Victor clenched his hands into fists as he watched the spectacle before him. Seriously? Marty and Morris, who less than an hour ago were at each other’s throats, are now all lovey-dovey and have decided to get married? Oh, hell no! It should be he and Violet getting married, not these two old geezers!
“Marty, you have to be joking,” he said. “You are seventy-three years old, and...”
Marty gasped. “Victor Romanoff, you did not just reveal my age! How could you do such a thing?”
“Martina, take it easy,” Morris soothingly said. “I know you’re not eighteen anymore. We’re practically the same age, remember? I was a senior in high school when you were a sophomore.”
Marty bristled. “I was a freshman!” she huffed.
“Even better,”Morris said, winking at Violet. “Hear that? I’m getting a spring chick.”
“The point is,” Victor interjected. “It’s ridiculous for you to even think about getting married at your age.”