Short Order

"I took my girlfriend to your last poetry reading," she said. "Yes, yes?" I asked. "She's young and pretty," she said. "And?" I asked. "She hated your guts." Then she stretched out on the couch and pulled off her boots. "I don't have very good legs," she said. "All right," I thought, "I don't have very good poetry; she doesn't have very good legs." Scramble two.