"I try," said George Prime.
"Oh, I'm not complaining," I hastened to add, forgetting that a Prime's feelings can't be hurt and that he was only acting like me because it was in character. "I was just curious."
"Of course, George."
"I'm really delighted that you're doing so well."
"Thank you, George."
But the next night when I was with Dawn, who happens to be a gorgeous redhead who could put Marge to shame on practically any field of battle except maybe brains, I kept thinking about Marge all evening long, and wondering if things weren't getting just a little out of hand.
The next evening I almost tripped over George Prime coming out of a liquor store. I ducked quickly into an alley and flagged him. "What are you doing out on the street?"
He gave me my martyred look. "Just buying some bourbon. You were out."
"But you're not supposed to be off the premises—"