“What did you expect?” he whispered back.
I shrugged but, in truth, I was a bit puzzled. Until that moment, the fact that I was 29 and ridding high as a kite at the prospect of hearing Robert Munsch read The Paper Bag Princess hadn’t struck me as at all odd.
The lights dimmed and I waited. In truth, we had paid $33 so I could hear just a handful of words.
"Ronald, your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat. You look like a real prince, but you are a bum."
They didn't get married after all.
