The woman with too much make-up rested her red lips on the rim of her glass, then she said to her new girl friend, "I loved him because he could laugh and quote poetry. He could figure out any problem that came his way. He liked people. He accepted things, like when he was drafted. He was very smart. MENSA Intelligent. So we tied the knot, and he left me swelled up like the Graf Hindenberg and did his tour in Viet Nam. A grunt in the bush. And he came home, with feet messed up by funguses and a scar on his arm. He was always trim, but now he was stringy. He had a chestful of medals. He slept like a log and ate like a hog and was better than ever in bed. But he didn't laugh anymore. He didn't go to church anymore. He had no patience with poor frail human beings, and he didn't believe in happy endings anymore. And he feared absolutely nothing. So I divorced him."