With the Funky-thon officially concluded, our narrative turns not to Summer sports, nor to band camp; neither to the Les-Cayla-Susan triangle. As “Crazy” Harry sits at Montoni’s counter abusing the free coffee, in the back of the pizza joint two co-workers pass like ships in the afternoon. Wally has traded in his ballcap for an olive drab schmatte, and carries a teetering stack of plates (a “lazy man’s load”, my Mom would say). Rachel, apparently desperately lonely and/or hot for Wally, responds to his offhand greeting as if it were a marriage proposal: “Yes? YES? SAY IT, Walter! Say the word, my soldier boy!” She is mortified when Wally orders her to stand down.

