I am the wife of a Frank Sinatra man, rich and uncaring. He has a mistress and he's getting ready to go play golf with her. I am standing upstairs in our mansion looking out the large and spacious windows to see where he'll go because then I can go off and have my affair with this man. I decide to foul up his affair and go out and say, "Where are you going?" He has to lie and I feel pleased with myself. I point out that he leaves muddy tracks on the carpet. I then go to his young mistress and invite her to come with me to watch a boxing match. She agrees, not knowing what else to do and follows me. I go into an older house and start to walk upstairs. She is me now. She points out my own feet make smaller muddy tracks on the carpet. I show her two choices, a sharp metal pointy thing or a less dangerous one. I want us to see "real" boxing where men hurt each other for real and there is blood. She doesn't want to see that at this.