Week.... ah, whatever... sometime in March

[mopple]

Hob, hands in pockets, wanders across the campus in the middle of the night. The skunk pooka whistles and sings his way aimlessly, not really seeming to have a destination. Every now and then, he cranes his head back to watch the half visible stars, and he smiles.

"Lydia, oh, Lydia,
Say, have you met Lydia,
Lydia the Tatooed lady..."

Ever now and then he seems to also skip along as if playing hopscotch along the sidewalks.