Honeymooners on flypaper

They made up their minds to stay home. Why leave Budapest, the brand new husband reasoned, when it’s such a spectacular city? There’s the theater, the movies, concerts. There’s so much to see. And so, they stayed, and their honeymoon was spent in love and contentment. Then around five-thirty one afternoon, they got stuck on the flypaper hanging from the ceiling lamp. What silly nonsense!


The husband: Do you love me, kitten?
The wife: What a question.
The husband: Well, then, come on.
The wife: Again?
The husband: Come-come-come-come-come.
The wife: Oh, you little devil!
The husband: Come on, munchkins!
The wife: In a moment. My heel. I think it’s stuck.
The husband: Well, kick off your shoes, bunny. Just don’t keep me waiting.
The wife: You want to stay in again tonight? They’re playing Tchaikovsky at the Academy.
The husband: To hell with Tchaikovsky.
The wife: We could see a show.
The husband: Never. I can’t abide Hungarian directors. They spoon-feed their audience. Do you feel this swaying back and forth?
The wife: What swaying?
The husband: I feel like I’m hanging from something and I’m swaying back and forth in the air.
The wife: Well, ignore it. Look up what’s playing at the Opera.
The husband: Where’s the paper?
The wife: On the kitchen table.
The husband: I can’t. My foot’s stuck.
The wife: I think it’s The Masked Ball.
The husband: Tell me something. The stuff that your shoe is stuck in. Is it a gooey, shiny substance?
The wife: Something like that.
The husband: Now my hands are stuck as well.
The wife: Will you stop? We’ll end up sitting at home again.
The husband: What’s this jerking motion?
The wife: I’m trying to pull free of this sticky mess.
The husband: Well, don’t. You’ll tear the strip.
The wife: How can you be so complacent? I fell in love with you because you were adventurous and you could always make me laugh, and you said how you loved music.
The husband: What good is music if I can’t move my limbs?
The wife: One would think you were the first one on earth to bet stuck. Think of the handicapped. Think of those with missing limbs! They go on with their lives, don’t they? They work, don’t they? Now and then they even have some fun!
The husband: Oh, God, now we’re turning round and round, I swear.
The wife: Will you stop complaining?
The husband: I can’t imagine what’s going on.
The wife: You can’t? Then I’ll tell you. There’s a draft from the stairwell and it’s making this gooey strip turn round. Well, are you satisfied?
The husband: Satisfied? Satisfied, when I’m stuck up to my belly in this gooey mess?
The wife: All you can think about is you, you, you! It’s ten to seven. Now we’ll have to take a cab if we’re to make it to the Opera on time.
The husband: Don’t facts ever influence you, dear?
The wife: I thought we said this marriage would be different. I thought we said we would never stop talking to each other. And we’d be inattentive. We wouldn’t bicker, and we wouldn’t get a divorce. I want to laugh and I want to have three children, and I want them to learn the piano. The husband: Oh, Lord, it’s up to my lips already.
The wife: Will you kindly call us a cab!