We boarded the plane and I sat next to a heavy woman with bad breath. Her clothes didn’t work. She was grumpy. I’m no catch either, I sighed.

He got behind the velvet rope. It was a total miracle. He met a supermodel and made his move. I wrote a book, she said. And he slinked away.

I stabbed him. His blood stained the rug. Why? he whimpered. It was a good question for which I had no answer. I don’t like rugs, I replied.