The ticket

by jexmas on February 23, 2016

“Where’s the ticket?” you said.

“You’ve got it.” I pointed at your pants. “It’s in your back pocket.”

“You put the ticket in my back pocket?”

“Yes. When I was getting dressed, I had nowhere to put it because this dress doesn’t have pockets and my purse is so small, it wouldn’t fit, so I put it in the pocket of your pants, so we wouldn’t forget it.”

We were pulling up outside the theater where the opening night of the play was about to be transformed into the glittering, bustling, glamorous evening we had decided to throw ourselves into.

“You mean you put it in the pocket of the pants I’m not wearing.”

“No, I put it in the pocket of those pants. Check the pocket.”

“I checked the pocket. The ticket is not there.”

“It has to be there. That’s where I put it. Show me.”

You turned around, stuck your butt out towards me and said, “You check it.”

I reached my hand into the pocket and, sure enough, the ticket was not there.

“Now what do we do?” I asked out loud, almost to  myself. You turned back towards me and,

at this point, we stared at each other and I could not tell if you were joking.

“You are joking, right?”

There was a long silence. Slowly, you reached into the top of pocket of your jacket and pulled out the ticket.

“Here,” you said, holding it out to me.

“Oh, thank God,” I said.

“Yeah, well, don’t do that again without telling me. I’m not as predictable as you wish I was. I was going to change my pants at the last minute, but luckily changed my mind instead.”

“I knew it!” I said. “See? You had the ticket and it was right where I said it would be, wasn’t it?”

You didn’t answer.

“Wasn’t it?”

“Mmm,” you said, “Let’s go in.”

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