“This night belongs only to us!” says Al, as he twirls Millie around the dance floor. Butch plays a fast polka of “Roll Out the Barrel.”
Back in the booth, Fred is chatting up Peggy. “That’s the type of thing people oughta be thinking about these days!” says Fred, tapping the table.
“Alright,” says Peggy, with feigned seriousness, “I promise I’ll get right to work on it. And there’s one thing I’ve been wanting to ask you – – “
Fred snuggles his head up against Peggy’s shoulder. “Well, you ask it, Peggy,” says Fred. “You mustn’t feel shy with me.”
“– why don’t you call your wife?” she says in Fred’s ear. Fred looks at her.
“I don’t know her number,” he replies. “I couldn’t find it in the phone book.”
“PHONE BOOK?” shouts Al, ushering Millie back into the booth. “We don’t need to do any telephoning! We’re all set!” Al points at Fred, “What you need is a drink!” Al whistles for the waiter.
Homer returns to the booth, but doesn’t sit down.
“Well, goodnight everybody. I’m going home,” says Homer.
“Why?” asks Al.
“Well, I’ve gotta – Butch says I’ve gotta,” replies Homer. “He’s gonna drive me.”
“Aw, now,” says Al, “No, no –“
Butch turns up at the table. “It’s quite alright,” says Butch. “And don’t any of you leave – – I’ll be right back.”
“Goodnight everybody,” says Homer. They all return the “Goodnight.”
Butch ushers Homer away from the table.
“Poor kid,” says Al. “Imagine: he’s gotta go home.”
“Doesn’t that put any ideas in your head?” asks Millie.