Triple treat by Barbara Boswell Page A

good. You have to sit here and wait while it oscillates, then lean forward to catch the breeze for a second or two when it finally comes your way." Tyler felt hot, sticky and irritable. Oppressive heat always affected him this way.
    Carrie tucked her feet under her and watched the TV screen, occasionally reaching into the bowl for a handful of popcorn. Tyler shifted restlessly. It was ridiculous for him to be here, sweating and bored by an inane sitcom, when he had a state-of-the-art entertainment center in his house. His cool, comfortable, air-conditioned house.
    He made a few derogatory comments about the heat, then a few more about the program on television, becoming particularly offended when a rival drugstore chain aired a schmaltzy commercial, complete with sentimental music, dogs, children and senior citizens.
    "That's an example of a shamelessly manipulative advertising ploy that has absolutely nothing to do with selling anything in a drugstore!" he railed at the set.
    "But it does grab your interest," Carrie remarked. "And I thought it was sweet when the grandma bought ice-cream cones for the little boy and the baby and the dog."
    "That drugstore chain doesn't even sell ice cream!" snapped Tyler. "Tremaine Drugs has lower prices, more efficient service—"

    "And really boring commercials," Carrie inserted playfully.
    "Boring? Boring! Our commercials are first rate—informative, unpretentious, aimed at the consumer's brain and his pocketbook, not his heartstrings. Lord knows we spend enough on advertising to—"
    "I was only kidding," Carrie cut in. "Fm sure your commercials are everything you said they are."
    That was not the response the company's executive vice-president and head of marketing wanted to hear. "My opinion of our commercials is of no consequence. It's the consumers—TV viewers like yourself—whom we're trying to reach, and I thought our ads were effective. We've done marketing surveys that show—"
    "Shh. The program's back on." Carrie turned her attention back to the screen, clearly uninterested in Tremaine In-corporated's marketing surveys.
    Tyler was insulted. The last time he'd been shushed had been... Why, he couldn't remember the last time. Maybe it had never happened before. People tended to hang on his every word; his views and opinions were sought and admired and even quoted! Furthermore, he'd never spent a whole evening sitting in front of the tube watching network television in his life! And to have to endure it in a room so hot it seemed to prove the greenhouse effect was simply intolerable.
    He stood up. "Fm leaving."
    Carrie's eyes never left the screen. "'Bye, Tyler. Thanks again for the ducks."
    "You don't care if I leave or not," Tyler accused.
    At last she looked away from the television and stared up at him with her big blue eyes. "You're welcome to stay but since you're miserable here, it's better that you go."

"Do you want me to stay or not?" he snapped.

    ■ 'Well, yes, I would like you to stay, but only if you want to," she said slowly, choosing her words very carefully, as if dealing with an unpredictable, explosive psychotic.
    Tyler was incensed. "Stop patronizing me!"
    "I wasn't. I said I'd like you to stay."
    "Then say it like you mean it. Make me want to stay!"
    Carrie's eyes widened. Make him want to stay. She reached for the bowl of popcorn and held it up to him. "Um, have some," she offered.
    Tyler's sense of humor got the better of him. "How can I resist an offer like that?" He laughed, though he was aware that his predicament was certainly no laughing matter. He was about to choose to remain here in this inferno, watching her watch TV!
    He sank back down on the sofa, heaving a sigh of self-exasperation.
    "Tyler, may I ask you something?" Carrie said tentatively.
    "Sure."
    She frowned uneasily. "Did you ever have a dog when you were a boy?"
    "No, and I never wanted one, either. The closest I ever came to having a pet was leaving food outside for that maniacal