Tony Bennett is coming from the audio speakers and there are lit candles and wine and cheese and crackers and fruit and even a smokeless ashtray.  
 
  
"How are you?" I say then pushing my lips onto hers.  "Good to see you again." 

This is our second date.

I met her on the internet. 
 
"Good to see you," she says.  Yellow light is coming from the lit candles and The Good Life by Tony Bennett is coming from the audio speakers and she is wearing a low neck cocktail dress with heels and I am in a situation a man should be comfortable in but I'm uncomfortable and wishing I wasn't.

"Was this your garage?" I say.  
Most of the garage door 
interior has been covered over 
with fiberglass insulation and 
then dry walled.

"My ex-husband was gonna 
turn it into a chicken coop." 

"I see," I say, hoping I never 
meet her ex-husband.

"He planned on harvesting the chicken eggs and then including a couple of them with a homemade incubator.  There's a copy of the advertisement on the wall," she says, pointing. 

"See the miracle of birth?" I say.

"Yep," she says then pouring additional wine into my glass.

"The miracle of birth," I say (like we're toasting) as I raise the glass to my lips.

"See it for only $19.95," she says, smiling.

"So it was a business?" I say then biting into a cracker.

"He planned on shipping the incubator and eggs all over the world using ads in magazines and newspapers."

"People want to watch chickens coming out of eggs?"

"He thought so."

"What was the incubator like?" I say then biting into a piece of fruit.

"It consisted of a half pound bag of manure."

"What was a half pound bag of manure?"

"The incubator," she says.

"The incubator was a half pound bag of manure?"

"Manure generates heat as it breaks down.  He calculated that the heat emission would be enough to hatch an egg but not even one hatched."

After a pause I say:

"Your ex-husband was going to ship people a bag of shit and two chicken eggs?"

"Yep."

After a pause I say: 

"Have you been following this Howard Dean thing?"

"Who?" she says, smiling.

"The Democratic presidential contender," I say.

"Oh, him," she says.  "I heard some things."

"Did you know he's a doctor?" I say.  "An M.D."

"He's the one that went nuts-right?"

"I guess," I say. 

"That's an actual Ronco smokeless ashtray," she says, pointing then smiling.