The Missing Black Pair

“God, Jason, sometimes you can be a total fool. What is that silly thing?”

“What?”

“Do not do that! And get in here before a neighbor sees you and calls the cops. Sometimes I wonder why...”

“...because you love me?”

“I wouldn’t bet on that.”

“But, I do. I know you do as much as I do you. I adore you, Sandy. Not any specific thing ... you, I adore all of you, the whole package.”

“Thank you. Now, why that silly mask?”

“I am, The Lone Danger; protector of women, children and other good things.”

“The .. Lone .. Danger? You are the lone idiot. Now take it off.”

“No.”

“Yes! ... why not? If it’s some dumb joke it fell flat. I don’t get it.”

“It’s what you tell me all the time; that I’m ‘a danger to myself and others.‘ I’m going to order a T-shirt I saw on my favorite TV show. It says, ‘WARNING: I do dangerous things!’”

“What show?”

“Punk’n Chunk’n.”

“Of course, what else would it be. I’d smack you right now, but you’d probably like it.”

“Yep! It’s attention and I crave that.”

“Idiot. I do love you ... now stop grinning like that and kiss me.”

“I knew you’d see my vision.”

“See your vision? Horse-Hockey! You’re cute and cuddly.”

“Cuddly? I am NOT ‘cuddly,’ I am a Stud! ... you can stop laughing now ... now?”

“C’mere, Stud, and kiss me before I lose it again. If that mask scratches my face I Will hit you ... with a ball bat!”

“It’s silk.”

“... I knew I was missing a pair of black ones. You rotten...,”

“...it’s amazing what you can make with them. Got’em from the laundry basket. Au natural, so to speak.”

“Come here! Now!”

“Yes dear, whatever you say, dear, I ..., mmmmm.”