God said: “You and your brother Aaron take the rod and assemble the community, and before their very eyes order the rock to yield its water… And Moses raised his hand and struck the rock twice with his rod…But God said to Moses and Aaron, “Because you did not trust Me enough to affirm My sanctity in the sight of the Israelite people, therefore you shall not lead this congregation into the land that I have given them.”

Chukat Numbers 19:1

Raymond Katz slammed the door behind him as he entered his home, burdened with four shopping bags.  He stumbled into the kitchen, hurled all the bags onto the granite counter, and then rushed back into the living room where he threw himself, exhausted, onto the couch.

“It’s a scorcher today. The heat sucks the life out of you.”

Melissa Katz came rushing in to greet her husband.

“That was so nice of you to go shopping for my party in this weather. I want my boss to be impressed tomorrow.” Melissa took over the kitchen and sorted the contents of the shopping bags into clumps: refrigerator, freezer, pantry. “What’s this?” She pulled out a bottle of pills and shook it so that her husband could hear it.

“Sounds like the antacid you asked me to get.” He reached into his pocket to pull out the empty bottle that Melissa had provided him with. “You wanted the fifty pill Prevacid, right?”

“What color is the bottle I gave you?”

“I dunno, kind of a fluorescent pink?”

“You bought the white bottle.”

“They had both. The white bottle was three dollars less than the pink bottle, and I checked to see that they were absolutely identical, so I got the white bottle.”

“It wasn’t what I asked for.”

“You asked for fifty pills of Prevacid; I got you fifty pills of Prevacid.”

Melissa came out of the kitchen to confront her husband on the couch. She stood above him, almost knee to knee, and held the bottle out at his eye level. “Show me your bottle. Are they the same?”

“Except for the color of the bottle they’re exactly the same.”

“It’s not what I asked for.”

“You wanted Prevacid, which is what I got, and it was three dollars cheaper.”

“I ASKED YOU TO GET ME THIS, AND YOU GOT ME THAT.”

“IT’S THE SAME EXACT PILL.”

“When I stumble out of bed, taking that pill is the first thing I do, and I want to just grab the pink bottle. I don’t want to have to read labels. I grab the pink bottle, I take the pill, and I have breakfast. DON’T MAKE ME HAVE TO THINK IN THE MORNING BEFORE I HAVE MY COFFEE.”

“Well then you should have told me you wanted the pink bottle.”

“You don’t understand. I gave you a pink bottle. I said “get me this.” What color is the bottle? It’s pink. That’s what you were supposed to get.”

“What I was supposed to get is Prevacid. If you wanted a pink bottle, you should have made that clear.”

“You’re missing the point. You saved what, three dollars by ignoring me? What is that three dollars worth to us? We’re two of the top orthopedic surgeons in the entire city. We live in Bel Air. Look out the window. That three dollars would not buy a quarter of a square inch of our lawn. Spend the three dollars, Raymond, and do what I ask you to do!”

“I see the problem here. This is how Aristotle tried to understand the essential nature of a thing. What is essential in the request? The drug itself or the entirety that incorporates not only the drug but the color of the bottle as well? I interpreted just the drug as the essential, and the other aspects as superficial.”

“Spare me the freshman philosophy midterm essay. You didn’t get me what I asked.”

“OK. Forget it. Give it to me. I have the receipt. I will drive back and return it and GLADLY pay the three dollars for the pretty pink bottle. I will drive through the hot sun, and I will stink up the entire supermarket and get you the pink bottle. Give it to me.”

“I’m keeping it. You’re missing the point.”

“Well, here’s the point. I just realized that you should have become a urologist instead of an orthopedist. Your skill at busting balls could have put you at the absolute top of your trade!”

Melissa tossed herself into an overstuffed chair that allowed her to talk to her husband, finally, from a comfortable position. “Maybe we’re just irritable because we’re hungry. Why don’t you shut up and get the grill going? Put the steak on. I’ll open some wine and let it air. Sheila is sleeping over at a friend’s house. Today was supposed to be a romantic supper not a philosophy discussion. And then next time you’ll know better.”

“You say ‘philosophy’ like that’s unromantic. How do you think I used to score as an undergrad? Back at UC Berkley, my greatest discovery was figuring out that the time lapse between saying the words “Jean Paul Sartre” and getting a girl’s panties off could be measured in milliseconds.”

“And what magic words did you use with me?”

Raymond leaned in and pursed his lips into a suggestive kiss. “Arthroscopic meniscectomy.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it drove me wild every time I heard you say that during our residency. What wine should I open up?”

“Get out a Napa Cabernet Sauvignon, and I’ll fire up the grill and get the steaks going.”

In Bel Air, the wine coolers can hold hundreds of bottles, and people have been known to fall into a state of hypnosis searching for the right wine. Melissa inspected bottle after bottle until she finally found a comfortingly labelled “Chimney Rock Cabernet Stags Leap District 2016.”  Raymond meanwhile turned on the gas and set down his two hand-selected steaks over the fire, testing each between his thumb and forefinger until his own was a perfect “rare”, and then kept Melissa’s on until it had the feel of the fleshy part under his thumb, just the medium rare that his wife preferred.

By the time Raymond returned to the dinner table, Melissa had already opened the wine and poured each of them a glass, the better to allow the wine to air out and mellow.  They clinked and both took a sip.

“How did you find this one? It’s delicious. It will be perfect with the steak.”

“It wasn’t easy. I had to go searching blindly until I found something that was a Napa Cabernet. Now what would you say the flavor notes are?  I’m picking up blackberry and anise.”

“I’m getting the blackberry and cassis. Definitely aged a while in oak.” He picked up the bottle and turned to the back label. “Let’s see what the winemakers say… Blackberry, black current … ooooh, and look at this. Now I’m just making a point here. What kind of wine did I ask for?”

“It’s a Cabernet. That’s what it says on the label.”

“True, but this is in fact a blend. It is in fact only seventy-five percent Cabernet Sauvignon, with a full twenty-three percent Merlot. Should I be upset that you didn’t get a true Cabernet?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Look at the back of the bottle.”

“Look at the front of the bottle. It is clearly a Cabernet.”

“But Prevacid in a white bottle isn’t Prevacid?”

“You can go jerk yourself off tonight.”

“I’m just making a point! I said the wine was delicious! It goes perfectly with the steak! You made a great choice. You just didn’t get a Cabernet as I asked. Suppose it was seventy-five percent Cabernet and twenty-three percent strychnine?”

“Then it wouldn’t say ‘Cabernet’ on the label. It would say ‘Dangerous poison. Do not serve to anyone under any circumstances unless it’s your husband and he’s acting like an asshole.’”

“Hey – why don’t we take the pills out of the white bottle, and just put them into the pink bottle? Win-win!”

“I’ve already thrown the pink bottle out. You still don’t get it. Just promise me that when I ask for something, you listen to me.”

“I promise. I thought I was listening to you, but I’ll listen more carefully next time.”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask. By the way, the steak is perfect.”

“Then we’re still friends?” He leaned in and put his lips right onto her ear. “Arthroscopic meniscectomy.”

“Nice try, but it will take more than that to turn me on.”

“Ulnar collateral ligament reconstruction?”

“I’m listening but I think you can still do better.

“I’m sorry I got the wrong pill bottle.”

“Ah, now I can practically feel myself getting wet.”

The invitation for Dr. Fitzpatrick’s celebration on Sunday was for 2 pm, and Melissa cursed and griped to Raymond when the intercom at the gate rang at 1:40. Melissa was organizing the outdoor tables, tugging the tablecloths back and forth to center them. Raymond was tending to the ribs on the smoker. Neither had the bandwidth to be distracted in the duty of welcoming guests and chatting with them. “Can’t anyone read the goddamn invitation? Do they not know it’s rude to show up twenty minutes early?” She wasn’t sure whether to turn her anger up or down when the monitor revealed that the early guest was her boss and guest of honor Dr. Brian Fitzpatrick himself, along with his husband Thomas. Thomas was a good fifteen years junior to Brian. He’d previously worked as Fitzpatrick’s physician’s assistant, but then retired and became what Melissa called “a homebound drone” a year after the pair married.  “Ray, can you entertain them while I finish setting up?”

“Melissa, the ribs are at a key stage. If I get into a long polite conversation they could overcook.”

“Oh, thank you very much for nothing.”

Melissa greeted her boss and his partner as they stepped out of their Lexus. Funny that the man whose job she wanted had a less upscale car than the pair of Benzes that Melissa and her husband drove, but she remembered that she and Raymond had two incomes while Fitzpatrick had only one. She apologized for not giving them her full attention and invited them to follow around to chat with her as she finished setting up.

“I see you’ve got Raymond chained to the barbeque!”, Brian shouted as he walked over to greet him. “Ray, I made this offer to you five years ago, and I’m not giving up. Quit your job at that hospital, come work for us at GLAOC; and you can make twenty percent more money and have twenty percent less stress.”

“Melissa and I agreed that working together under the same roof would not be good for the marriage.”

“Nonsense. Working together brings out new levels of trust and intimacy.”

Melissa overheard this and chuckled. “Why then isn’t Thomas still working with you?” she wondered.  She looked over to Thomas who was also listening in. Behind Brian’s back, Thomas flailed his arms, shook his head at Melissa, opened his eyes wide, and mouthed the word “NO NO NO!” repeatedly, until Melissa smiled back in acknowledgement.

Melissa put the final touches on the patio presentation at 2 pm sharp, despite being shadowed and chatted up by her boss. It was the moment that the next guest arrived. Melissa put on her party hostess persona, hugging and smiling and saying “so glad you came” as each of her colleagues arrived. Raymond felt like a human pinball. He’d flip himself out from the smoker, bouncing off of a few guests to greet them, until gravity pulled him back to the smoker to check up on the ribs, only to be flipped again to his duties as Melissa’s husband/nice guy/greeter. A hush fell over the entire group when full-bearded, barrel-chested Niall Donnelly pulled up with his wife Fiona. Niall stepped past Melissa, just giving her a brief nod, and then gave Dr. Fitzpatrick a muscular two-handed shake that nearly threw the doctor off balance. “Happy twenty-five, brother, and may there be many more!” Melissa gave an urgent beckoning wave to her husband and then introduced Raymond to Niall who, she explained, was the business and money “back-room guy” behind the entire Greater Los Angeles Orthopedic Center, although he was not a doctor. Raymond noticed that everyone was in awe of Brian, except when Niall was nearby and he played a role of big brother/tyrant to Brian, who always deferred to him.

“You’re the famous Raymond Katz that Brian tells me about,” Niall exclaimed as he popped Raymond’s right hand up and down like a salt shaker.  “Brian is the medical genius, but I’ve got the power of persuasion, which is why he works for me and not the other way around. If he had my gifts, you’d be working at GLAOC today. The clock’s a tickin’ Raymond. We expect to close the deal with the private equity firm by October, and then all the shareholders are going to have more money than they can count.” Raymond tried to explain his reasons, but he was cut off by Niall “I know, I know. Don’t shit where you eat. It’s a good rule. I don’t blame you.”

At two thirty, Melissa felt a buzz on her phone and checked her messages. Her eyes widened in mixed delight and panic, and she ran over to her husband. “Ray, my gift for Dr. Fitzpatrick arrived at the liquor store! I didn’t think it was going to be here in time. Would you be a sweetie and drive down to pick it up? Danny is holding it for me.”

“But we are approaching the exact moment of perfection on the ribs! Give me just a few minutes and then I’ll wrap them in foil and let them rest, and after that I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Just don’t forget. This is a very special bottle of whiskey. It’s something Dr. Fitzpatrick said he hasn’t been able to find for ten years, and I busted my butt finding a bottle.”

But as more guests arrived, and Ray fulfilled his duties of acting charming to Melissa’s colleagues, the tidal wave of energy that any good party generates swept him away. Soon everyone was eating and drinking. Ray was carving his ribs, selecting the right size and doneness for the right person, and even serving as a sort of sommelier of barbecue sauce. “Would you like something a little sweet, not too smokey? How much heat? More vinegar-ey or more tomato-ey?”

Finally, Melissa stood up before the crowd to address them, and beckoned Dr. Fitzpatrick to stand beside her.

“As you know, this week Dr. Fitzpatrick completed his twenty-fifth year at GLAOC.  He brought me in eighteen years ago, and I never looked back. There is no kinder man to work with. There is surely no one more knowledgeable about orthopedic medicine probably in all of Southern California.”

Fitzpatrick stepped forward “Or Northern California! I visit them every now and then when there is a colloquium. Half the practitioners in NoCal went into orthopedics because they couldn’t cut it as carpenters.”

Melissa continued “And there is no one more modest either. Let’s all give three cheers for our head of surgery, Doctor Brian Fitzpatrick!”

Then as everyone applauded, Melissa let out an involuntary “Oh shit!”

Brian put his arm around Melissa. “Are you okay?”

She turned to her husband. “Ray, you never went to the liquor store, did you? Dr. Fitzpatrick, remember that special bottle of Irish whiskey you raved about? I found it and I got it for you as a present, but it only arrived this afternoon, and we haven’t been able to get away. I wanted to present it to you now.”

“No worries! Just bring it into the clinic on Monday. More for me, everybody! I would have shared it with you all, but circumstances appear to have intervened!”

Ray shouted out “It’s my fault! I got too involved with the food.” The crowd first laughed, and someone said “You made the right decision!” Then Niall Donnelly pushed himself to the front and declared “Did you say Irish whiskey? Shame on you, Raymond. We’re all thirsty!”

He started up a chant “WE’RE ALL THIRSTY! WE’RE ALL THIRSTY!” which was soon taken up by the entire group except for Brian.

Melissa gave Raymond unbroken dirty glances until he stepped forward. “OK, you rebels! I am going to go in my car right now and pick up that bottle of Irish whiskey because I would not want any of you to have less than a perfect experience today. And I know for sure that Melissa wouldn’t either.”

As everyone applauded, Melissa stepped up, kissed her husband on the cheek, and reminded him. “It’s at Brentwood Wines and Spirits. Ask for Danny. He is holding a very special bottle of Irish whiskey under my name. Easy Peasy. Just don’t faint at the price tag. Remember, this is for my boss, and when he retires, I want him to recommend me to replace him. You got that?”

“Brentwood. Danny. Irish whiskey. Close my eyes and pay whatever it costs. I’ll be back in less than an hour.”

“Hurry. They’re all thirsty.”

The parking lot at the liquor store was nearly full. Raymond finally found a spot between two SUVs and negotiated his Mercedes between them with barely enough room to open his door part way and shimmy himself out. Once inside the booze emporium, he bolted through the aisles looking for someone in the store’s black and gold uniform who might have a “Danny” nametag on. At a loss, he came back to the front desk where he found “Arthur – Store Manager” shuffling through papers. “I’m looking for Danny. He’s holding a bottle of Irish Whiskey for my wife, Melissa Katz.”

Arthur was a puffy cheeked man, about fifty, with a brush moustache whose unclipped hairs rolled into and between his lips. “Danny left an hour ago. But I’m positive he couldn’t have been holding back anything for your wife.”

“He was definitely holding back a bottle of very fancy Irish whiskey. Hundreds of dollars. I saw the text with my own eyes on my wife’s phone.”

“Sir, he couldn’t have done that because he knows it’s strictly against store policy. He could be terminated for doing that. Are you sure that’s what he said?”

“Well, maybe there’s just a bottle back there and he isn’t actually holding it. Can you check?”

“Possibly he’s referring to our allocated stock. That’s our very exclusive limited selection.” Arthur disappeared and soon came out holding a bottle between his hands in the manner a waiter at a fine restaurant might show off a special bottle of wine. “This must be it. The only allocated Irish whiskey we have. You’re lucky, this is the only bottle. It’s eight hundred dollars. Is this what you’re looking for?”

Raymond closed his eyes and tried to wipe away any thoughts of bringing home a more reasonably priced Irish whiskey. “Well, the marriage is worth more than eight hundred dollars” he rationalized, and asked Arthur to ring it up. He let Arthur enter his phone number and then held out his credit card, waiting to tap it.

“I’m sorry I can’t sell this to you. This is an allocated item and we can only sell it to our Premier Cru members.  You’re a Grand Cru member. That’s our second tier.”

“What does it take to get on the Premier Cru crew?” Raymond hoped that Arthur would laugh at the pun. He didn’t.

“Well, you can either pay five hundred dollars, or you need to have bought five thousand dollars of goods from us in the past twelve months.”

“I have to pay five hundred dollars for the privilege of buying an eight-hundred-dollar bottle of Irish whiskey? Okay, okay. Just ring me up.”

“I have good news, Mister Katz. Our computer says that you’re only seven hundred and fifty dollars from reaching Grand Cru level. So instead of paying five hundred, you just need to buy another seven hundred fifty dollars of goods and you’re all set.”

“Perfect! The whiskey is eight hundred and that puts me over!”

“Not exactly. You need to first spend the seven fifty before you qualify for me to sell you this.”

“But you could sell it to me now, and then as far as anyone would know, I’d be Premier Cru, right?”

“I could be terminated for doing that.”

“There are so many ways in this place to get terminated, I’m amazed that anybody is left. Okay. I need to get back to the party before they kill me. I will buy a seven-hundred-and-fifty-dollar bottle of wine so that I may be permitted to buy an eight-hundred-dollar bottle of Irish whiskey. What do you have that fits the bill?”

“Well what kind of wine do you like?”

“Give me a Napa Valley Cabernet. But make it a true Cabernet. One hundred percent unadulterated Cabernet Sauvignon.”

“Excellent. I have two bottles that meet your requirements. There’s a 2010 Oakville Estates Premier Reserve for eight-hundred-twenty-five.  Aged in French oak for…”

“I don’t care. Bring it out and ring it up.”

“If you want my opinion, sir, I think that is more of a three-hundred-dollar bottle than an eight-hundred-dollar bottle. As long as you’re spending that sort of money, I’d go with the 2020 Screaming Eagle. Notes of wildflowers and loganberry, perfectly balanced oak, and a tannin structure that could have been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. It’s twenty-five-hundred, but worth every penny.”

“You drink much of that stuff?”

“It’s what my customers tell me.”

“Just wrap it up. Three-thousand-three-hundred dollars for two bottles of booze. Between you and me, I’m doing my wife a big favor. I better get laid tonight.”

“Well, you’ll want to hold the Screaming Eagle for another eight years at least.”

“I don’t think I can wait that long. But don’t worry. After I pay for this, I’ll be doing my own screaming.”

“Good news sir! As a Grand Cru member, you’re entitled to twenty percent off the wine. So, it comes out to only two-thousand plus tax!”

“Thank you, and make sure Danny gets a raise out of the three thousand dollars I just spent.”

By the time Raymond returned to the party, Melissa had armed the entire guest list with glasses for the whiskey. She reserved their special Glencairn whiskey glasses for Brian, Thomas, Niall, and Fiona, and had scrounged up a variety of tumblers and water glasses for herself, Raymond, and the other guests.

As soon as Niall saw Raymond coming through, he declared “Drinks for everyone!”, as Brian gave him a concerned look.

Raymond uncorked the bottle, but sidled up to Brian to be sure. “Brian, this is a really, really special hard-to-get priceless bottle. Are you sure you want to share it with EVERYBODY?” Brian gave it deep thought until he saw Niall staring back at him and nodding.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Fitzpatrick announced, “Let me tell you the story of this bottle of whiskey. Thomas and I were travelling throughout Ireland ten years ago, and we visited various distilleries. I sampled this whiskey and it made me so emotional that I proposed to Thomas right there on the spot. I only bought one bottle to bring home, and I’ve been unable to find it in the ten years since. Melissa, being not only a great doctor but also a great detective, has managed to find a bottle of this to celebrate my twenty-five years with GLAOC. Raymond, why don’t you pour the four of us up here with a wee dram, and then – DRINKS FOR EVERYONE!”

To much applause, Raymond poured into the four Glencairn glasses until he was interrupted by Niall.  “I don’t think that Fiona and I have had the good stuff, I mean the really good stuff, since we moved here from Dublin. Thank you, Melissa, thank you Raymond.” He saw a disturbed look from Dr. Fitzpatrick and added “And thank you Brian for sharing. SLÁINTE!”

They gave the glasses a swirl, savored the aroma, gave each other approving looks, and then sipped at their bounty.  Niall waved Raymond in. “Let’s see the bottle.” It took Niall barely a second before his brows became contorted.

“Distilled in County Antrim?! That’s Northern Ireland. This is Protestant whiskey! You’re serving us Protestant whiskey, Brian?”

Brian had nothing to say, so Niall continued. “Where the hell were you vacationing, Brian, in Belfast?”

“No, um, we went to Northern Ireland too but we were mostly in the Republic of Ireland. I think we had the tasting in Cork. I proposed to you in Cork, isn’t that right, Thomas?”

“Oh, absolutely. It was Cork.”

“This whiskey is definitely not from Cork!” Niall insisted.

“I’m positive Brian proposed to me in Cork.”

Brian turned with a sad puppy look. “Mr. Donnelly, Melissa sent her husband to pick up the whiskey, and he must have made some sort of mistake.”

Niall gave the theory careful consideration. He leaned in privately to Brian. “Fine. But if he did this, couldn’t he give a patient the wrong medication as well? Let him stay at that crappy hospital where he is now.”

Brian addressed the crowd. “I’m so sorry everyone. This is not what I thought it was. It’s not good enough for Niall, and it’s definitely not good enough for you.” Brian was relieved when he saw that the guests, to his surprise, also seemed relieved, as though they had been spared something indescribably awful.

Melissa pulled her husband aside. “What did you do? Did you have Danny give you this?”

“Danny wasn’t there. He left an hour before! I had to deal with the manager.”

“You embarrassed me in front of my boss!  Raymond, he’s going to be leaving in a few years and I want his job!”

“I know! I did everything I could.”

“Obviously you didn’t. You didn’t find Danny. You didn’t have the manager find the bottle that Danny held for me.”

“I did ask the manager! There was no bottle held for you. In fact, you almost got Danny fired!”

“You don’t listen! Why didn’t you at least call me?”

“There was no need to distract you from the party. There was only one bottle of expensive Irish whiskey in the whole store and that’s the one I got.  Eight hundred dollars, right?”

“Yes, Eight hundred dollars.”

“And another two thousand just for the PRIVILEGE of being able to buy it!”

“WHAT???!!”

“Oh, there’s more to this than you can imagine. I did absolutely everything possible to get you this bottle of whiskey.”

“Everything except get the right freakin’ bottle!”

“THERE WAS ONLY ONE BOTTLE!”

When the afternoon wore itself out and the guests were leaving, Melissa was moderately relieved when Brian seemed very conciliatory. She apologized with great sincerity, and tried to avoid putting the blame on her husband. Fortunately, Brian took care of that.

“Don’t worry Melissa, I’m sure this will be a wonderful bottle of whiskey, and Thomas and I will enjoy it together over many nights. Raymond, I’m sorry for the confusion. I’m sure that the liquor store got their bottles mixed up or something.”

Melissa couldn’t help herself. “He’s a good man. He just doesn’t listen to me.”

Thomas added “That’s what husbands are for, right? To not listen to you.”

They all laughed and then Brian added “Except this guy…” pointing to Thomas. “If I had a dollar every time this guy got me out of a jam… I could buy another one of these,” he said pointing to the bottle.

By the time the sun came down, Melissa realized that something had been bothering her. She found her husband in the living room. “Sweetie, what was the whiskey you ended up getting?”

“It was Bushmills. Rare Cask, 29 year.”

“Oh my God. That is what Brian wanted. Are you sure that’s what you picked up?”

“What do you think I am, an encyclopedia of Irish whiskey? I don’t know what other brands there are. Are you saying that Brian asked for Bushmills and I got him Bushmills, but then he said he never wanted Bushmills? Why would that be?”

“I have a very strong theory…”

Brian and Thomas were relaxing on the sofa, watching a Lakers game, as Brian poured the two of them a shot of their eight-hundred-dollar Bushmills. “Brian, don’t you think you should at least text Melissa and tell her that she got you the right whiskey after all?”

“Thanks for bailing me out. I thought that Niall was about to bomb my car. I proposed in Belfast, right?”

“Of course it was in Belfast. The distillery was in Antrim, then we actually drove back to the hotel and you proposed over dinner and whiskey.”

“Ah, she’s angling for my job when I retire, and I plan to make her a shoo-in anyway. Let’s not break the mood. I’ll let her stew over it tonight and then apologize Monday at the clinic. In a way, it all worked out for the best. We didn’t have to share.”

“Slainté”

“To hell with appearances. Cheers.”

Raymond was pacing across his living room. “Your boss made me look like an idiot to cover his ass?”

“And I didn’t trust you, sweetie. Can you forgive me?”

“You know, they wouldn’t even sell me the whiskey. I had to buy a two-thousand-dollar Screaming Eagle before they’d even let me buy your ungrateful boss his damned Protestant whiskey, and to keep your friend Danny from getting fired.”

“Then let’s open the Screaming Eagle!”

“They said we have to hold it for eight years.”

“When it comes to you and me, babe, some things can’t wait. We can always buy another.”

Another tale of marital communication

More on the biblical portion Chukat