A man may wish he'd married his first love and not really mean it. But an insincere wish may turn ugly in dimensions unknown.
most decisions are hardly as momentous as the individual imagines," Professor Falabella continued, "and since the imagination of the average individual is very limited, many of these different planes--or, as they are colloquially known, space-time continuums--may exist in close, even tangential relationship."
Gloria rose unobtrusively and took the teapot to the kitchen for a refill. Her husband stood by the sink moodily drinking whiskey out of the bottle so as to avoid having to wash a glass afterward.
"Bill, you're not being polite to our guests. Why don't you go out and listen to Professor Falabella?"
"I can hear him perfectly well from here," Bill muttered--and indeed the professor's mellifluous tones pervaded every nook and cranny of the thin-walled house. "Long-winded cultist! What is he a professor of, I'd like to know."
"Professor Falabella is not a cultist!" affirmed Gloria angrily. "He's a great philosopher."
Bill Hughes said something unprintable. "If I'd married Lucy Allison," he continued unkindly, "she'd never have filled the house with long-haired cultists on my so-called day of rest."