Step 2 – You’ve heard of never being able to get a word in edge-wise? This is similar, except untold paragraphs and unexpressed thoughts are now floating out in the universe, never to be heard from again- all because of the Texas Pause. How does this happen? Typically native Texans possess a speech pattern in which they will express a thought, pause for 3 or 4 seconds (sometimes longer) mentally preparing their concluding thought (we like to plan our conclusions for maximum effect.) Unfortunately, the other person in the conversation will jump in and start talking before the first person is finished. I know you’d never be guilty of thinking ahead about what you’re going to say, instead of listening, but that’s not the only problematic thing about this.

There are thousands of frustrated Texans who had profound things with which to conclude, who never had the chance, because someone else barged in, unaware of the Texas Pause. Can you imagine what brilliant ideas we, as a society, have probably lost as a result of this travesty of dialect? How many spouses have resorted to saying, “You never listen to me”? How many employers miss the “…and their new branch wants to order 100,000 more widgets than last month”? How many teachers pivot and point to another student while the first student to answer still had words stuck between the mind and tongue, choking on the fact that the incongruency of an incomplete thought has made them look really stupid? How many Texans have skipped dessert in a restaurant because the waiter or waitress shifted their gaze to the next patron for their order? I ask you, is this fair?

Step 3 – Because of the world’s ignorance of the Texas Pause, we are losing valuable thoughts, educational opportunities, industrial productivity, and cherry cobblers by the millions. Please put a stop to this madness. Tell everyone you know about the Texas Pause…………………………………. and let’s make this world a sweeter and more complete place in which to live. Pause and say “No!” to Sentencia Interruptus. Countless thoughts could be saved if you will only listen.

In October of 2005, then Supreme Court nominee Harriet Miers, on national television, admitted to having the Texas Pause.

In an interview with Fox News, Miers said, “I pause, before I speak.” Sentencia Interruptus reared it’s head, once again, as she appeared to correct the interviewer. Telling someone you pause before you speak is a learned assertiveness among those with the Texas Pause. Many others may, now, come forward to admit they have this, which will foster understanding throughout the world, where there has been none, yet. That might be a good thing, considering the international ramifications of any misunderstanding, especially when there’s a Texan in the White House.

© 2005 Dianne James

Step 2 – The Chef, Andre Dumier, who operates a One Star Michelin restaurant just outside the city of Bordeaux, advanced the theory after contemplating what he considers the first requirement in the various stages of evolution – the availability of food. We were fortunate in being able to arrange an exclusive NewsLaugh interview. The complete text follows.

NewsLaugh: We understand you have proposed a radical revision of Darwin’s Theory of Evolution. Would you please explain your theory?

Dumier: But, of course, monsieur. The great flaw in Darwin’s Theory is that he puts Natural Selection before the existence of food to select.

NewsLaugh: Say, that’s interesting. Can you elaborate?

Dumier: It is my pleasure to do so. To me his Theory of Evolution does not make a primary place for the absolute necessity of food. Let me explain. Do you think the fish evolved in the ocean before there was plankton for them to dine on? Of course, not. They would have starved! And, if they could not survive, how could you have Survival of the Fittest?

NewsLaugh: Do you have an alternate theory to propose?

Dumier: Oui, monsieur. Survival of the Fullest. To my mind, it is the more correct idea.

NewsLaugh: Yes, we can see your point. How do you account for the fact that animals eventually emerged from the sea and populated the land?

Dumier: Think for yourself! Do you suppose they would have crawled out onto the land if there was no food waiting for them? No, no! They went up onto the land because they knew there was food there, just waiting for them to bite into and enjoy!

NewsLaugh: May we ask how they found out it was there?

Dumier: Well, I wasn’t present at the time, but I will tell you my thought. Some food got blown into the water, no doubt a delectable plant or so. Perhaps a legume. Maybe during a rainstorm a truffle got washed in. These primitive fish took a taste. They liked it and wanted more. But they couldn’t go get it.

NewsLaugh: Why is that?

Dumier: Why else? They had no legs, a deficiency that brings us to how such things really evolved.

NewsLaugh: How is that?

Dumier: Think, monsieur! Since they needed legs to get to the food, they grew them. Then they walked out and chowed down.

NewsLaugh: How do you think they eventually became exclusively land-based animals?

Dumier: For the same reason that you go to the grocery store every week. There is a lot of food and you can pick it up without having to be concerned that somebody else will snatch it out of your hand. They noticed they were the only diners on land, whereas in the primal ocean, there were millions of fish, competing for every morsel and a big one might even dine on you. But on the land? No, such worries. There they beheld, not only the plentiful food, but, at least for the short term, the absence of competition for it.

NewsLaugh: So your theory is that evolution was originally driven by the availability of food?

Dumier: But, of course! Look even at the world today. Wherever there is a speck of food, for example, even lichen in the tiniest crack in a rock, some little bug or bird evolves to eat it. But first must come the food!

NewsLaugh: How do you account for the evolution of homo sapiens?

Dumier: My good man, look for yourself! The proof is right before your eyes. You have seen the famous cave paintings at Lascaux?

NewsLaugh: Yes, we’re familiar with them.

Dumier: Well, then, think about the famous Hall of the Bulls. Why do you think those primitive inhabitants were drawing bulls? Because they like bulls? No, because they were thinking about steak for dinner! But, actually, food is only the more primitive aspect of my theory.

NewsLaugh: Please, elaborate.

Dumier: When the Neanderthals or some earlier hominids discovered fire, what do you think is the first thing they thought of, eh? Voila! Now we can cook our food! No more raw meat for us. So they began to roast and broil! Do you know how different that is? Homo sapiens is the only creature who cooks his food! Fish can’t cook in the water, because if they try to boil it they get poached. And can you imagine, for example, foxes gathered around a fire, roasting a rack of lamb? No, cooking is purely an aspect of human behavior.

NewsLaugh: Yes, that’s true. But certainly there’s more to the evolution of man – and woman – than food?

Dumier: Of course, of course. And that brings us to the big question? The final step toward homo sapies. These primitives asked, ‘What next?’ At this point, they were ready, in Hegelian terms, to make the next big leap in self-realization.

NewsLaugh: What was that?

Dumier: They noticed grapes. They liked to eat them and savor the juice, but there is, after all, so little of the delectable nectar in a single grape. So they decided to squeeze a batch of them to have more. Then a female – or perhaps a less-warlike male who was tending the cave while the strong guys were out hunting for dinner – accidentally, or perhaps as an inspiration, dropped in some yeast. And what do you think? Voila again! Only this time vin! They discovered wine.

NewsLaugh: Hmm, I suppose it might well have happened that way.

Dumier: Yes, yes, why do you think we still age wine in a cave? But now you see the entire picture, do you not? There they are, these ancestors of ours, sitting in a cave around a fire, roasting steaks and drinking wine. How much of a step do you think it is beyond these nascent gourmets to homo sapiens as we know and feed him today?

NewsLaugh: Yes, of course. But now that you have propounded your theory, what do you propose to do about the controversy you have created?

Dumier: The best thing I can do. Just keep cooking and serving wine at my wonderful Michelin-rated restaurant. I must leave the scientific soufflé I have whipped up at the Sorbonne and elsewhere to the scientists.

NewsLaugh: What if your theory is refuted?

Dumier: Refuted for whom, monsieur? Never for me! Whatever the experts decide, I will continue to believe that you cannot have a proper Theory of Evolution unless you make a primary place for the necessity of food and, later, for the delights of wine.

NewsLaugh: Thank you, Chef Dumier. It has been a pleasure talking with you.

Dumier: You’re most welcome. But, my good man, talk about pleasure, may I invite you to stay for dinner? This evening I am making some of my exquisite roti du boef, which will go quite well with an elegant Bordeaux.

Although this was Todd’s first visit to this particular club, he had been trapped into that expensive intimacy once before at another topless spot in New York and knew, legally, she could offer him little more than he was enjoying in the crowded main room, except higher prices.

“Sure,” he replied, unable to put wisdom before attraction, as straightforward men have been unable to do from time immemorial.

Lila took his hand and led him toward the blue neon sign that heralded The Champagne Room. She pushed aside the black curtain and led him past it.

There, in the dim light, were about a dozen small tables, with topless dancers at work on their eager attendees. She looked toward an unoccupied table that was promisingly back in the right corner, offering what might be considered a little more privacy, and winked at him, as she said, “How ‘bout that one?”

He smiled and followed along, like a happy male puppy with the woman who supplies his every need.

When they arrived at the table, he took his seat, and Lila, to afford herself a rest from her physically demanding occupation, as well as to present the illusion of enhanced intimacy, took a seat beside him. Moments later, a waitress showed up, in her own scant black outfit, obviously with aspirations to join the big earners in topless entertainment, should the occasion arise.

“What would you like to drink?” she asked, cleverly taking their thirst for granted and looking at both of them, just so Todd would know that Lila also obviously had the right to a beverage.

He decided to make a show of his capacity for foolish extravagance, and asked, “Would you like champagne?”

“Love it,” Lila replied.

“Do you want to see the list?” the indulgent waitress asked.

“Yes,” Todd said, wary of the usual overpricing and hopeful of finding a halfway decent deal.

“Be right back,” the waitress told him, and off she went.

“I could use some champagne,” he said with bravado. “I’m tired of drinking beer.”

“I love champagne,” she replied, seeming distracted, and slid a little toward him. “We can be so much closer back here.”

Todd gulped. “I like it.”

“Me, too,” she told him.

Just then the waitress returned with the champagne list. Todd looked it over and noted that, as expected, each bottle was marked up about five times over retail. He avoided the cheapest bottle, a California brand with a tenuous French heritage, lest he take some glitter off the festivities, and ordered the second least expensive bottle, which was authentically French and had some credibility toward extravagance. Obviously, California “champagne” has not made as big a dent as California wine in French claims to being superior custodians of the grape. Price: just over a hundred dollars.

“We’ll have some Moet Chandon Brut Imperial,” he said.

“Very good,” the waitress replied, and off she went to get the valuable bubbly.

Todd reached down to hold Lila’s hand, feeling he had, by his unspoken agreement to overpay for the champagne, earned the intimacy.

She looked down at the sudden conjunction of flesh, and then, smiling, said, “You know we have a different way of charging back here?”

“You do?” Todd asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry but I have to charge you for holding my hand.”

“You do?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s part of our Intimacy Price List. Would you like to see it?”

“Naw,” he replied bravely. “You keep track.” Then, looking down at their irresistibly joined hands, he said, “But, tell me, how much am I spending?”

“Ten dollars,” she told him.

“Is there a time limit?” he asked warily.

“No,” she smiled. “Once you pay, you can hold it all night. Holding hands is one of our better values.”

“Great,” he said, and, feeling he had copped a bargain, took out ten dollars.

She tucked it in her garter.

The waitress returned with the champagne and held the label toward him.

He smiled, and soon he and Lila were toasting like a voluntarily enchanted couple.

“To a great night,” he said.

“With you,” she replied, and flicked her tongue at him, as if to intimate the possibility of more than the law allows.

He looked at her lovely, long blonde hair and couldn’t resist stroking it lightly.

“You’re very pretty,” he said, catching his breath.

“Thank you,” she breathed back. “You don’t mind if I bill you for that, do you?”

“For what?” the poor soul wanted to know.

“Caressing my hair.”

“Oh,” he said, and withdrew his hand. “How much is that?”

“Only ten dollars.”

“Is everything ten dollars?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, smiling as if to indicate that more intimate things would rightly cost far more.

He took out another ten and handed it to her.

As she tucked it, he was unable to resist giving her a little peck on the cheek, breathing, “Lila, tonight money is no object.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, “twenty dollars.”

“Twenty? For what?”

Wagging her finger at him charmingly, she replied, “Kissing my cheek.”

“Oh,” he said, “I should have known.” Then, feeling just a tad upset, he reached out and pinched her arm. “How much is that?”

“Thirty,” she said.

“For pinching you?”

“It would usually be only fifteen dollars, because it comes under Innocent Contact. But, since I could get a bruise due to its intensity, it comes with a fifteen-dollar surcharge.”

“I see,” he said, and took out his wallet. “Kind of inflationary, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t everything?” she asked cannily, and then added, “On my last job, I had to give them away.”

“You did?” he replied, wishing he had known her then. “Why?”

“I was a stewardess.”

“Oh,” he said, with understanding but certain that by now women’s advocacy groups would have overcome such a flagrant incursion into an unsuspecting lady’s space. He paid her for stroking her hair and pinching her arm and decided that for convenience, he would leave his wallet on the table. There didn’t seem to be anybody nearby who would run away with it while he had his eyes on her. “What else do you offer?” he asked with wily charm.

“Oh, lots of things,” she said, visibly excited.

“Like what?”

“Well, intelligent conversation.”

“You offer that?”

“Yes, a lot of men seem to want it. So we have to take a course in it. Pick any topic – philosophy, politics, literature, finances. I got a Pink Pussycat in finances.”

“You did?”

“Yes. It’s the highest grade.”

“Good for you,” Todd told her. Being a bit of a literary buff himself and eager to dwell on romance, he said, “Let’s talk about Romeo and Juliet.”

“Sure,” Lila said, and, looking into the distance, as if reciting from something she had memorized, she went on, “Romeo and Juliet is a play by William Shakespeare. It is based on the timeless theme, ‘The course of true love never runs smooth.’” Her recitation complete, she turned to him, and said, “My personal choice for Romeo would be Brad Pitt.”

“Excellent,” Todd said. “Would you like to continue our literary discussion?”

“No, that’s enough for tonight.”

“Good,” she told him, and held out her hand. “Ten dollars, please.”

“For what?” he asked. “I didn’t touch you.”

“The intelligent conversation,” she let him know. “I had to study hard to learn that.”

“Oh, well, that’s understandable,” he told her, and slipped a ten out of his wallet, which, he noticed, was quite a bit thinner than it was when he arrived, fresh from a nearby ATM. “I seem to be running a little low on cash,” he confessed. “Would you like to buy some funny money?”

“Sure,” he told her. Lila waved her hand at the waitress, who happened to be nearby. She was at the table in a flash. “He needs to buy some funny money,” Lila told her.

“How much?” the waitress asked.

Uncertain of how expenses would mount and wishing to present the impression of throwing caution to the wind, he said, “Three-hundred dollars.”

“Would you like me to put it on your credit card?” the waitress asked.

“Please,” he said, pretty certain he had enough credit left on it to cover that amount.

When he had arrived, the club, being punctilious about matters such as money and identity, demanded custody of a credit card and his driver’s license, with assurances that both would be returned when he departed.

He turned to Lila, and, with a slight indication of passion, which he felt he had by now earned the privilege of displaying free of charge, and said, “What else do you offer?”

“Thanks for asking,” she replied. “This week we have a sale on games.”

“Games? Like what?”

“Oh, you know, scrabble, monopoly.”

“What about video games?”

“We don’t allow those. They’re much too distracting.”

“Then how about kissing games?”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Sure, why not?” he asked.

“Where? My hand, cheek or my lips?”

“I’ll take the lips.”

“For how long?”

“What do you mean, for how long?”

“Rates vary, according to location, duration, and tongue placement.”

“Tongue placement?”

“Oh, you know. Regular kissing or French kissing.”

“This place is amazing,” he said. “Is there anything you don’t charge for?”

“Not very many,” she joked.

“How’d it get that way?” he wanted to know.

“It was started by a dancer who saved up and got her CPA.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She worked her way through college by dancing. Someday I hope to go to college myself.”

“Going for your CPA, too?” he couldn’t resist asking.

“No,” she said, “I expect to be retired by then and just enjoy life. Maybe I’ll study art and paint.”

“That’s a nice dream. I hope you achieve it. But, please, don’t try to earn your entire retirement package tonight.”

“I won’t, you silly man. Now, back to business. Where did you want to kiss me?”

“The lips,” he said.

“For how long?”

“As long as I feel like it.”

“I’m sorry, Todd, I need a number. What if we say thirty seconds?”

“How much is that?”

“Tongue in or tongue out?”

“Out.”

“Oh, you are so sexy.”

“So how much did I spend?”

She added the figures in her mind assiduously. “Thirty dollars,” she told him.

“For one kiss? That’s a dollar a second.”

“Well, it is me.”

“You’re right,” he said. J

ust then the waitress returned and held out her hand. “Here’s your funny money, Mr. Watson,” she told him.

“Thanks,” he replied, and, as a token of his appreciation, he gave her back a twenty.

“Thank you,” she said, and off she went, to leave them to their extravagant privacy.

Clutching the funny money, as a moment of self-reflection intruded to incriminate his intellectual self-respect, he nevertheless resolved to proceed and leaned forward to give Lila the most passionate kiss he could manage. She returned the lip-pressing interlude, with only an occasional glance at her watch.

When thirty seconds had passed, she tapped his back. But he did not stop kissing her. She attempted to tell him his time was up but could not free her lips to do anymore than make an indefinite noise. She whacked his back again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, breathless.

“Your thirty seconds are up.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, but I have to abide by the rules. Or I could get penalized, even fired.”

“Oh,” he said. “If you got fired, does that mean I could date you for free?”

“You’re too funny,” she said.

“You know the saying? The best things in life are free.”

“But not here,” she told him.

“Maybe we should go back to lap dancing. It’s cheaper.”

“OK,” she said.

“Oh, come on,” he informed her, “that’s not even foreplay. It’s before-play.”

“I never thought of it that way,” she replied.

“And now that I’ve had you in my arms, how can I settle for just seeing you naked? I want to kiss you and hold you and – you know.”

“We can do everything except, you know.”

He held up his funny money. “I have $250 left. How much can I get for that?”

“Oh, Todd, you say the nicest things,” she effervesced.

“I mean it,” he confirmed.

“You can kiss me – and I won’t even watch the clock.”

“Take it,” he said, handing her the funny money, “take it all.”

She did, and he became lost in her wildly extravagant arms.

Step 2 – The momentous event occurred one afternoon when this portly patrician was dining at a chic restaurant just off the Roman Forum. He was savoring a sip of red wine from Tuscany when a group of alarmed citizens came running by, screeching, “The barbarians are coming! The barbarians are coming!”

Amplonius had witnessed their arrival before, and by now he had made peace with the ancient wisdom, “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may be out of food and wine.” It was by such Stoicism that the wise were able to witness the destruction of the Roman Empire while preserving a somewhat peaceful life. So, with a knowing smile, Julius simply raised his glass toward the fleeing crowd.

“What are you going to do, Julie, just sit there and eat?” a citizen who knew him quite well asked.

“Why not?” he replied. “I’m thirsty. Not to mention hungry.” With that, he indulged in another taste of the Tuscan red.

“You’re crazy!” a speeding friend called. “Run, Julie! Run!”

Just then a waitress who doubled as a temptress arrived with Julie’s lunch, which might be described as a plate of proto-pasta. It consisted of a flat, round piece of dough that hung just a bit over the margins of the plate. It had a baked tomato sitting in the middle of it, with a single chunk of parmesan cheese next to it, and around both was a wreath of fragrant basil leaves.

“Enjoy your plano,” she said, putting down the dish, for that is the name the proto-pasta was known by.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” Julius told her, and gave her a pinch.

“Oh, you silly man,” she replied, and, looking about, seemed nervous. “Can you do me a favor, love, and close out your bill now?”

“No problem, you sex kitten,” he said, and reached for his purse. He took out enough Roman coinage to include a generous tip. “Keep the change,” he told her, and pursed his lips expectantly.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she said, and gave him a luscious but ever-so-brief kiss. Then she hurried off after the other fleeing citizens.

Julius calmly picked up a knife and fork and began to eat his proto-pasta.

Just as he cut off and savored his first bite, in rushed a huge, fur-covered barbarian, with a leather shield and the fateful sword with which he would help Julius discover pasta in many of the varieties we enjoy to this day, from lasagna to angel hair.

“Uh!” he grunted, and raised his sword.

Julius continued to dine. “Uh! Uh!” the barbarian raged, for the sound “uh” comprised much of the everyday range of his proto-language. To attract the attention of the unperturbed diner, he swung his sword in a circle and just happened to whack off the head of a statue of the great Augustus. It crashed to the marble floor.

Julius couldn’t help but notice the decapitation and, placing a leaf of basil on his tongue, said, “That wasn’t very nice. I kind of liked that statue.”

The barbarian could not, of course, understand a word. In an effort to establish a bit of good will, at least long enough to allow him to finish his meal, Julius held up his bottle of wine. “Like some vino?”

“Huh-Uh!” the barbarian managed to say.

“Suit yourself,” Julie told him. “Got a name?”

The barbarian stared at him without comprehension.

“Name?” Julius repeated, pointing to himself and then at the barbarian to illustrate the point of his question.

“Klunk,” the barbarian said.

“I might have guessed,” Julius commented.

“Klunk, The Great,” the barbarian continued, with some intellectual effort.

“Good for you,” Julius told him, and put out his hand. “I’m Julius, The Roman, also known as Julie, The Ample. Have a seat.”

“Huh-uh! I am conqueror – conqueror of Rome!” Klunk managed to say.

“Good for you!” Julie told him, and couldn’t resist asking the most challenging question. “Are you sure you can afford the upkeep? It’s an expensive city to maintain.”

“What is upkeep?” Klunk wanted to know.

“You’ll find out,” Julius advised him. “Now, come on. Have a seat. You’ve had a hard day.” Then he pointed to his dish and indicated a reluctant willingness to share some of his food. “And enjoy some plano.”

Klunk looked down at the plate, and asked, “What is plano?”

“You don’t know?” Julie inquired. “Where have you been?”

“Other side of the Alps,” Klunk managed to get out.

“Oh, no wonder,” Julie replied, and decided to educate the deprived soul. “See. This is a plate. Ever hear of a plate?”

“Plate?”

“Instead of eating off the table, or the ground, you eat off of a plate.”

“Uh,” Klunk said, with apparent understanding.

“Now, on the plate we put a flat piece of boiled dough, called plano,” Julius continued, lifting up the edge with his fork to demonstrate. “Then we put all kinds of goodies on top of it. In this case, a tomato, a piece of cheese, and basil leaves.”

“Uh-huh.” Klunk acknowledged.

“All you do is take a knife and fork,” Julius explained, picking the utensils up slowly, so Klunk wouldn’t mistake his intentions and send his head rolling the way of the great Augustus’s marble head. “Then you cut off a piece.” He went through the process and took a bite. “Ah, delicious! Sure you won’t have any?”

“Uh-huh,” Klunk said, holding his ground, and repeated with some effort, “Plano.”

“Excellent!” Julius exclaimed. “You’ll be a true Roman in no time!”

“Klunk – a Roman?” the barbarian responded, visibly insulted, and raised his sword high above Julius. Then, unexpectedly, he brought the sword down on the plate and cut the plano right in half. “Now, what do you call it?” he was somehow able to ask.

Julius looked down at the two half-moons, and said, “I think I’ll call that one big agnolotti.” Then he took another sip of wine and smiled at Klunk.

Incensed at his inability to frighten Julius, he raised his sword again and whacked the plate three or four times. “What do you call it now?”

Julius examined it, and said, “This I’ll call lasagne.” With that, he took a bite and savored it.

Now furious, Klunk attacked the plate repeatedly, and demanded, “What do you call it now?”

Julius, despite his indifference to fate, was a bit shaken by all the clatter, and said, “I will name it linguine.”

Needless to say, Klunk swung his sword at the plate with an unprecedented volley of strokes. “What is it now?”

Julius examined the mishmash on his plate. By now, the plano was cut into thin strips, the tomato was diced, and the cheese was grated. After some deliberation, Julius announced, “You made what I will call spaghetti.” Still remaining remarkably calm, at least on the exterior, Julius took his fork and wound some spaghetti around it. Then he took a bite. “Delicious! And fun, too,” he told Klunk.

Enraged at his seemingly imperturbable true Roman, the barbarian now slashed at the contents of the plate until his arms were a veritable blur. Then, short of breath, he sighed, “Tell me what you name that.”

Julius looked closely at the mayhem in his plate. Now, the pasta was as thin as he could imagine it, and the tomato sauce, cheese, and basil were all mixed together. “It is so thin I think I will name it angel hair.”

Klunk became unexpectedly curious and bent toward Julius. “Angel hair? What for? You no angel. You fat Roman.”

Considering how finely the plano was now sliced, Julius could not imagine how much longer it could invite the attentions of Klunk and imagined that his own neck might well be the next object of the barbarian’s fury. Ever the clever Roman, he noticed that, as a result of Klunk’s exertion, his tummy was showing a bit.

Julie was, of course, also aware of the legendary weakness of the barbarian shield, as opposed to the metal shield that accounted for much of the impenetrability of the storied Roman phalanx.

So he pretended to move his knife toward the last remaining decent-size piece of tomato, saying, “No, my friend, I am not an angel.” With that, he quickly stabbed the somewhat exhausted Klunk, and added, “But you’re about to become one.”

Klunk looked down at his sudden, fatal wound with shock and fell to the ground with a thud. His head knocked the table and, if Julius’s hands weren’t so quick, the movement would have upset his glass of wine.

Leaning back and enjoying a sip, he said, “I think I’m gonna call all these things I discovered after my beautiful girlfriend, Pastina.” Then he rolled a bit on his fork and indulged in another mouthful, musing, “I just love Pastina.”

All the names Julius invented that day, with the undoubted help of the ill-fated barbarian Klunk, have come down through the centuries without alteration, except for the categorical appellation, which usage would eventually abbreviate to the more familiar word “pasta.”

Step 2: I need a way to move my stuff. Daddy, can I borrow your truck? You don’t have one? Why not? Do you want one? I’ll help you pick it out! Well, it was just a suggestion. No need to get all bent out of shape! I guess I’d better call the truck rental places.

Step 3: What do you mean…$200…PLUS mileage? AND Gas? Good grief!

Step 4: While I’m on the phone I’ll call the utility and phone companies. Yes, I know I haven’t used your services before. No, I don’t have a credit card; this is my first place. You want what? A $100 deposit? For EACH? Holy cow…do you people have a license to steal?

Step 5: Daddy, I need $500 for moving expenses! I used all my money for the first and last months rent AND the damage deposit. Well, how was I to know this was going to be so expensive? Sell something? Daaaaad…I NEED my TV! Boy, this place is pretty empty. Maybe I should buy a couch and a chair. Nah…I have my bed. That’ll be good enough. I don’t need a table; I’ll just use this box.

Step 6: Renters Insurance? I don’t think so! What do I have to insure? Just got my first phone call! I’d love to come to your party!

Step 7: Daddy, I need a car. Because it’s too far to walk to work, that’s why. Umm, Daddy…there’s car insurance too! Thanks, Dad…you’re the best! And gas? I didn’t think so…

Step 8: Time for dinner. Let’s look in these boxes. Oh, No! No dishes or pans. No FOOD! Uhhh, Mom?

There’s nothing like making the property sale of your life, only to find out that your dream client is a member of the blood-sucking undead. This movie is notable because it was an unauthorized adaptation of the book “Dracula” by Bram Stoker. Recently, improved copies of the original movie have been made accessible to the public. This film introduced the concept of vampires being severely harmed and/or destroyed by sunlight.

Step 2. The Amityville Horror (1979)

Perhaps the most extreme case of buyer’s remorse in a film to date, “The Amityville Horror” is based on Jay Anson’s novel of the same name. An all-American family purchases a big house with a big lot in a nice neighborhood for a low, low price… you know that there has to be something wrong with the picture. And there is. A lot wrong. Fortunately for the viewer, the supernatural events claimed to be true in the book and the movie have not been reported by the family presently living in the house.

Step 3. Poltergeist (1982)

The American Dream: the kids, the car, the house… wait… The house has a few problems. Faulty wiring – the living room television turns on by itself. Not level – the coffee urn keeps moving. Weed problems – a tree outside trying to grab the kids and hurl them into a parallel dimension. And having the house implode on you is always another indication that things aren’t entirely sound. You may want to pass on trying to sell this one.

Step 4. The Lost Boys (1987)

A movie that illustrates what’s important about the phrase, “location, location, location”. When you’re looking for a place to raise your two teenagers, perhaps “the murder capital of the world” shouldn’t be your first consideration. That and all the damn vampires.

Step 5. The Haunting (1963)

This is the 1963 version and not the unwieldy 1999 remake. Might keep this one in mind if you decide to check out a house with a dark past. A team of paranormal investigators find that an old mansion contains more sinister forces than mold and termites and loss of equity.

Step 6. The Tenant (1976)

Roman Polanski plays a man who becomes afraid that his landlord and neighbors are trying to mold him into the previous tenant so that he will commit suicide too. This film isn’t a sparkling example of landlord-tenant relations, but it does bring in a good creep factor to rental property investments.

Step 7. The Uninvited (1944)

It’s another case of a well-appointed house being purchased at a suspiciously low price. Of course, the new owner finds that there are some supernatural squatters who make life… difficult. As in, make it difficult to stay alive. As with many other older films, watch this one instead of its remakes.

Step 8. Psycho (1960)

Traumatizing shower lovers for nearly 50 years, Psycho features the brooding Bates’ house that overlooks the Bates Motel. It would be a better investment if its owner wasn’t channeling his murderous mother, but you can’t expect everything. The real house is still available for viewing via tourbus at the Los Angeles Universal Studios.

Step 9. Arachnaphobia (1990)

A doctor moves his family away from the big, bad city to end up fighting big, bad spiders. It’s what you get when you find a cheap house in a safe neighborhood: something always comes along to threaten your life. Classic tale for those who are unconvinced of the need for a pest inspection before buying – big South American killer spiders could get YOU.

Step 10. Hot Fuzz (2007)

Not a horror movie per se, but still an exceptionally violent film illustrating that sleepy, well-to-do, neighborly towns with picturesque heritage houses ALWAYS have something wrong with them, like secret cults murdering wayward villagers. A terrific action flick that takes on the buddy cop genre and adds a swan or two.