You Take Him

It was a Sunday night just before the start of the 7:30 meeting, a podium discussion meeting, which I attended on a regular basis. I was standing outside when a car pulled up and a woman got out who appeared to be in her middle thirties, nicely dressed and with a stern look. She went over to the passenger's side and opened the car door. She reached inside, grabbed a wet drunk, and pulled him out. He could hardly walk. All she said was, "I don't want him anymore. You take him."