What's with you? You look down in the dumps.
I broke The Writer's Husband's coffee maker last night.
I know. Glass everywhere and right at dinner time too.
I didn't mean to do it. I was playing with the cord and pulled it right off the counter. It made a terrific noise, didn't it?
I doubt you're filled with remorse. So why the long whiskers?
The Writer can't take me treat-or-treating tomorrow night. She has to go to Wal-Mart and get another coffee maker.
Winchester . . . you have never gone trick-or-treating in your life.
I want to go this year! Will you take me? Please?
I'm 54. A little old to go trick-or-treating.
You were 54 last year. Don't you ever get any older?
It's more convenient to stay one age.
Pleeeze take me, Ellie! I'll be good. I promise!
All right. But I'll probably turn 154 before the night is over.