As SJU sinks a three to tie the game at 81 with one second to go in regulation and the game goes into overtime, a huge roar goes up in the place. I look around - am I the only Duke fan in the whole place? I see no Blue Devil hats anywhere. Now my mood turns from ugly to really pissed off.

"Is it just me, or does it sometimes seem like we're living inside one big Dilbert© cartoon?"

"Huh? You OK, Mort?" grunts John as he fumbles with the beer pitcher, missing the top of the glass with the last few ounces. A tiny stream of golden liquid begins to drip off the edge of the table onto the floor. Our neighbors look over a little suspiciously. I look back menacingly and they turn away.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure. I'm fine. But sometimes I think that there's a big, mean, ugly dragon-monster out there, trying to bite me!"

"Watta ya talkin' 'bout there, Mortster? Duke'll pull it out, you'll see," he mutters, his speech getting slurred, as he tries, unsucessfully, to relight his cigar. He has one of those child-proof lighters with the little gizmo thing you have to push in.

"No, not that - I mean - is it just me or does it seem that the corporate crooks, scammers and con artists are trying to ruin our lives? They are everywhere!"

"Mortster, I think you've had way too much beer! Don't worry, you'll get your hot wings!"

"I've had too much beer? No, really. You know, like those cheap airline fares you see advertised in the paper? We're supposed to be having "airline wars." Only, well, I called American Airlines to get those one-way Orlando tickets for $60 and "Susan" just laughed and said they were all sold out but were glad to sell me a "reduced" fare ticket for $93."

"Tough luck. Did you buy it?" Some kid slipped on our beer puddle on the floor and cursed. I pretended not to notice. Duke was behind by two.

"No way. And how about last week - I got a call from "Toni" at a magazine place who told me I had been "selected" to receive free 36-month subscriptions to Sports Illustrated, U.S. News and World Report, Women's Day, and Penthouse. I spent twenty minutes on the phone giving all my info and then she tells me I had to pay $324 in postage."

"Well, uh, you do know stamps are 33 cents now. Right?"

"What? And then I keep getting harassing calls from Sprint, who claims I never paid that $172 bill from November, even though my bank faxed them proof of the payment. You know what the bastards did - they shut off our two cell phones without warning!!! Cindy was on I-66 with a flat tire and was couldn't use her phone!!"

"No kidding? That sucks! That's why I use Bell Atlantic."

"Yeah, like it makes a difference. And then the dog comes back from a week in that fancy, schmancy kennel in Laurel - you know, when we took our vacation to Florida- with a rip-roaring case of kennel cough. Took us three friggin' months, six pounds of antibiotics and five visits to the vet to get her over that one. She still lies around and coughs half the night. And she's a head case now, to boot!!"

"Poor dog. Man, sounds like you've really gotten the royal ream job lately. No wonder you think you see fire-breathin' dragons."

"What are you, my *#$4!# psychiatrist? I'm not seeing dragons. It's just a figure of speech."

"Figure of speech? Sorry. You think you've  got problems? That's nothing. Last week my new Cadillac Seville just died on the Beltway. Just friggin' stopped dead. Right there in the hammer lane. Cars whizzing by me at 70. I nearly crapped in my jeans. Turns out that fancy computer blew its chip. Shuts the whole car down."

"Bummer! Talk about cars. My daughter recently had $500 of "warranty" repairs on her Saturn, but the dealer conveniently "lost" our warranty information, billed us for the whole $500, and then claimed that most of the repairs weren't covered anyway. Finally refunded us $50. BFD. Did you ever look at what's really covered on those auto warranties anyway? Like everything that ever really happens is excluded."

"Car dealers are the biggest crooks of all." John got up for one of his patented visits to the growler. Duke was behind by one. The fans were screaming now. They could smell the upset. I was beginning to see red and bite my nails off. John returned with an ear-to-ear grin on his face.

"I hope everything came out well. You know what else those @#*&#^%#% at American did to me last month? I had 34,000 AAdvantage Miles and 19,000 with US Airways, so I wrote them and requested two free coupons from the pooled miles. That's 53,000. Enough for two."

"So what happened? Did you get 'em?"

"Nope. I never heard from the bastards - finally got a postcard that said my request couldn't be processed."

"Why? Couldn't they read your handwriting or something?"

"Ha. Ha. Very amusing. Turns out they "lost" the enclosed application form and since 30,000 of those miles "expired" on December 31, I got nothing! Zilch. Nada. Zip."

"What!! I'd sue the slimeballs!!"

"Yeah. Right. You try taking American to court. And did I tell you about Chevy Chase Bank?"

"What did they do to you?"

"They sent me two "gold" cards that I never ordered, then billed me $90 in annual fees."

"The bastards!!"

"Yeah. And they still haven't issued the credit for the $90. Keep sending me bills showing the unpaid balance."

"So that's why you feel like there's that fire-breathing monster out there that keeps biting you on the ass every time you think you got it together? In fact, I can almost see it now myself."

"No you can't! Stop making fun of me!! Now I know you've had too much beer. Or maybe you're thinking of that episode of Buffy?"

"Yeah. She is a fox, isn't she?"

"No, not Sarah Michelle Geller. I mean that ugly dragon-monster thing from Hell they are always fighting. I think that's what you think  you see."

"Hmmm. Maybe you're right. But I really do agree with you - it does seem like everyone is out to screw you these days. I'd think I'd rather be up against that dragon with Buffy.

"Sounds like you'd rather just be up against Buffy. Damn those arrogant corporate bastards, anyway. They can't seem to line their pockets with cash fast enough. They deceive you, they cheat, they're always plotting to screw you out of your coin. Of course, they have their corporate jets, 7-figure salaries, limos, million-dollar mansions in Potomac, and, when you finally fire their ass, they still have those golden parachutes. One day I'd like to parachute them right off the planet into Buffy's Hell hole and feed 'em to the monster."

"Yeah! I'd like to see the president of American Airlines actually fly in the cheap seats of one of his regular planes. And wait like the rest of us like a bunch of herded buffalo in the airport. And eat that "food." And pay five bucks to "rent" the headset for the movie."

Suddenly it didn't seem to matter any more. Duke had won, 92 -88. In a moment of revelation, like an epiphany, I realized how I actually manage to make it through the week without losing it altogether. Come on, bring it on, corporate America. Give me your best shot. I can take it. Who cares what the screw or the con is this week. As my hard earned dollars get sucked down that big hole in the ground that leads to your company coffers and those golden parachutes, I don't care. It doesn't matter how hard that corporate dragon-monster bites at me. I've got protection. With Buffy at my side and my Blue Devils on the loose, life is good.