M*A*S*H1972

B.J.:
Okay, it's your turn. Tell me a fantasy.

Hawkeye:
Picture, if you will, a crisp winter afternoon. You by a crackling fire in a smoking jacket.

B.J.:
Mmm. What color?

Hawkeye:
Red... with blue satin lapels. And a zipper down the back.

B.J.:
What for?

Hawkeye:
You'll see. There's a light tapping at the door. "Who's there?" you say, checking your zipper. You saunter to the door, straightening your ascot... and casually slide back the bolt.

B.J.:
Come on! Who is it?

Hawkeye:
Lana Turner.

B.J.:
Wearing?

Hawkeye:
An angora sweater... with a zipper down the back.

B.J.:
What for?

Hawkeye:
You'll see.

B.J.:
Go on.

Hawkeye:
She throws her arms around you. But you push her away!

B.J.:
I push her away? For what?

Hawkeye:
Your smoking jacket is covered with angora lint. In a fit of pique, she leaves.

B.J.:
That's it? The end?

Hawkeye:
That's it.

B.J.:
But what about the zippers down the back?

Hawkeye:
They didn't catch on.

B.J.:
Oh, I don't believe it! I had Lana Turner in a fantasy with a sweater with a zipper down the back and I let her get away?

Hawkeye:
You always were short on zip.

B.J.:
[whines]