"And as for you," she shrilled into Zach's face, "Don't quit your day job!" She turned, a five-foot two-inch whirlwind in pink faux fur boots and a puffy white jacket, and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her so hard that Zach's diploma and a framed Jaco Pastorius LP came crashing to the ground, shattering the diploma's glass. For a moment, Zach and Jake just stood there, blinking, looking at the destruction. They turned to one another in shock. Then the corner of Jake's mouth crept up into a smirk and Zach broke down into peals of helpless laughter. He dropped onto the shabby sofa and slouched back.
"Man, you sure know how to pick 'em."
Jake slid down on the other end of the couch and stretched his lanky legs in front of him. He grinned, shaking his head. "Now how could I have predicted *that*? You saw her Craigslist ad - young female vocalist, experienced in blues and jazz genres, looking for other musicians for jamming, eventual gigging.' All spelled right and capitalized and punctuated and everything. How was I supposed to know she was psycho?"
"Obviously grammar isn't everything."