SIX MONTHS LATER

Archer opened the door to his flat, shoving his shoulder against the edge to force it past the two inch maximum. Three minutes and one bruised finger later, he strolled down the short hallway, through the kitchen, and he went through to the living room and flopped on the couch. Archer slid off his jacket, loosened his tie, and undid his cuff links, rolling up his sleeves. He kicked off his shoes, the right, then the left - and they both whacked into the coffee table.

A second blond head peeked around the door frame leading into the kitchen, "Archer, is that you thudding around?"

"Yes, Annie, it's me!"

"Oh good! I was wondering if you could take me to the store, I need more pancake mix."

"Sure, just let me get the car keys."

"Ummm... Archer...?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we take the motorbike instead?"