“You talk in your sleep, Honey,” says Marie. “Sometimes you shout that something’s on fire, and you want somebody to get out. You keep saying Godofski! Godofski!”
“Gadorski,” corrects Fred. “Oh, he was a friend of mine – – a B-17 pilot who got shot down over Berlin.”
“Can’t you get those things out of your system?” asks Marie.
“Oh, sure,” says Fred.
“Maybe that’s what’s holding you back,” says Marie. “You know, the war’s over. You won’t get any place until you stop thinking about it. Come on – snap out of it!”
“Okay, Honey, I’ll do that,” says Fred, sternly.
“I didn’t tell you, Fred,” says Marie, “but I got a little money saved. Dinner’s on me tonight!”
Fred looks at her, then continues to lay out the dinnerware. “Well, you may keep on saving it, Babe,” says Fred. “It may come in handy sometime. I appreciate the offer, but we’re eating at home.”
“Well, I’m hungry,” says Marie. “I’m going out by myself!” She turns toward the door. Fred grabs her by the arms and stops her.
“You’re not going out!” says Fred. “Get that? You’re gonna stay right here, and eat what I cook, and like it!”
“Let go of me!” says Marie.
“When we were married, Babe, the Justice of the Peace said something about ‘for richer for poorer, for better and for worse,’ remember? Well this is the worse!” shouts Fred.
“Well, when do we get going on the better?” asks Marie.
“Whenever I get wise to myself, I guess,” says Fred. “Whenever I wake up and realize I’m not an officer and a -“