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I sat in the dark and imagined flirting with a pretty, latin girl. In a short, tight, shiny dress, her skin perfect and brown, an equating street, and a hot summer night. I smell a gasoline in the air, and me slouch behind the wheel, ready to pop the front end for a smile.

From Driver by Frederick Barthelme in a recent issue of The New Yorker. The New Yorker. To Marneh, at 6.30, it's one of Carol's favorite episodes of the Bob Newhart Show. That's my big red. Her new husband is drowning her with affection.

Where are you working? I'll only be a 60th of a second. The question is, how long can she stand it? He got a new movie camera, Bob. What sound? You know what's on a Thursday night at the movies now?

Me, cooking Wednesday morning breakfast. One of Carol's favorite episodes. The Bob Muhart Show. Tomorrow night at 6.30 on Channel 9.