A MODERN ROMANCE
by John T. Baker
It was a dark and stormy night
And Heathcliff felt so lonesome;
With Millicent not there to fight,
His grouchiness had grown some.

When Millie showed, two hours late,
Cliff let her have both barrels,
Which did, of course, precipitate
The mother of all quarrels.

Said he, "Don't bother with the tears,
And spare me that bravado;
Your mouth and brain have all these years
Been incommunicado!"

She wiped her eyes;  "It's no surprise
That all my friends now pity me!
You criticize and tell such lies,
It brings on my frigidity."

"Your friends can boo until they're blue,
A man's home is his castle;
I've news for you, sweetheart - we're through!
I'm sick of all this hassle."

"You're sick, all right," came Millie's shout,
And every day get sicker,
For all you ever care about
Is football, golf and liquor."

"That does it, Millie," Cliff retorted,
So mad that he could spit;
"Your tantrums I've too long supported,
The time has come to split."

Cooed Millie, "I for once agree;
Who needs all this dichotomy!"
"YOU need," cried he, "a nunnery -
Or else a full lobotomy."

"I'm off," she shrieked, "to Mexico!
Or posssibly Chicago -
If you'll just go to Texaco
And fill the Winnebago."

It was a dark and stormy night
When Cliff and Millie parted,
With each contrite and quite uptight . . .
But far from broken-hearted.