From The New Yorker, "if adults were subject to the same indignities as children."
PARTY
Zoe: Dad, I’m throwing a party tonight, so you’ll have to stay in your room. Don’t worry, though—one of my friends brought over his father for you to play with. His name is Comptroller Brooks and he’s roughly your age, so I’m sure you’ll have lots in common. I’ll come check on you in a couple of hours.
(Leaves.)
Comptroller Brooks: Hello.
Mr. Higgins: Hello.
Comptroller Brooks: So . . . um . . . do you follow city politics?
Mr. Higgins: Not really.
Comptroller Brooks: Oh.
(Long pause.)
(Zoe returns.)
Zoe: I forgot to tell you—I told my friends you two would perform for them after
dinner. I’ll come get you when it’s time. (Leaves.)
Comptroller Brooks: Oh, God, what are we going to do?
Mr. Higgins: I know a dance . . . but it’s pretty humiliating.
Comptroller Brooks: Just teach it to me.
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