Mr. Peavey didn't mind taking his wife to the mall. Sure her tryings-on of every article of female covering with a three-digit price were about as fun to watch as a filibuster, but Peavey knew a secret. On the other side of the mall there was always some hot entertainment going on: scantily clad females whirling through the kind of motions that never failed to intrigue males. Peavey made his usual excuse. He would inquire at the travel agency about all the wonderful places he could take his dear partner-for-life on their next anniversary. As soon as she vanished inside the changing booth Mr. Peavey fairly galloped to the show and watched entranced, face glowing like a little boy at Christmas who found not one but two bicycles under the tree. He daydreamed as his eyes followed the gyrating bodies and his mind whirled on the nuances of the tropical dance. He would have to suggest an island cruise to Mrs. Peavey, and this time he would gladly come along with her. Unfortunately Mr. Peavey did not notice his wife sneaking up behind him. He also did not notice the mall wastebasket crashing down on his head. The dancing girls noticed, but didn't allow it to break their concentration. They were used to this sort of thing.

Story #179