(twenty minutes late, mind you, which he had been forced to spend
watching that god-awful show The Wheel of Fortune, his only
consolation being the sleek curves of the show's co-host, even
though she probably was a dim-witted airhead who ate tofu salads
for lunch and spent half of her time lying around in a tanning
salon reading The National Enquirer or something) Mary Beth had
smiled pleasantly, switched off the Zenith, and plopped a half a
roast hen down in front of him.