That Explains Everything

In high school, my friend Sarah read a short story of mine and decided to show it to her English teacher, Mr. Fish. I spoke to him later that day, for the first time, as I had never had a class with him. He complimented me on my story. I will never forget the look on his face as he stood in the doorway of his classroom, even though I don't remember his exact words. He loved it, he thought it was fantastically awesome, etc. etc.

I was floating through the halls feeling pretty full of myself after that. I told my friend Dawn about my conversation with Mr. Fish.

"He had this look on his face when he talked about my writing," I said. "It was a look of total awe, a really dreamy look."

Dawn giggled a little. "He always has that look on his face," she said, a bit apologetically. "He's a total pothead."

Oh...