“Don’t you run away from me, Carol!” her husband shouted at her as they walked down the street.
They had been drinking. She stopped in her tracks and turned around.
“Do you love me, Bill? Do you really love me? You say you do. You always say it. But the way you’ve been acting, I don’t feel like you do,” Carol said.
“I do, baby. Believe me.”
“Then take off your jorts.”
“You’re nuts,” he said.
“Take them off. Take off your jorts and show me that you love me,” Carol said.
“Baby, I can’t. You know how I feel about m’jorts.”
“It’s either your jorts or me.”
Bill stood there not knowing what to do. He knew he could always buy more jorts, but he couldn’t buy another Carol. But these were his favorite.
“Carol,” he said, “let’s go home.”
