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own stupid jokes.
    “I think Phil deserves to be dean of the graduate school more than anyone,” Berry said with a sudden affected humility. “He sure worked for it.”
    Jay Berry, what a bastard, that sorry sackashit that pulled pranks on me, pranks he would never admit to, even after he finished his doctorate. Yeah, of course, there’s his yes-man, Albert, still blowing smoke up his own tired old ass and everyone else’s.

    Berry leaned over to whisper into Scott’s ear. “I’m surprised they didn’t ask Mr. Self-Esteem over there if he didn’t want the position.”
    Dorothy was distracted by the crowd, smiling and saying hello to people. But Crawford was looking carefully at his two old rivals, wondering what nasty remarks they were making about him.
    “Crawford?” Scott said softly to Berry. “He doesn’t have time to be dean. He’s got a new book and appearances to make. Now he’s going after the children’s market. A busy man he is.”
    “Yes, I understand he’s putting out an exercise video,” Berry added with a snicker.
    Crawford was imagining what they were saying. He also knew he couldn’t stop their mockery from bothering him, which bothered him even more.
    They laughed quietly to themselves, looking up at Crawford, feigning to have just seen him, or he thought so anyway.
    “Jim,” Berry said. “How the hell are you? Long time, no see.”
    Crawford decided to go ahead and put on airs. It was more insulting. “Great. Jay. Good to see you. Albert, how are you?”
    “Fine, Jim.”
    Dorothy joined her husband, standing obediently at his side.
    “Dorothy, you look as lovely as ever.”
    “Thank you, Dr. Scott. Congratulations on your new research grant.”
    He was surprised, or acted like he was. “Thank you so much, Dorothy. But how would you know about that?”
    Crawford thought his response was almost paranoid.
    “Oh, a little birdie told me,” she said.
    “Well, thank you, dear.”
    Berry chimed in, “But we were just talking about your latest success, Jim.”
    “Congratulations on your new book,” Dr. Scott added.
    Crawford was clearly uncomfortable. “Thanks, gentlemen. I appreciate it.”
    Then there was an awkward silence. This was the real insult — saying congratulations and nothing more.
    Scott lifted his martini and looked directly at Crawford. “Can I get you folks something?” Berry grinned. “Oh, I forgot,” Scott said quickly. “You no longer imbibe.”
    “No,” Crawford said with a forced smile.
    Then Scott turned to Dorothy. “Can I get you something?”
    “No, thank you. Will you excuse us a moment?” Dorothy said, leading Crawford into the main hall.
    “Those jackasses. They don’t think I know they talk behind my back? What idiots.”
    Crawford turned again to give them a hateful look and Dorothy directed him away. “Ignore them, dear. If they talk behind your back they’re just jealous of your success, that’s all.”
    “Jealous?” Crawford tried to laugh. “They’re downright hateful. They think I’m getting too much attention, too much money. They want fame and fortune more than I do.”
    “That’s jealousy. And why do you care what they think?” Dorothy said, in a motherly voice. “My God, do I have to keep giving you your own advice?”
    “No you don’t,” he said, before taking a breath and calming himself. His discomfort, he theorized, came from conceding that his former doctoral classmates were right, that he was a fraud and a bad joke.
    The Crawfords walked in through the main entrance, down the aisle, then up the stairs that lead to the long table that sat at the front of the hall. “Just think of all the things you tell other people,” Dorothy said, pointing to their assigned seats. “Follow your own advice. It works.”
    “Does it?”
    Crawford looked down at his name written on a folded card in front of their seats just to the left of the podium. “Dr. James and Dorothy Crawford.” Crawford particularly took note of