[calling through the door]
Johanna. Are you all right in there, darling? It is I, Charlie... Your husband.
What is it?
Oh, moon of my delight. This is your own personalized Sheik of Araby who seeks admission into your tent. I have come to carry you off to the burning desert, and work my greasy will upon you under the tropical stars. Send your camel to bed, damn it!
My Sheik, does this mean you have excommunicated that mustache of the Prophet?
...I'll trim it... Darling. I am embarking on a very dangerous escapade, from which I may not well return. And it is customary in these situations for, you know, a proper send-off. Quick session of congress. Sink the Bismarck, if you will. And by the way, did I mention it is a matter of national security.
[forces his way in]