Mrs. Garvy was resting after dinner before the ordeal of turning on the dishwasher. The TV, of course, was on and it said: "Oooh!"--long, shuddery and ecstatic, the cue for the _Parfum Assault Criminale_ spot commercial. "Girls," said the announcer hoarsely, "do you want your man? It's easy to get him--easy as a trip to Venus." "Huh?" said Mrs. Garvy. "Wassamatter?" snorted her husband, starting out of a doze. "Ja hear that?" "Wha'?" "He said 'easy like a trip to Venus.'" "So?" "Well, I thought ya couldn't get to Venus. I thought they just had that one rocket thing that crashed on the Moon." "Aah, women don't keep up with the news," said Garvy righteously, subsiding again. "Oh," said his wife uncertainly. And the next day, on _Henry's Other Mistress_, there was a new character who had just breezed in: Buzz Rentshaw, Master Rocket Pilot of the Venus run. On _Henry's Other Mistress_, "the broadcast drama about you and your neighbors, _folksy_ people, _ordinary_ people, _real_ people"! Mrs. Garvy listened with amazement over a cooling cup of coffee as Buzz made hay of her hazy convictions. MONA: Darling, it's so good to see you again! BUZZ: You don't know how I've missed you on that dreary Venus run. SOUND: _Venetian blind run down, key turned in door lock._ MONA: Was it _very_ dull, dearest? BUZZ: Let's not talk about my humdrum job, darling. Let's talk about us. SOUND: _Creaking bed._ Well, the program was back to normal at last. That evening Mrs. Garvy tried to ask again whether her husband was sure about those rockets, but he was dozing right through _Take It and Stick It_, so she watched the screen and forgot the puzzle. She was still rocking with laughter at the gag line, "Would you buy it for a quarter?" when the commercial went on for the detergent powder she always faithfully loaded her dishwasher with on the first of every month. * * * * * The announcer displayed mountains of suds from a tiny piece of the stuff and coyly added: "Of course, Cleano don't lay around for you to pick up like the soap root on Venus, but it's pretty cheap and it's almost pretty near just as good. So for us plain folks who ain't lucky enough to live up there on Venus, Cleano is the real cleaning stuff!" Then the chorus went into their "Cleano-is-the-stuff" jingle, but Mrs. Garvy didn't hear it. She was a stubborn woman, but it occurred to her that she was very sick indeed. She didn't want to worry her husband. The next day she quietly made an appointment with her family freud. In the waiting room she picked up a fresh new copy of _Readers Pablum_ and put it down with a faint palpitation. The lead article, according to the table of contents on the cover, was titled "The Most Memorable Venusian I Ever Met." "The freud will see you now," said the nurse, and Mrs. Garvy tottered into his office.