...t. Patting the creases out of her dress (having been extra busy tonight) she headed inside the tavern. Carl, Lenny and Homer were on the stools, quite obviously not in the clearest state of minds, as Moe cleaned a stein glass with a filthy rag. The grey-haired, born-with-unfortunate-facial-features bartender spotted Marge almost instant.
"Oh, hey, Midge," he welcomed her, a bit shifty-eyed.
"Hmm," Marge made that frustrated little noise in her throat. "Marge," she corrected him.
"Hey, look! Homer's wife's here!" Lenny held his beer up to her and Carl and Homer looked over to her with reddening eyes.
"Hey, I screwed you last night," Carl said, about as drunk as you could get before passing out.
"Shh!" Moe quipped to that last reveal. Thankfully, Homer didn't seem to register what Carl had said, so blinded by the beer.
"So", Marge spoke up, keen to change the subject before Homer could have some freak, delayed reaction; "Where's Barney?"
"Taking a leak," Moe replied, understanding it wasn't just Marge's curiosity that asked the question.
"Oh, okay," she answered conservatively, standing there for a few more seconds as the three drinkers slowly drew their eyes back on the drinks in their hands and off her.
"Go," Moe mouthed to her, and Marge promptly made her way past the fellas with their backs turned, into the Men's Room.
A minute later, soft bumps were heard coming from the toilets. Then slightly louder...