“Say, Paul. Care to see Pearl Jam tomorrow night? I’ve got two tickets, and Beth can’t make it.”

“Er… Bob. There’s something I have to tell you.”

“What’s that, Paul?”

“It’s about Beth, Bob. You see… Oh, there isn’t any nice way to tell you this, so I’ll just come out and say it. Beth and I are having an affair. In fact, she’s leaving you tomorrow night to move in with me.”

“Uh?”

“I’m sorry, Bob. I know this must come as a shock.”

“You? And… And… And Beth?”

“Remember last week when you had tickets for Madness, and Beth said she didn’t feel well? That she couldn’t go because her old Woodstock injury was acting up? While you went stag to the show, she went out with me to see Hanson.”

“Huh?”

“And last month? You know, that weekend when she bailed on seeing Damien Rice and Billy Bob Thornton? She and I shacked up that weekend in a motel room outside of Fresno and watched Dexy’s Midnight Runners videos while we… Well, you get the picture.”

“But… But…”

“Don’t try to fight it, Bob. We’ve made up our minds. Oh, and don’t even try getting custody of your daughter. You see, she’s not actually your daughter. Besides, I promised her tickets for that big Justin Timberlake / Christina Aguilera show if she didn’t put up a fuss during the divorce hearing.”

“You? Beth? My daughter?”

“I’m sorry, Bob, but these things happen. I know how you must feel. Especially with me being your boss and all. That reminds me. We’re downsizing today, and… and… Well, I’ve got to lay you off. After you clean out your desk, a security guard will escort you to the front entrance. Oh, and don’t even think of taking those Tori Amos tickets with you. Those were comps. They belong to the company.”

“I… I… don’t believe it.”

“Believe it, Bob. I’m stealing your family out from under you. But don’t worry, I’ll take them to see The Rolling Stones, Dave Matthews Band and Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers. Trust me, Bob. It’s better this way.”

“I… I…”

“You want to say something? Well, I don’t blame you, Bob. Whatever it is, just come out and say it.”

“I… I…”

“Yes?”

“I guess this means you can’t make it to the concert tomorrow night.”