her head. She thinks you have no ambition. For the President of United States, being the object of advances of a zookeeper does not quite cut it. She moves away and mingles with the crowd. You look forlorn. I wish I could come and help you. But you have vehemently objected to my intrusions in the past saying that you don't need any help and that I embarrass you.
You kick at the soda bottles near your feet and put your hands in the pocket. Just then the singer brushes past you. Her long golden hair gets caught in your arm-sleeve. Both of you jerk to the opposite sides. I then see her untangling it. You are so eager to help her. But she refuses your help and does it by herself. I think she knows you usually make a mess of the smallest things.
She takes her her hair off. Gives you that coy little smile and you are smitten. You walk behind her. And you start whispering to each other.
"Alien from space" gets the President. You glance across to them and back at your singer. You smile says you are satisfied.
Coming up..the results of the Fancy dress competition for the 4 graders! And I know you don't quite care!