you buy me a drink, i'll buy you some music. rum collins. you like castro? i mean -- how do you feel about castro? you know, that big-shot down in cuba with the crazy beard. because as far as i'm concerned, he's a no good fink. two weeks ago i wrote him a letter -- never even answered me. all i wanted him to do was let mickey out for christmas. my husband. he's in havana -- in jail. mickey? he wouldn't do nothing like that. he's a jockey. they caught him doping a horse. 'twas the night before christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring -- nothing -- no action -- dullsville! you married? family? a night like this, it sort of spooks you to walk into an empty apartment. where do we go -- my place or yours? poor mickey -- when i think of him all by himself in that jail in havana -- -- want to see his picture? he's so cute -- five-foot-two -- ninety-nine pounds. like a little chihuahua. can i ask you a personal question? you got a girl-friend? still stuck on her, huh. i don't know you at all. i'm mrs. macdougall -- margie to you. say, this is snugsville. no kidding. gee. sort of gives you goose-bumps just to think about it. i'm with you, lover. i broke a nail trying to get the ice-tray out. you ought to buy yourself a new refrigerator. i didn't mean right now. hey -- over here, lover. what's all this running around? you're going to wear yourself out. not so rough, honey. good night? what's the matter? did i do something wrong? say, what's going on here, anyway? my shoes. some lover you are. some sexpot! you bet i will. and when i tell him how you treated me, he'll push your face in. you fink!