Some joker from Cal Tech was explaining diagrams of a multi-stage rocket.
After a bit, I got up and said, "I have something out in the lab I want to check on."
"Hey, wait a minute," Guy objected. "They're about to show the shots of the launching."
My wife gave me a look; you know the kind. I sat down. Then I got up and poured myself another martini and freshened Em's up, too. I sat down again.
The scene had changed to a desert launching site. There was old Guy himself explaining that when he pressed the button before him, the hatch on the third stage of the great rocket in the background would close and, five minutes later, the ship would fire itself.
Guy, on the screen, pushed the button, and I heard Guy, beside me, give a sort of little sigh. We watched the hatch slowly close.
"You look real good," I said. "A regular Space Ranger. What are you shooting at?"
"Darling, will you please—be—quiet?"
"Yeah, Dad. Can it, will you? You're always gagging around."