"No more of that awful gelatin, darling. I'm so tired of it. But I did order a pair of nice shears today—you know, sweetheart, scissors?"
"Yes, dear. That's nice," I said, trying to smooth down the hair on the back of my neck, which was standing straight up.
"The Civic Machine didn't have any scissors, darling, so I told it go ahead and get me a pair regardless of the wait. That was all right, wasn't it, dear?"
"Fine, dear, fine."
"I can't imagine why the Civic Machine should be out of just plain old six-inch scissors, can you?"
"Just can't imagine, darling. Good-by."
"Good-by, sweetie."
My hand was shaking when I called the Tech at the Civic Machine and asked him to check up on the orders for scissors.
It took a minute or two, and when he came back, his face was puzzled.