At that point Marilyn leaped away and stared at her hands. They were red and wet. “Carl! You’re bleeding!”“What? No, I’m not! I can’t be!�...� I shook my head. “That must be someone else’s.”“No, it’s not!”I looked down at my left side, where Marilyn’s hands had been. Big mistake! My left bicep and my entire left arm were red. “Oh, shit!” That third guy, the one with the knife, must have been better than I thought.I fished out my handkerchief and slapped it on my upper arm. It looked like I had a. Bob.Steve. Arnie. Martin."Oh, but I DO...!"-+-I had just finished putting on my makeup when I heard a noise. Iturned around...there was my wife!"Oh. Hi" was all she said."Honey, I can explain everything...," I began, but she had alreadyleft the room.For the rest of the day she didn't say anything about what she hadseen. Over dinner wouldn't talk about anything but the squabble thathad aborted her Saturday afternoon bridge game and brought her homeprematurely. And in the evening she. More

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