Cathy by Cathy Guisewite for September 07, 1998
Cathy: We're driving up my driveway...I'm almost free...I can see my happy little front door...the nightmare is almost over...the worst evening of my life is about to end...just 20 feet to the front door and I'll be free of this egotistical, babbling buffoon forever! Man: Sorry, Cathy. You're just not my type. Didn't click. I don't think we should see each other anymore. Cathy: Would you like to come in for some coffee?