Chuck

I bet it is.

We're in the cave now to cure Art's sniffles.

I stepped outside for a minute after supper and there wasn't a breath of air even here in the country.

You be sure and do that, Sin.

We'll wait for you.

We're going to call Tim and Mary Barnes.

We thought we'd get them because you and Jack can always beat them at bridge.

And Art loves Mr. Barnes because he once took him in a golf match.

Hear from you later, baby.

Fran hung up.

Fran's a real pistol.

We really shouldn't have talked so long, she reproached.

But I guess we can afford it now, can't we, genius?

You skirted very closely to Homer Simpson there for a second.

What?

Well, I mean, we lead this bucolic life of solitary splendor where you can't see your next-door neighbor's house without a telescope.

We're supposed to be lazy and going to weed while our city friends and their first cousins, the suburbanites, are still supposed to be in there swinging with their eyes on the main chance.

What's the point?

Arthur asked.

Nothing exactly, replied Fran.