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It was our honeymoon. My new bride Eugenia smiled at me, her radiant eyes overflowing with love and tenderness.
"Do you have to fucking stare at me all the time?" I shouted, and ground 1/2 of a grapefruit into her face like I'd seen in the movie.
Frightened and humiliated, she began to tremble. I noted with satisfaction the blotchy red patches that had appeared in her cheeks, and could not prevent myself from chortling aloud. All the time, energy and painstaking care I'd spent wooing her--with flowers, "earnest" avowals of love, artificially manufactured facial expressions conveying empathy and the like--were about to pay off. How long, how patiently I had waited to reveal my true nature!
An action-packed sequence followed which lasted twenty minutes or so, then ended abruptly. All at once I felt wicked emotional. This puzzled me. Fragments of long-since discredited mathematical equations drifted through my mind's eye like so much confetti.
The lonely cry of a smaller-than-average (I later found out) whippoorwill directed my attention back to the present. Well, things hadn't gone exactly as planned, but it could have been worse. Who'd have thought it would be so easy to appease the concierge, for example? Cheered by this thought, I spontaneously drew the ancient balalaika from its case and began to play a tune that brought back a packetful of golden memories from yesteryear. My real wife, who watched the scene via live video feed, later told me it was my liveliest rendition to date.
Date Written: July 08, 2002
Author: Jon Matza
Average Vote: 4.75