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“Yeah, now,” he said, shaking his head at Bingo’s stupidity. “Get your bike and I’ll meet you out front.”

Merrily We Burp Along
    â€œB URP-BURP BURP BURP … burp-burp burp burp.” Billy Wentworth stopped his series of burps to ask, “So, what song is that the beginning of?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Bingo admitted. In moments of frivolity he enjoyed body noises as much as anybody, but he was not feeling frivolous now.
    â€œYou gotta know. It’s a golden oldie. Wait, I’ll do it again.”
    â€œPlease don’t,” Bingo said. “I haven’t had any lunch and—”
    â€œBurp-burp burp burp … Some of my burps come up better than others, but you get the picture.”
    Bingo and Wentworth were pedaling slowly toward Weezie’s house. To pass the time, Wentworth was burp-singing popular hits.
    â€œâ€¦ burp-burp burp burp. I’ll give you one more hint. It’s by the Rolling Stones. I’ll do it again, and this is your last chance.”
    â€œI won’t know it no matter how many times you do it.”
    â€œYou better know it. Like, it’s a game, Worm Brain. You gotta get the song or I don’t tell you whether to go right or left at the next corner.”
    â€œWentworth, I can’t concentrate.”
    The reason that Bingo was unable to concentrate was that he was composing a problem, and it was a problem he was soon to face.
Problem #5. Seeing Long-Lost Girlfriend.
    Suppose you are in love with a girl and suppose you have not seen this girl in a long time because events beyond your control have kept you apart. The last time you saw this girl, you did not attempt to embrace her because the two of you were in Health Supplies, and your arms wouldn’t work right. This time your arms probably won’t work right either and although there won’t be any health supplies to deter you, there will be someone present who would like it if your arms didn’t work right. Should you—
    Bingo broke off. This was not like a problem, this was more like the rambling of an addled mind. And Bingo did not want to encourage such ramblings in his baby brother. Manfully, he broke off his thoughts.
    â€œWell, if you can’t concentrate,” Wentworth said, “I’ll give you a hint. Burp-burp burp burp sat-is- fac -tion. Get it?”
    â€œI got it.”
    â€œTurn left.”
    They made the corner.
    â€œWeezie lives on this street—I don’t know the exact number. Melissa said, ‘I’m staying with my cousin until my dad … er, works things out.’ And Weezie—who, incidentally, had not taken her eyes off me—that girl’s got taste—says, ‘I live on Duquesne.’ Like she would not be unhappy if I made my way to Duquesne—” He broke off.
    â€œThis has got to be it,” Bingo said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause there’s Weezie.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œOn the steps.”
    â€œThat’s not Weezie. Weezie doesn’t go around with doohickeys on her head.”
    â€œShe’s getting a home perm. That’s what they bought in the grocery store. When she gets through her hair will be curly, like Melissa’s.”
    â€œMan, I’m sorry I saw that.”
    â€œWell, you wait here. I’ll go the rest of the way by myself.”
    â€œNo, I can take it. She must want to see me bad to come outside with those doohickeys on her head.”
    Bingo and Wentworth walked their bikes up the sidewalk to where Weezie sat on the steps. She was flipping through a magazine and didn’t look up.
    â€œHi,” Bingo said.
    Now she noticed them. “Oh, hi.”
    Bingo filled in the silence with a loud swallow and then blurted out, “I saw you and Melissa in the grocery store.”
    The cousin came back with, “I saw you see us.”
    Bingo did not care for mixed-sex conversations that started like this,