..the saintly life
....June 12, 2006
I am shopping for Relaxed Fit jeans. The man blocking my view of the denim shelves needs a roomier cut. He needs something in a Coma Fit. I think he should bite the bullet or, in his case, the howitzer shell, and drive his 4x4 to the big-and-tall clothing store located across town. But I can't tell him this and neither can our sales clerk, a pale, slouching, summer-employed lad wearing what appears to be an otter pelt on his head. The clerk and I are too kind.
On closer examination, I see that the pelt is actually hair, combed straight forward into the clerk's eyes. I mutter quiet thanks for my gift of restraint. Moments ago, I almost petted the young man's head.
I try hard not to listen to the conversation between Big and Tall Man and Pelt Boy, but my efforts are in vain. I hear B&T use the term "guesstimate" and I grind my teeth. If he uses "proactive" or "closure," I'll surely faint.
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© 2006 by the beastmaster