Rat waited in the Snark. She crouched, her chin digging into her knees. There were still five minutes until the movie started. Someone stumbled to a stop next to her.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" It was a fat girl with long brown hair and a tight purple silk shirt. Rat had seen her in the Snark a few times before.
Rat unkinked herself. "Sure, go ahead. That's a great shirt."
The girl sat down. "Thanks. It's my favourite."
"You like James Dean?" Rat thought the fat girl had an odd smell, like the New Car Scent you could get in little bottles and spray into your old VW to try to cover the time someone was sick in the back seat.
"Do I ever!" The girl turned and her shirt pulled at the buttons so that it gaped a bit. "He's the greatest actor ever."
"I'm Bentley Saunders Harrison Matthews. You can call me Rat."
The fat girl smiled. "I'm Sylvia-Marie Noseworthy."
"It's good to meet someone who can properly appreciate James Dean. Most of the people I know are cultural morons," Rat said.
"I know what you mean," Sylvia-Marie said. "My mother, for instance, objects to the fact that I have every inch of my bedroom walls covered with James Dean posters. She feels that two or three posters would be adequate."
"My parents don't hassle me about my room. But they refuse to admit that James Dean is the best-looking man of all time."
"He's the only man I'd let near me."
"The only man I'd ever touch."
"If I could kiss James Dean just once, through the miracle of time-travel or maybe cloning, I would die happy." Sylvia-Marie sighed wistfully.
"I would definitely French James Dean." Just thinking about it made Rat shiver.
"Would you let him feel you up?"
"Of course I would. Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah, I would," Sylvia-Marie said. "In the back of my brother's car, maybe, parking out on Turtle Ridge."
"I'd let him do more than that," said Rat. "I would go all the way with James Dean. I would do whatever he wanted. I would write a book called 'The Joy of Sex With James Dean' and then do everything in the book with him."
"Me too," Sylvia-Marie said. "But he's the only guy who would have any chance with me."
Rat was feeling pretty good. "You want to come over after the movie and see my posters?"
"Sure." Sylvia-Marie smiled. The lights went down and the projector came on.
In the dark, Rat reached out. Sylvia-Marie took her hand. Rat's fingers were bony and Sylvia-Marie's were pudgy. James Dean came on the screen.
There was someone else in the place, eating a hot dog under the yellow lights. It was a kid, a girl, a little taller than me, with a pointy rat nose and pimples. She had short blonde hair, tinged with green and sticking out in all directions. She was wearing a baggy red skirt that came below her knees and black, pointy shoes. She had skinny legs. She was also wearing a jacket about five sizes too big for her.
...she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her too-large jacket and hunched her shoulders. She had a habit of bending her ankles so the soles of her shoes faced each other and standing on the sides of her fee. She was sort of cute, in a horrible way.
-- Walter Galt's description of Rat, "The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death" by Daniel M Pinkwater
FINIS
I'm astonished that anyone wrote fic for Daniel Pinkwater books. This is surprisingly cute, even though it doesn't quite capture the tone of the original at all.