“That was a damn wedding gift from your damn brother,” shrieked Mildred.

I looked around at the shards of glittering crystal and recognized the pieces as being from Mildred’s flask. A fresh mark was inches above my head– sap began to leak from the tree’s wound.

“You drink too much!” Brutus grunted back. “You drink too much and you have the mouth of a sailor.”

“You have the face of a damn…sailor… that’s sea sick! Damn it.” Mildred cleverly retorted.

“You have the brains of a gin-soaked rag!” Brutus snapped back.

“Say it… don’t spray it!” Their faces were an inch apart. The sweat from Brutus’ face dripped onto Mildred’s collarbone. Mildred’s busted lip dribbled onto Brutus’s elbow. In the evening’s light, you could almost make out the vapors that slipped from their parted lips.

Suddenly my stomach had more knots than a crocheted coverall for a cruise ship. Mildred and Brutus were…. were…. kissing.