“Hi, honey. Did you stop off at Ticketmaster and buy those Gary Jules tickets like you promised?”

“Uh, Ralph, sit down. There’s something I have to tell you. I’m leaving you for Hans Blix.”

“Uh?”

“That’s right. The weapons inspector from the United Nations. I met him at that Jimmy Buffett concert. You know, the one you couldn’t attend because you mixed up your Viagra with your Zantac?”

“What?”

“He was working security at the turnstiles. Oh, those hands! As soon as he patted me down, I knew we were made for each other.”

“Huh…”

“Since then we’ve been seeing each other on the sly. He took me to see Six Feet Under and The Psychedelic Furs, and tonight we’re going to see Lou Rawls. Then it’s off to his place for a peek at his weapons of mass seduction.”

“Uh…”

“Don’t try to talk me out of this, Ralph. Hans and I were made for each other. We both like the same acts, like Motorhead and Toby Keith. Plus, not only is he from the UN, but he’s also Swedish. And you know what they say about the, uh, physical attributes of Swedish UN workers? Well, guess what, Ralph. It’s all true!”

“Er…”

“Sure, Ralph. We had some laughs. We saw ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic and Lewis Black, but Hans really knows how to treat a woman. In fact, not only did he take me to see Shania Twain, Sting and Britney Spears, but he also paid for the parking as well. Sigh… He is sooo cosmopolitan.”

“Uh…”

“Well, that’s all I have to say, Ralph. Don’t bother calling because I won’t answer. Don’t bother emailing me because I’ve got you on my spam blocker. Don’t bother coming over to my new home because Hans and I have bought a couple of rabid Dobermans and we only feed them once a week. In fact, this is it. If you have anything to say, you better say it now.”

“Uh…”

“Five seconds, Ralphie boy. As the minister said on that dark, tragic day we wed, ‘speak now or forever hold your peace.'”

“Er…”

“Yes?”

“I guess this means you didn’t buy the Gary Jules tickets?”