“There was a framed print on the wall of dogs playing poker. I wanted to smash it to preserve the dignity of the world, but I refrained.”

“I smiled. “Nick, this is my dead boyfriend, Robbie. If you can’t see him, at least you’ll be able to see the salt carton hanging in mid-air. My dog is a zombie, and I’ve got a friend that’s a witch.” “Oh,” he said in a very small voice. I nodded. “That’s pretty much what I asked you over to tell you. So, what’s new with you?”

“It’s just that… I’m wanting to start dating myself.” I saw Gina’s eyes bug out. “I don’t mean dating myself. I’ve been doing that for ten years now. It’s gotten to the point where I buy my left hand chocolates on Valentine’s Day.”

“several complaints that night, ranging from people thinking cats were fighting to one soul who thought that a neighbor was playing a Yoko Ono album much too loud.”

“He hadn’t actually acted since his high school senior play (where he had famously skipped two whole pages of dialog and died fifteen minutes too soon),”

“By standing and with me sitting, he was showing he was the dominant male in the room. I, however, had a .38 in a holster under my jacket, so I won.”

“My hand found its way back to her knee. I hoped it was to comfort her. I’d hate to think that my right hand was straight. “Soon. I’ll call her this afternoon and get back to you.” She nodded. I removed my right hand, thankful that I was left-handed. I’d hate to have to try masturbating with a straight hand. It probably wouldn’t cooperate. And then where would I be?”