She: You don’t have to drink all the whiskey.
Me: I sure as hell do. We’ve established that it ain’t gonna drink itself. So who’s going to drink it? You? Ha!
She: You know I can’t drink while I pregnant.
Me: My point exactly. I’m drinking for two. And also, for the record, not it.
She: You’re such an ass.
Me: I just need to be on record.
She: I would never sleep with you. I know you too well.
Me: That’s probably what you told the last guy, and now look at you. My god…the state of you.
She: You’re trying to get me to drink. Are you trying to get me to drink? You are. You’re trying to upset me so I have to take a drink.
Me: What the hell are you doing here anyway? At a bar? If you can’t drink?
She: You insisted we meet here. This is the only place you would meet me.
Me: You’ve been getting a lot of looks. “Why is that woman so great with child sidled up to the bar that serves the liquor?”
She: How’s the book coming?
Me: [growls] Don’t ask. [finishes any remaining whiskey within arm’s reach]
She: You don’t have to drink all the whiskey.
Me: We’ve been over this.
N.P.: “Living in America” – James Brown
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