THE DAZE OF THE WEAK

     Rodney was a quizzical boy, but only during the school week. In fact, he had his own names for the weekdays. He called them Whosday, Whatsday, Whensday, Wheresday and Whysday. And on those days he would go to school and please his pretty young teacher no end with his thirst for knowledge. He would start off each day with a different question and memorize the answer.

     "Who discovered America?" he would ask on a Monday. "What's the square root of nine?" he would pose on a Tuesday. On a Wednesday it might be "When was the Battle of Hastings?" and on Thursday he might inquire, "Where is the Sea of Tranquility?" Friday it could be "Why is the sky blue?"

     "Columbus," his teacher would answer on said Monday. And her answers continued throughout the week. "Three... 1066... The moon... Uh, let me get back to you on that."

     But the weekends were a different story. Rodney felt that even intellectual curiosity deserved the weekend off, so he spent those days watching cartoons and playing video games.

     Over the years this dramatic shifting between mental stimulation and mental repose began to have a jarring effect, and when he reached puberty something in him seemed to snap.

     He was still asking questions at school, but one particular week the teacher noticed that the questions had become different somehow.

     "Who cares?" he asked on Monday. "What's in a Tom Collins?" he wondered on Tuesday.  On Wednesday he asked, "Where do you live?" On Thursday his question was "When do you get done work?" and on Friday he queried, "Why don't you wear that white cashmere sweater more often?"

     His teacher was alarmed and she put the kibosh on the whole Whosday, Whatsday, Whensday, Wheresday and Whysday routine. 

     However, so as not to completely put a damper on Rodney's yen for knowledge, the next day she wore her white cashmere sweater.