The census taker stood at the door, clipboard ready.
“Sir, are you married or happy?” he asked George.
George froze. His brain stalled like an old lawnmower.
“Uh… well, I’m married and I’m—”
From upstairs, Martha’s voice thundered: “Careful how you answer that!”
George panicked, stepped back, and tumbled down the stairs in slow motion.
Flat on the floor, he …
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