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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