If Mel Brooks Was Mayor
“She slept with him?!” I yelled.
“Oh, you can’t say no to the mayor,” Eva replied matter-of-factly. “I said no to him once. He just gets so disappointed.”
“Make love to me!” the mayor cried from his knees, arms upraised.
“NO!” Eva’s reply was accompanied by the traditional slap to the face.
“Awww.” The mayor’s arms fell, and his bottom lip protruded substantially.
“So what if he gets disappointed?” I scoffed.
“Well, then he gets mean.”
“Oh, Marie, my dove,” the mayor said into the intercom, “push my one o’clock to two. And get the number of that girl who wouldn’t do me. I want to call her a doody-head.”
“For the last time, I’m not your secretary!”
“Doody-head?” I looked at her incredulously and shook my head. “Nevermind. Anyway, that’s harassment. You should call the police.”
“The Police? Are they back together?!” Her face lit up.
“What? No. Well, they had a reunion tour in 2008, but… Wait, no, I mean the real police. You know, officers of the law?” She just stared blankly.