My wife and I were looking at paintings in a gallery. One was of a beautiful nude woman with only a little foliage covering her private areas.
"Bad taste," muttered my wife, and moved on. Not me. I lingered, transfixed, until I heard her shout, "What are you waiting for - autumn?"
"Bad taste," muttered my wife, and moved on. Not me. I lingered, transfixed, until I heard her shout, "What are you waiting for - autumn?"
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