“Listen to that noise!” Megan cried, angrily tugging the comb through her freshly washed brown hair. “Don’t you hear it?” she demanded, glaring at her husband across the room.
“Of course I do,” he muttered absently, not looking up from his crossword puzzle.
“It’s almost midnight and she’s down there in her nightgown watching television with the volume full blast! We can’t sleep through that. She has to go, Tom! That damned Latina bitch has got to go!”
“So fire her ass,” Tom said, glancing up, slightly irritated by the interruption.
“Tom,” she whined.
