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neighbor's grass. She had definitely gushed.
    "Okay, one gushed. But it's not always like that."
    "Too soon to tell. But it might go better if you intersperse the ranting and raving."
    "I thought of that," Sophie admitted. "But I'm afraid no one will get to rave. I really don't want four hours of complaining. That's what most general talk shows do."
    Twilight had settled firmly over the garden by then, and Sophie reluctantly stood. She slid Biff's coat off her shoulders and handed it back. "Thanks for the loan."
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    "You're welcome." He took the jacket, but didn't stand.
    "So, will you have dinner with me?"
    Sophie considered. One dinner was no big deal. She'd done more than that with playboys who had more notorious reputations. But she liked Biff for some reason, and he represented everything she didn't want in a potential partner.
    There was no sense starting something casual at this point in her life.
    "I'm sorry, Biff. It was a nice, friendly conversation, but you're still not my type."
    He stood and jerked on his coat. "Okay, fine. I won't ask again."
    If he'd been anyone else, she would have said she'd hurt his feelings.

    * * * *
    "Good afternoon, and welcome to Rant and Rave. I'm your host, Sophie Macgregor, and today's theme is pets. What do you hate about your pet? What do you love? Call now and voice your opinion to someone who really wants to hear it."
    She rattled off the phone number, now memorized, and went on.
    "We're going to try something new today. Instead of two hours of Rant followed by two hours of Rave, we'll switch back and forth. One hour Rant, one Rave, then one Rant, then one Rave. Let us know what you think of the new format via e-mail, snail mail, or telephone. Melina, who's our first caller?"
    "Joe is on line one."
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    "Hello, Joe, what's your rant?"
    "Hi, Sophie, how ya doin'?"
    She tried to keep her sigh inaudible. Every caller asked how she was doing. "Fine, Joe. Thanks for asking. What do you want to rant about today?"
    "Cats."
    "Cats. Can you be more specific?"
    "What more is there to say? I mean, cats are rude, man.
    They ignore ya, unless they want you to pet them, then they bug ya until you've got fur flying all over the place. Yeah, that's another thing. Fur all over the place."
    "I don't have a cat, but isn't there anything good about having one? Isn't it nice to have a warm kitty curled up next to you while you watch TV?"
    "Huh. Sometimes. Mine bites, though. And the stinkin'
    litter box. My wife doesn't clean it every day, ya know? On account of that toxoplasmo whatever thing cat stuff has. You know. She has to wear gloves and stuff."
    "Wait. You're wife is pregnant?"
    "Yeah."
    "And you're letting her clean the litter box?"
    "Heck, it's her cat."
    Sophie wavered between lecturing and not badgering listeners. But she couldn't let it go.
    "It may be her cat, Joe, but it would be better if you cleaned the litter box. You don't want the baby to have birth defects, do you?"
    "'Course not." His voice turned plaintive. "Can't I just get rid of the cat?"
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    Sophie laughed. "That's between you and your wife.
    Thanks for calling. Next caller."
    "Sophie, this is Marie. I can not believe that guy. He has got some nerve, making his woman clean that litter box."
    Marie was the first of many callers who had something to say about Joe and his potential parenting skills. The ranting evolved very satisfactorily until the end of the first hour.
    Sophie broke for a commercial and ran out to grab some water.
    "Great show, Soph!" One of the salespeople waved at her.
    "Thanks! You selling time?" One of the signs of a successful show was sponsors and advertisers wanting space on it. They wouldn't know ratings on her show for a while, so they were feeling their way.
    "Slowly but steadily."
    "Great."
    She ran back into the studio in time to explain again that the second hour was for